“Putting you under a microscope.”
“I don’t mind. I’m grateful for you.”
“Just doing what anyone would.”
“No, you’re not. Most people don’t care about anyone, or they are too afraid to get involved.”
“Sounds like you know from experience.”
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
My fingers itch to reach over and touch her.
She glances back at the tv then says, “Can I ask you something?”
“Shoot.”
“What was your first tattoo?”
A low chuckle erupts from deep within my chest. It’s unexpected but welcome. “That’s easy. I was marking myself up with ink pens and shit before I was even sixteen. Drove my mother crazy. She’d yell at me I was going to get ink poisoning. She bought me my first tattoo gun for my eighteenth birthday. Made me promise her I’d practice on melons first.”
“Did you?”
“Nah.” I hike my shorts up a little on my left thigh. “This was the first.” I point to the skull and crossbones on my upper leg.
“Does it hold any special meaning?”
“Nope. I just wanted something badass.”
Lacey laughs, letting out a yawn. She must be exhausted after the days she’s had.
I pull the cover up over both of us. “Get some sleep,” my voice comes out huskier than I intend.
She’s already falling sideways towards me. Her dark lashes are heavy as they flutter. I direct her head to my shoulder.
She mumbles a quiet “thanks.”
I watch the muscles of her face relax.
I’m not getting any sleep soon. Not with the warmth of her pressing against me, smelling like her cherry body wash and my laundry detergent. I try to resist the urge to bring my mouth down on hers, but fuck if I don’t want to.
“You’re staring,” she mutters.
“Can’t help it. You’re beautiful and I wonder what’s running through your mind right now.”
“Nothing.” She lets out a dry laugh. “It’s strange. Like waking up in a room you swear you’ve lived in, but nothing is yours. I can make decisions. Tell you what I want to eat, but as far as people and places…there’s nothing there. But you. You’re there now.”
She glances up at me through her long lashes with pouty lips. I want to fill that empty space for her. Give her good thoughts to replace whatever is missing.
I pinch her chin between my fingers, holding her gaze. Her minty breath fans against my skin. Fuck, I want to taste her. “You need anything at all, wake me up.”
She responds with a nod, and I don’t miss the disappointment before she closes her eyes.
I lay next to her for what feels like hours as she slumbers next to me. The urge to touch her is nearly painful. Like holding my hand to fire.
Eventually, I pass out, and the next morning the space next to me is empty.
Panic fills my chest. My heart leaps to my damn throat, but then I hear the sizzle of bacon frying in a pan and I relax.
