Five days of that.
She's stopped pretending she sleeps through any of it.
I cross the kitchen. Refill her coffee. Set the pot back down. Stay standing behind her chair longer than I need to. My hand goes to the back of her neck under her hair, the way it's started doing whenever I pass her, and she tips her head forward without being asked and lets me work my thumb along the muscle there.
She makes a soft sound. The kind a woman makes when she's trying not to make one.
My jeans get tighter.
"Hawk."
"Mm."
"You're going to have to make a decision."
"About."
"About whether we're going to keep pretending the couch is working out for you."
I don't answer.
I lean down instead. Put my mouth at the corner of her jaw. Not a kiss. A breath. She shivers.
Ghost lifts his head from the rug, gives me a long-suffering look, and flops back down. Traitor is judging me now.
"Parker's coming up tomorrow afternoon."
"I know."
"Raid's Thursday. You'll be out of here by end of the week."
"I know."
"Delilah."
"I know, Hawk. That's what I'm saying. I've got three nights left on this mountain. You're going to spend them on the couch?"
I straighten up. Walk to the woodstove. Add a log I don't need to add. Put my hands flat on the mantel and stare at the fire until my breathing steadies.
"I'm trying to do this right."
"I know you are."
"You've had a concussion, a broken ankle, bruised ribs, a man with a rifle on your trail, and about six hours of real sleep in a week."
"All of which is true, and none of which makes me want you any less."
I turn.
She's twisted in her chair to watch me. The Henley is slipping further off that shoulder. The curve of her collarbone has become a problem that owns real estate in my head.
"Come here."
She stands. Balances. Hops the first two steps and then limps the rest on a foot that can take some weight now. I close the distance halfway because I'm done pretending I can let her come all the way to me.
I catch her waist with both hands.
"You sure."
