I peek into his closet and find a hoodie shoved in a cubby. It smells like him.
Perfect.
I take my treasures and return to the living room, staring at the pile of fabric in front of me.
I have no clue what I’m doing. I wish I did. I’m sure my attempt at a nest is going to absolutely suck.
I take a steadying breath as I grip the sheet in my hands.
Who’s going to judge me? Rowan, I guess, but he hasn’t judged me before, so I hope he doesn’t start to now.
I take the sheet and hook it over the back of the couch, pulling it until it’s hooked around the dining chair, creating a low canopy over the couch and a small portion of the floor beside it.
Rowan doesn’t stir as I move about, crawling under the cover into the enclosed space that automatically feels better. It’s like jumping underwater and having all the sound just fade away.
I busy myself with curling the blanket around me so I still have some under me as a sort of cushion. It’s not nearly as comfortable as Rowan’s bed, but considering I could sleep on the cold, concrete floor of the barn, I think I’ll be able to sleep just fine.
When I finally find a position that satisfies the instinctual part of my brain, I let out a sigh of relief.
Rowan’s slow and steady breaths, seeming to bounce off the walls of the fabric cave around us, soothe my nerves.
I think I did a pretty good job, considering this is the first time I’ve made a nest.
I’ll just let myself close my eyes for a little. I can totally wake up to check on Rowan later.
I’m pulled from a deep,dreamless sleep by an annoying buzzing. The sound presses against my brain, floating around my mind like a bug I can’t get rid of.
I jerk awake, my eyes flying open with a startled gasp.
Oh no! I was supposed to check up on Rowan! What time even is it?
I push myself up from the blanket I have curled around me in the makeshift nest to see Rowan stirring from the buzzing.
Well, at least he’s still alive. Thank goodness something didn’t happen when I was sleeping irresponsibly.
He digs into his pocket, pulling out his phone with his eyes still closed like he’s pawing about, trying to find his alarm clock.
With a groan, he peels open his eyes—well, technically his one good eye, the other one is still swollen shut. It’s an even angrier purple than yesterday. I guess things just take time to heal.
“Whoa, what’s this?” he says, his voice gravelly from sleep as he stares up at the low canopy made of his bedsheet hanging above us.
“Oh, I, uh, I made it,” I mumble, my hands coming to fist in the fabric of his blanket as I avert my gaze. “I was—I was going to take it down before you woke up, but I—I fell asleep. I’m so sorry.”
“You slept on the floor?”
My head jerks with a nod.
“You didn’t have to do that, Sugar,” he says, propping himself up on his side with a slight wince so he can get a better look at me. “I would’ve preferred if you slept on the bed. You would’ve been more comfortable that way.”
“I slept really well, actually! Maybe too well,” I wince. “I was supposed to check up on you and make sure you were alright and—and I didn’t. I’m sorry.”
My head hangs as I brace myself for some sort of punishment. I had one job. And I failed. To top that off, I’ve made a mess of his living room and bedroom.
“Hey, wipe that look off your face right now,” he says sternly.
My eyes widen as I glance up at him.
“Whatever you’re thinking, stop. You needed rest too, okay? And I’m fine.”
