Alone, because my dang dog abandoned me for her very own queen-sized bed again, I flicked off the light and curled up on my side with my silly lobster roll stuffed animal. I lay there for what felt like forever, listening to the white noise of the projector,staring at the colorful ceiling, and running my fingers over the lobster’s little feet and claws.
I couldn’t tell you when it went from a thought to reality, but eventually, I found myself calling out softly, “Colter?”
I waited.
Two seconds.
Five.
But no answer came.
It was for the best,I tried to convince myself even as there was a sinking sensation in my chest.
“Yeah, babe?” Colter asked, making my heart leap as I turned to see him standing in the doorway, naked from the waist up.
“Sleep in here with me?”
He didn’t answer, just walked to the other side of the bed and slid in.
His arm slid under my pillow but didn’t curl me into him like the needy part of me wanted.
“The lobster can come too,” he invited, making my lips curl up.
“In that case…” I said, scooting closer until my head was on his chest with the lobster roll nestled on Colter’s other side, close enough so my fingers could still rub over his weirdly comforting little legs.
“Could get used to this,” Colter said, wrapping his arms around me.
The scary part?
I could too.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Colter
We’d never get a chance to know how nice it would be to intentionally wake up curled up together.
Sugar decided to take that away from us, hopping up on the bed, then walking closer to stand over us with a confused look.
“Ow,” Dylan grumbled as Sugar pawed at her. “Down, girl,” she said, her voice sleepy.
But Sugar, who usually obeyed, wasn’t having it.
She let out a whine and nudged her again.
“Is she alerting you?” I asked.
“Maybe,” she said, grumbling as she moved away from me. “Okay, I heard you, girl,” she said, softening her voice as Sugar nudged her again while she slid off the bed and walked over toward her kit.
“Low?” I asked, folding up.
“I mean a little. She’s being a little dramatic,” she said, grabbing her bottle of glucose tablets and tossing one into her mouth. “How are those things?”
“They’re chalky. Like antacid tablets. You get used to them, though.”
“Should probably get you some breakfast,” I said, glancing at the clock.
“I have to—” she started, only to be interrupted by a knock at the door.
