Page 81 of Puck Me Back to Life

“You don't sleep much.”

Not a question.

I stare at the ceiling. “No.”

He is quiet for a moment.

Then— “Nightmares?”

The word lands like a puck to the ribs.

I shrug.

Ash doesn't push. Which somehow makes it worse. People usually push. People want explanations.

Ash just watches me. Waiting. Giving me room. I hate how much I like that.

“Sometimes.”

His thumb brushes once against my side. Barely there. Like he doesn't realize he's doing it.

“Okay.”

That's all he says.

Okay.

Not tell me.

Not why.

Just okay.

The lump in my throat gets bigger.

His hand slides into my hair. My stupid heart immediately starts acting up.

I decide violence is the answer. I shove his shoulder.

He barely moves. “Ow.”

“You're enormous. That didn't hurt.”

“It hurt emotionally.”

“Good.”

Ash's grin widens.

His hand trails up my stomach, pushing my shirt further up my chest.

“Ash?”

Ash buries his face into my neck, his lips pressing against my pulse. “Hm?”

He pinches my nipple, causing a grunt to be pulled from my mouth. “What are you doing?”

“Just shut up,” His hand starts pulling down my briefs with a fiery urgency.