Chapter 20
“Devon?”
He jerked and sat up. Addison was several steps away from the side of the bed. “Shit. Did I swing at you?”
She shook her head. “No.”
“Then why are you over there?”
“Uh…I’ve always done it. Ever since I was a little girl.”
He inhaled sharply, remembering some of the things Braedon had confided in him. “Your dad used to drink.”
“Yeah.”
“He was violent?” Braedon had never shared that.
“Not on purpose, but he was a belligerent drunk and could be combative. We learned to duck if we had to wake him up.”
He swung his legs over the side of the bed. “Damn, Addy. I’m sorry.”
She shook her head. “Not your fault.”
“Maybe not.” He held out his hand, breathing a sigh of relief when she stepped between his legs with no hesitation. “Still sucks you had to learn that lesson.”
Rubbing his shoulders, she asked, “Why did you ask if you woke up swinging?”
“I’ve done it once or twice. Usually when I’ve had a nightmare.”
“Did you have any last night?”
“No.” He shook his head. “I don’t think I dreamed at all, actually.”
Most nights, he woke up once or twice from his dreams, but now that he thought about it, he didn’t recall waking up at all the last few nights.
“What time is it?” he asked.
“Three,” she said.
“Shit. I meant to be up half an hour ago.” He pushed her back to stand. “I need to prep the bags. Check the gear.”
“It’s done.”
“You already packed?”
“Yes. You should probably double-check to make sure I didn’t miss anything, though.”
The vests were ready to go, backpacks stacked on top, and weapons on the table. “What time did you get up? Why didn’t you wake me up?”
Addison shrugged. “I couldn’t sleep. I was too keyed up so I did some yoga and prepped everything.”
“You should have woken me up.” He unzipped one of the bags, saw her clothes, and closed it back up.
“There wasn’t that much to do, and it kept me busy.”
“Thanks.” He grabbed a pair of black cargo pants and a long-sleeved shirt from the bag, dressing quickly. After lacing his boots up, he checked the weapons and magazines. She had everything ready to go.
Sitting on one end of the couch, he watched her pace back and forth. She was dressed in exactly the same clothes—black cargo pants, long-sleeved shirt, boots. She’d braided her hair and her face was devoid of makeup.
