Vacant and unmoving, he stares up at the ceiling.
Something in me cracks at the sight. Firefighters see a lot of awful things. They’re usually the first on the scene, bearing witness to tragedies continuously. Is that what’s triggering this nightmare?
He calms under my touch, body gradually returning to its sleepy state.
I start to retreat. “I’m next door if you need me.”
His gaze remains glued forward, weathered and worn by his haunted dreams. “Don’t leave me.Please.”
The last word is hoarse and brimming with despair, shredding the last of my resolve.
Screw the boundaries and lines. He can tell me to go. Only, he doesn’t. He doesn’t move a muscle when I climb into bed beside him, link our fingers, and, with my other hand, stroke the soft hairs along his jaw.
“Please don’t leave me,” he whimpers, and I hush himsoftly, trying to ease him back to sleep when he suddenly turns to me, recognition flaring in his eyes. “Harriet?”
“Yeah, it’s me. You’re not alone.” I watch as the tension eases from his shoulders, his fingers squeezing mine in silent acknowledgement. “You’re at your parent’s house. Safe.”
“Safe,” he echoes, almost testing the word. “Are you safe?”
I pause. “I’m very safe. Especially with you.”
He swallows, voice leaden with regret. “They weren’t.”
Whatever questions zip around my brain go unasked. Now isn’t the time. “Everyone is safe, you can rest. Try closing your eyes.”
Right before his eyelids flutter closed, a darkness shadows his features, shrouding him in despair again.
Just as my arm numbs, his breathing grows shallow. I study him, cataloging the gray hairs on his temple and beard, the wrinkles at the corner of his eyes, the strong bridge of his nose. Small welts and scars decorate his hands and forearms. Occupational hazards.
Whatever barricades he had up crumbled this evening, leaving him the most vulnerable I’ve witnessed in the short time we’ve known each other.
I could return to my room. I should. Instead, I rest my head on his shoulder and join him, hoping whatever demons haunted him stay away.
Turns out,pretending last night never happened is the route we’re going.
Groggy and weighted with sleep, I wake to find the space beside me cold and empty. There’s an extra blanket draped over me, a fresh glass of orange juice, water, and a mini box of cereal on the bedside table, confirming Warren was here atsome point and the events of last night weren’t my imagination.
It’s Sunday, meaning no work for most, but Warren and Marcus are both on shift later, and I’m meeting with the girls for brunch at Margot’s.
Needing out of his bedroom, I dash for the door and slink down the corridor. I almost make it until an amused voice sounds behind me.
“Do I pretend to not see you or greet you good morning?”
Angling my head, I meet Ben’s gaze, sparkling with mischief.
He’s easy to like and I return his smile. “The latter is fine, so long as you promise to not make it weird. It isn’t what it looks like.”
“And what does it look like?” He cocks a brow.
“That I’m sneaking out of Warren’s room.” My response is breezy.
He’s itching to make a joke. “You’re new here, so I’ll take it easy on you.” He winks. “Now, be on your way before my mom or sister sees you. That’ll get the rumor mill churning, and I can’t help you then.”
Rolling my eyes, I turn back to the door before pausing and facing him again. “Ben?”
“Yeah?”
“Warren…” I start, unsure how to word my thoughts. “Is there anything I should know?”
