Fresh face without any makeup. Tired eyes. Apologetic smile.
“Hi,” I say gently. “Can’t sleep?”
She shakes her head to tell me no. “How about you?”
“Same.”
She opens the door a bit wider, revealing the matching pajama set she’s wearing. Because of course, even when she’s not feeling her best, she’s still put together.
“Could I...” She stumbles over her words, waiting for me to finish her sentence.
It’d be easy for me to. I know exactly what she wants to say, but I also need her to start being okay with asking for help, especially from me.
So, I don’t say anything.
“Would it... would you mind if I stayed in here tonight?”
My chest feels like it’s being split in two with how sad she looks. With how vulnerable her request is. She takes care of herself far too often, so this feels much more meaningful than her simply wanting to sleep in my bed.
I’m eager to give her a quick and resounding “yes,” but I think she might be more comfortable if I at least gave her a little shit for it first.
I fold an arm behind my head as I watch her in the doorway. “Is your room too cold again or something?”
She catches on immediately, throwing a thumb over her shoulder. “I can go back in and turn down the temperature if I need an excuse.”
A smile curves at my lips. “No need for an excuse. Come here.”
I lift her side of the covers for her as Reese closes the connecting door and pads over to the bed. I fully expect her to climb in, situate herself along the furthest edge of the mattress from me, and face the wall.
But she doesn’t.
As soon as Reese slips into the bed with me, she scoots her way across the mattress right to me, putting us chest to chest.Tucking her head under my chin, she wraps her arm around my waist. Her way of silently asking me to hold her.
It’s unguarded and sweet and it’s the first time she confirms just how much she’s hurting, even if it’s done so silently.
“Hey,” I soothe, slipping my palm into her hair and cradling her head against me.
I don’t tell her it’s okay because it’s not. I don’t tell her she’s fine because, again, she’s not.
Her fingers desperately press into the skin of my back as if she could just get a bit closer, things might start feeling better for her.
It does a stupid, irresponsible, possessive thing to my chest.
I scoot closer to her, curving my body around hers, covering her legs with one of my own and intertwining us as much as possible.
It’d probably be unprofessional to tell her how much I’ve missed her this week while she’s been hiding out. It’d probably be just as unprofessional to tell her how good it feels to hold her.
At this point, I think we both know we’ve crossed any professional lines that may have stood between us anyway.
I fold both my arms around her back and drop my face to the area where her neck meets her shoulder, breathing her in. We lay like that for a long while, not saying anything. I draw soothing circles against her back. She holds on to me with this firm need that gives me a purpose. Like I can actually do something to help her after a week of feeling utterly helpless.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers against me.
I pull back to look at her. “For what?”
“For making your life harder this week. For needing you to make me feel better.”
“Reese.” My tone is almost scolding because it’s unfathomable to me that she could feel that way. “Tell me the truth. Do you really think that any part of you is a burden to me?”
