“Do you want to talk about it?”
I glance up at her again, my chest aching. “Not really…I just…I’m tired.” Dead tired.
Chloe’s lips part. “Oh, sure. Of course.” She stands hurriedly, wadding up the blanket she’d been using and draping it over the coffee table. “I’ll just?—”
“Would you stay with me?” The words escape from my lungs like a breath.
Chloe stills.
“Just…for a while,” I clarify. “I don’t want to be alone.”
I know how it sounds. Pitiful. Weak. Like a kid afraid of the dark. Like that dragon, hiding in his cave. But I’m too tired to care.
Chloe’s gaze softens, her lips parting in surprise before, “Of course.”
I nod. “Okay. Don’t…don’t go anywhere.” I toss my jacket on the nearest chair, grab my overnight bag, and head to the bathroom to change.
When I come back out, she’s made room for me in the corner seat, just like last night. But this time, the TV is off, the glowing embers the only light in the room. I slide into the space beside her, and Chloe nestles in, resting her head on my shoulder. I breathe in the scent of her, relaxing one muscle at a time.
“Brody?” Her voice is soft in the darkness.
“Yeah?”
“What did you want to talk about earlier?”
Everything. Nothing.I love you. I’m terrified. I don’t know what I’m doing.
“Tomorrow,” I say instead. “Let’s talk tomorrow. After the wedding.”
“Okay. Tomorrow.”
Silence again. The fire crackles softly, a log settles and sends up a shower of sparks. Somewhere outside, an owl hoots. And for the first time in what feels like months, sleep washes over me.
CHLOE
I wake up to the sound of steady breathing that isn’t mine.
For a moment, I’m disoriented—why is there breathing? Why is my pillow so warm and solid and…why does it have a heartbeat?
My eyes crack open, and my heart leaps at the realization.
We fell asleep on the couch. Brody’s arm wrapped around me, pulling me close. My head, which started out on his shoulder, somehow migrated to his warm—very solid—chest. And while I’m not complaining, it definitely wasn’t how I expected to be waking up this morning.
Brody stirs, his thumb stroking my arm.
Oh, this is…this is bad.
I might never get up. I’ll miss the whole wedding, and it might just be worth it.
I close my eyes again, weighing today’s responsibilities against how much I really, really,reallywant to stay here. He’s so warm. And he smells good—that woodsy cologne I’ve grown familiar with.
And what’s worse—I lift my head just slightly to look at him—yeah, what’s way worse is that he’s beautiful.
I know that sounds dramatic. Men aren’t supposed to be beautiful. They’re handsome or attractive or hot. But Brody asleep, with his face relaxed and his guard completely down, is beautiful. The morning light filtering through the curtains catches his features—the line of his jaw, the dark stubble, the way his eyelashes rest against his cheeks. I want to reach up and touch them.
He looks peaceful. Younger. Like the weight he carries when he’s awake has lifted.
But…I have a wedding to run, and I’d never hear the end of it if I was late.
