“Then I’m okay with it.” He tugged her close. “I’m tired, Katrina.”
The rebuke was as gentle as it could be, but she got the hint. “Okay, right. Good night.”
“Night.” In a matter of seconds, his breathing deepened and grew heavy.
She stared out into the darkness of the night, stroking her hand over his. In the history of the world, had any woman ever complained about having a partner who wastooselfless?
Probably not. Despite that lingering sense of anxiety, she closed her eyes and did what she’d learned to do so well. She fell asleep with her breath matched to his, the heat of his body seeping into hers.
Chapter Twenty-Four
THERE WAS SOmuch noise, and the sharp taste of sweat and metallic fear in his mouth. He wanted to leave, but he was pinned, cursed to witness the same horrific sequence of events again and again.
Hands on his chest held him down. He had to get away.
He lashed out, kicking and swatting, and it was only when he heard a grunt that his eyes flew open.
He expected to see McGuire’s deceptively boyish round face over his, but that wasn’t the case. Katrina was on her knees next to him, eyes wide.
The bed. The room. He was in the little house, and Katrina was with him.
“Oh God.” Jas sat up and grasped her hands. They were cold in his, which didn’t bode well. “I’m so sorry. Did I hurt you?”
“No, not at all. I shouldn’t have tried to shake you awake. Are you okay?”
He looked around the room, his grandparents’ old master bedroom. The climate was cool here, not hot or arid. Nothing smelled like blood. “Yes.”
“Let me get you some water.”
“That’s okay.”
But she was already clambering out of bed before he could finish speaking. He rubbed his knee through the blanket, but stopped when she came back from the bathroom.
She turned the light on the nightstand on, and sat on the bed next to him. “Does your leg hurt?”
Couldn’t get much past her. “No. Thank you.” He accepted the glass of tap water.
“You were rubbing it.”
“Sometimes it aches when it’s cold out.” Or when he had this dream, where he was shoved back into that horrific night.
“Can I see?”
He didn’t want to show her, but he couldn’t deny her anything, so he shrugged. She flipped the quilt, shoved his sweatpants up, and examined his naked leg.
“It’s ugly,” he said gruffly.
She traced the scars with a feather-light touch. “No, it’s just you.”
He made a deep noise in his throat, and drained the rest of the water.
“Is that what you dream about? This injury?”
Jas shook his head. Then he nodded. Then shook his head again.
The door widened and Doodle came padding into the room. The animal put her paws on the bed and hopped up, shoving Katrina aside to plop on Jas’s chest. Katrina chuckled. “She seems to really be warming up to you.”
“I snuck her scraps at the table.” Jas scratched the dog’s head and let some of his fear and sadness seep into each stroke. “Most animals aren’t so receptive.”
