“Girlfriend?” His tone is casual.
“Yes.” I knew this was coming. “Get whatever you want to say off your chest. You have until we’re at the firehouse.”
He snorts. “So defensive. Wait until your sister and mom find out.”
“You will not be the one to tell my mother. It’s new and…”
“A big step.” He pats me between the shoulder blades. “I’m fucking happy for you, brother. I’m also proud.”
I twist to face him, surprised to see emotion lining his face. Marcus has stuck with me through thick and thin. Where most friends would fade or grow tired of my shit, he hasn’t once turned his back on me.
He lowers his voice. “I know the therapy sessions were the last thing you wanted to do, but you stuck with them. Doctor Brunswick did nothing but sing your praises. It’s good having you back where you belong.”
He doesn’t just mean on the job.
“I’m selling the house.”
Marcus rears his head at the sudden subject change.
“It’s time. I’ve put it off for too long, and I want to move forward. With Harriet. I’ll find somewhere closer to her.” My voice turns lighter, a lot like how I’m feeling whenever Harriet occupies my mind, which is often. Everything feels lighter recently. “We’re giving this a real shot, and it’s time to put the past behind me, once and for all.”
“I’ll do what I can to help.” He pats my back. “You’ve told her everything?”
My attention remains facing forward. “She knows about my PTSD and April thirtieth.”
FORTY-EIGHT
HARRIET
TWENTY-EIGHT WEEKS PREGNANT
I was neveran early riser before pregnancy, preferring to leave the worm for the other birds. Having worked in hospitality for most of my life, you grow accustomed to late nights and mornings spent lazing in bed.
Warren is the opposite. Even after a grueling twenty-four shift, he wakes at the crack of dawn, either to work out or read a book with his morning coffee.
These days, I rise with the sun, and more recently, I haven’t woken alone.
Since Warren’s first night sleeping over two weeks ago, we’ve found the perfect balance between our busy schedules and have fallen into an easy routine. He spends his nights off here, and when he’s at the firehouse, I try to visit, or we FaceTime during his downtime.
The accident, while a nightmare—for Warren especially—was also a silver lining. Warren has shed so many layers over the last few weeks, revealing more and more of himself insmall quantities. There are still moments he hesitates or worries, and I’ve woken to find him staring blankly at the ceiling on some occasions, but we’re miles from where we started.
I’m incredibly proud of him, even more so since he returned to full duties and continued seeing the therapist the department originally assigned him to.
Neither of us worked last night, and I can tell he’s awake by the way his hands travel a slow path across my body. Feigning sleep isn’t possible, especially when his palm cups my breast, thumb toying with my nipple.
I arch into him, rubbing my ass against the erection quickly growing behind his briefs.
Most evenings, I’m too tired for sex. Warren doesn’t care. He’ll cook me dinner, massage my feet, run me baths, and carry me to bed. The mood always seems to strike at sunrise.
“Good morning, sweetheart.” His voice is thick with sleep, tickling over my skin with its roughness.
“Mmm,” I grumble while enjoying his touch. One hand slips under my baggy T-shirt while the other toys with the hem of my panties. “Is this how I should expect to wake up every morning?”
“If that’s what my girl wants.” He shoves past my waistband and strokes softly between my legs before discarding them off to the side. “There she is. This pussy is always so wet and ready for me.”
Barely any attention, and I’m soaked.
I nod urgently while reaching behind me to free his cock. “I need you.”
