A couple of months ago, I would’ve gone to bed at the same time as Georgie. Maybe read a chapter or two before falling asleep. But ever since Vince moved in, I’ve found myself waiting up for him—half-listening for his car, checking the clock, making sure he doesn’t need a ride or a hand or…anything.
Sometimes it’s enough just to know he gets home. Other times—almost every night lately—I can’t settle until I see him. We end up on his tiny couch or in my living room until I’m yawning andhe’s finally loosened enough to smile. Those nights always feel easy. Casual.
But tonight doesn’t.
Tonight I can’t settle.
Rubbing my face, I stare out the window, wishing time would pass a little faster. I flip through the channels on the TV, though I’m not paying attention to anything. My gaze keeps drifting to the back window. Waiting. Wanting.
As soon as the headlights sweep across the yard, I’m on my feet, pulling the sliding glass door open and stepping outside before his car even rolls to a stop. I force myself to walk.
Vince opens the door but doesn’t get out.
I rest a hand on the car above him and lean in. “Hey.”
He gives me a tired smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Hey.”
My heart aches for him. Vince looks even more tired now, a weight on his shoulders that hadn’t been there before. Or maybe it was just buried under all that tension.
I don’t comment on it. “You hungry? I saved you some of that pot roast. It’s in your fridge.”
Vince’s eyes widen a fraction. “That sounds amazing.”
“I’d offer some biscuits to go with it, but Bones thought you wouldn’t need them.”
He chuckles.
“Dumb dog ate nearly half the plate before I realized it. Oh! I wanted to show you this.”
I pull my phone out to show him the movie trailer Darren sent me earlier in the day. Vince is clearly interested, reacting at all the right parts, just as I knew he would.
“It comes out next weekend. I was thinking we could go. You know, for something to do.”
He looks up, the corner of his mouth hitched into a small, tired smile. “Sounds fun.”
My stomach flutters.Shit, did I just ask him on a date?
Finally, he climbs out, wincing as soon as he puts his weight on his feet. I slide my arm around his back and shut the door. Vince doesn’t pull away, which tells me just how much he’s hurting.
I steer him toward the suite, keeping my tone light and my grip steady. He sinks onto the couch with a tired huff. I crouch to untie his shoes, then gently pull them off, followed by his socks. He watches me with something like amusement in his eyes.
“You don’t have a foot fetish, do you?”
I snort and hand him the bottle of pain cream from the nightstand.
Without asking, I reheat the food for him in the microwave while he applies the lotion. After, he gets up to wash his hands. He takes his shirt off before sitting down, wiping sweat from his brow. We sit close on the couch—closer than necessary. I drape an arm behind him. Vince eats slowly, shoulders finally relaxing.
But the darkness never leaves him. He seems defeated.
I touch his shoulder, telling him about my day, if only to keep his mind off his. Finally, he sets the bowl aside and faces me.
“I don’t know how much longer I can keep doing this.”
My stomach tightens. “Doing what?”
“Working there. It’s getting harder every day.”
I keep my voice even. “Have you talked to Declan yet?”
