Not that it mattered. He would sit in an empty room watching paint dry if he could do it with her.
After the movie was over, he reluctantly lifted her off his lap, rising.
“It’s late,” she said.
“I know. I should probably head back.”
She tilted her head. “Or…you could always stay here. Sleep over. Just sleep,” she added hastily, before wincing. “I mean…”
“I’d love to sleep here. Just sleep,” he echoed, with a playful wink.
“Okay,” she said cheerily, grasping his hand and guiding him to her bedroom.
It was directly connected to her living room, so despite him never being inside it, he’d seen it through the open door every time he was over. Like the rest of the apartment, it was tidy, everything in its place, her bed always made.
She claimed what was obviously her side, given the cluttered nightstand. He crossed to the opposite. He pulled his jeans off, leaving his boxer briefs in place, while Wren climbed in wearing just her T-shirt.
“No nightgown?” he teased.
“Sleep shirt,” she retorted, giggling.
They climbed onto the mattress at the same time. “Should we build a pillow wall?” he asked, unable to resist the joke.
This time, she laughed and smacked him on the shoulder. “No, smart-ass.”
They met in the middle, Grayson lying on his back as Wren curled up next to him, resting her head on his chest, just as she’d done so many times on the couch.
Those three words kept tugging at the edge of his mind, wanting to be said.
Grayson managed to keep them in.
But only just barely.
Chapter Seventeen
Wren woke with a scream trapped in her throat and for one awful second, she couldn’t breathe.
She was drowning, just as she had so many nights before. Only she didn’t drown in water. But in memories.
The darkness of her bedroom twisted around her. Sweat soaked through her T-shirt. Her hair stuck to her temples and the side of her face, and her heart slammed against her ribs so hard, it hurt.
She tried to move but couldn’t.
Panic exploded through her when she realized a weight was pinning her to the mattress. An arm. A man.
No. No, no, no!
He’s back. He’s here.
A tiny voice in the back of her head tried to reassure her that wasn’t possible, but it was too quiet to penetrate over the current roaring in her ears.
She shoved against the body beside her with every ounce of strength she had.
“Wren?”
The deep voice barely registered as she scrambled backward, tumbling to the floor. She didn’t let the fall slow her down. Instead, she scooted on her ass, crab-crawling away until she was stopped by her bedroom wall.
“Wren,” the voice said again, quiet, calm, steady, as the lamp on the nightstand flickered on.
