I can’t sleep.
Again.
The digital clock on my nightstand glares at me accusingly, its harsh red numbers reminding me of how late—or early—it is. 2:47 a.m.
Brilliant.
Is it the jet lag still messing with my system, or am I just afraid to be alone?
I toss and turn, trying to find a comfortable position, but my mind refuses to quiet down, racing with thoughts of work and the guys. I could go upstairs, but I resist the urge. I don’t want to let whoever took my work take my home from me too.
It’s my sanctuary, dammit.
And it’s not fair to ask them to sleep at my place so I’m not alone all the time, is it? Still, I remember how bloody amazing it felt having Oliver here. His strong arms around me all night, making me feel safe and protected.
God, I’m so hopelessly in love with him. It’s pathetic.
With all of them.
But I was exhausted then. Maybe that’s the key—tire myself out until I can’t keep my eyes open. With a frustrated sigh,I throw off the covers and change into my workout gear. The building’s gym should be empty at this ungodly hour, perfect for a bit of late-night exercise.
But when I push open the gym door, I freeze in my tracks. There’s someone else here. A man with his back to me, lifting weights. My heart races for a moment before I recognize those unruly black curls.
Misha.
Of course, he’d be here at this hour—the man never sleeps.
I approach him quietly, not wanting to startle him midlift. He’s got headphones in, completely lost in his workout and with music blaring in his ears. I reach out and gently tap his shoulder, bracing myself for his reaction.
Misha jumps, almost dropping the weight on his foot. “Shit,” he exclaims, yanking out his earbuds and whirling around.
“I’m so sorry!” I say, feeling terrible for scaring him. “I didn’t mean to sneak up on you like that.”
But Misha just laughs, his dark eyes lighting up as he sees me. “What are you doing down here at this hour?”
Before I can formulate a witty response, he pulls me into his arms and kisses me, soft and sweet at first, then with growing intensity that makes my toes curl. When we finally break apart, we’re both a little breathless, and I feel heat rising in my cheeks.
“Couldn’t sleep,” I explain, smiling at him and trying to ignore the butterflies in my stomach.
Misha grins, giving me that devilishly handsome smile that could melt ice. “Well, want to join me for a late-night workout session?”
I nod, and he helps me set up a workout routine, explaining each exercise with patience and enthusiasm, just like Oliver did. His playful encouragement keeps me going even when my muscles start to protest. I feel a little lighter just being with him,his infectious energy chasing away some of the darkness that’s been plaguing me.
When we finish a particularly grueling set of squats maybe thirty minutes later, Misha looks at me seriously, his jovial expression fading. “Why aren’t you sleeping? Really? What’s going on in that brilliant mind of yours?”
I sigh, wiping sweat from my forehead with the back of my hand. “I think… I’m afraid to be alone right now. It’s silly. I know I said I wanted to be alone tonight, but I can’t help it.”
“You know you don’t have to be,” he says gently, his hand coming to rest on my shoulder. “We told you that.”
“I know, but it feels unfair to make you guys stay around all the time,” I admit, biting my lip and avoiding his gaze. “You all have your own lives, your own flat. I can’t expect you to drop everything for me.”
Misha chuckles, shaking his head in disbelief. “Haven’t you realized by now?You are our life. You’re not making us do anything, Bug. If it were up to us, you’d have all of us constantly around, hovering like overprotective mother hens. You’re the one keeping us at arm’s length.”
He’s right. I am the one doing that.
I yawn, the fatigue finally catching up to me after our workout. Misha notices and smiles softly. “Getting tired?”
“A little,” I admit with a shrug, trying to play it cool even as another yawn threatens to escape.
