May reached across the console and laced her fingers with his. “We’ll figure it out.”
He glanced at her. “I don’t suppose I could stay with you tonight.”
Her fingers felt good threaded with his. “I figured you were going to sleep over,” she said.
“Good.” He kept his hand firm on the wheel. “They haven’t released my place yet. They’re searching it again.” He refused to let his irritation show.
They drove the rest of the way in silence. The light outside was thin and endless, the kind that never fully turned to night. When they pulled into her driveway, Ace didn’t get out right away. He scanned the tree line, the edge of the property, the dark underbrush near the shed. The place seemed clear.
He stepped out, rounded the truck, and opened her door.
“What are you looking for?” she asked quietly.
“Everything. Anyone who doesn’t belong.” He trusted his instincts with predators. Human or otherwise. The air felt clean. No wrongness. Still, he stayed alert as they walked to the front door and she unlocked it.
Inside, he did a quick sweep without making a show of it, and then returned to the living room where she stood in the middle of it, almost as if she wasn’t sure what to do next. “Why don’t I make you something to eat?” he asked.
She looked around, eyes too wide, face pale under the overhead light. “I’m not hungry.”
He didn’t argue. He stepped forward and pulled her into him, one arm around her shoulders, the other firm at her back. “It’s all right, May.”
“I know,” she said, muffled against his chest.
He held her tighter. He could feel the tension still locked in her muscles, the way she was holding herself together by sheer will. She’d been strong all day for everyone else. “It really is okay,” he murmured, resting his chin against the top of her head.
May Smirnov was one of the strongest people he’d ever known, but she’d been carrying too much alone. That ended tonight.
He cradled the back of her head, his hand splayed through her thick hair, and felt it before he heard it. Her body went rigid, like something bracing against impact. Then it hit. A raw sob tore out of her, small but violent.
She broke.
Ace didn’t move. He just held her, firm and unyielding, taking the weight without a word.
Chapter Thirty
May jerked awake, surrounded by warmth and solid muscle. For a split second she didn’t know where she was, only that something heavy and steady held her in place. She blinked until the room came into focus and registered the hard planes of Ace’s chest bracketing her shoulders. She’d curled almost into a ball against him during the night, and one of his arms lay heavy across her waist, palm warm against her hip.
The house was dark and quiet. She turned her head toward the blackout blinds and then the clock glowing faint green across the room. Three a.m. Wonderful.
Careful not to wake him, she lifted his arm the best she could and scooted out from under it. The sheets were still warm from his body, and the air outside felt cooler against her skin.
“Where are you going?” he asked sleepily.
She froze and glanced back at him. “I need some water, and I might finish notating a couple of patient charts. I’m not ready to go back to sleep.”
He pushed himself up on one elbow. The blanket fell to his waist, and in the faint light that filtered around the edges of the blinds, he looked strong and dangerous. Entirely male. His hair was tousled and his jaw shadowed. “Do you need my help?”
“No. Get some sleep, Ace.” She gave him a small smile. “I’ll be back in probably an hour. I like to sleep from four to six. That’s my best dream time.”
His chuckle sounded both soft and drowsy. “Wait a minute.” He reached out and caught her wrist firmly enough to hold her there. Then he went still. Completely still.
Silence ticked around them.
“What are you doing?” she whispered.
“Just listening,” he said.
She held her breath and did the same. At first she heard nothing but the faint hum of the refrigerator down the hall and the soft rhythm of his breathing. Then she picked up the weather. A distant rush of wind blew through the trees, and rain tapped gently against the roof in an uneven pattern. Somewhere farther out, an animal moved through brush, the sound small and natural. She hadn’t even realized the weather had turned.
