“Hey, hey. It’s okay. You don’t have to tell me everything tonight.”
His expression is torn, a mix of gratitude and indecision when I interrupt him but he calms before continuing.
“The therapist I’m seeing now is conditional upon me returning to full-duties. Before we met, I began struggling again. I’m ashamed to say ignorance was my go-to for a long time. I’d attend appointments to appease my family but saw no real impact. Until recently.”
“What changed?”
“You.”
My lips part.
He notes my disbelief. “For a long time, I convinced myself being alone was the safest option. No one needed to witness me at my lowest or when the night terrors became unmanageable. It’s why I didn’t stay the other week. Meeting you forced me to look at my life through a new lens, and I didn’t like what I saw. I want to be the best version of myself for you. It’s why Iasked for things to go slow.” His voice cracks, and a deep sadness clouds his features. “I just wanted you to know, and if this changes anything, I understand.”
What a foolish, beautiful, caring man.
I press my palms to the sides of his face, refusing to let his gaze wander.
“This version, the one in front of me, is more than enough. It’s the one I’m falling for.Havefallen for.” I trace the lines across his strong brow. “Working through your past shouldn’t be because of me or even your job. It should be becauseyouwant to see a change, Warren. I’ll be there every step of the way if you let me. Do you know why?”
He blinks twice before jerking his head.
“Because you and me, we’re a team.”
“A team,” he whispers before kissing the inside of my wrist.
“Exactly.” I press our foreheads together. “I’m proud of you. For how far you’ve come and the work you’re putting in. I’ll be here for you you’re ready to tell me more.”
Exhaustion presses on his shoulders, and dark crescents line his eyes. Something in his gaze tells me there’s more, but we both need this hellish evening to end.
“Let’s go to bed,” I whisper.
The kiss he gives me is gentle, softer than silk. Such gentle pressure, yet despite the delicateness of his lips, I feel every movement in the depths of my soul.
“Okay.”
Then, I’m airborne again.
For all my complaining earlier, I don’t make a peep as he carries me upstairs. Even as we brush our teeth and prepare for bed, Warren’s touch finds a home on my skin. He needs this.
It’s only when we stand at the foot of the bed that it falls away.
Apprehension twists his features.
He’s nervous about staying the night. Now knowing about his PTSD, his night terrors and avoidance of staying the night make sense. I’m determined to give him a safe space to land.
“It won’t offend me if you leave,” I offer.
“I want to stay.” He gulps before glancing at me. “They don’t happen often. Not anymore. If I do wake and it’s bad, I’ll move to the sofa.”
“Let’s try.” I guide him to lie with me under the covers, tucking them high and cocooning us in. “It’s me and you. I’m here.”
I’m dragged into his tight embrace, my back to his front. One hand rests on the swell of my stomach while the other lays over my heart. It takes some time for him to relax, but eventually, his breaths even, and his body slumps into the mattress. I stop fighting my exhaustion and join him.
The next time I open my eyes, the birds tweet, the sun sneaks through the curtains, and Warren snores softly into my neck.
FORTY-SEVEN
WARREN
