Page 78 of The Devil’s Lair

His close-lipped smile and sparkling eyes make my stomach flip. After Marcus, I never thought I’d find another man attractive again, but I can’t deny what’s happening to me any longer. I’m madly attracted to my husband. There’s one small problem, though.

Tobias isn’t where I am, and he never will be.

Yes, he’s grown comfortable holding my hand or giving me a hug, but that’s platonic. He’s made his position clear, and I will not ruin what we have by doing something stupid like kissing him.

God, I want to kiss him.

“Well, goodnight.” He backs up a step. “Sleep well.” Spinning on his heel, he disappears inside his living room without looking back.

I’m despondent when I reach my rooms, tired yet antsy, so I check on Isla. She hasn’t moved and looks so comfortable. No matter what my feelings for Tobias are growing into, Isla comes first. If I told Tobias what I was feeling, I’d wreck our friendship and make things awkward, and that could impact his relationship with Isla. I’d never do that to her.

I flick through the TV channels, sighing. Nothing grabs my attention. May as well go to bed and at least try to sleep. I saw once on a military documentary that soldiers repeat the word “sleep” over and over until their brain listens. That’s worth a shot.

An hour later, I’m still staring at the ceiling, wide awake. I fling back the covers and shove my feet into my slippers. Maybe a glass of warm milk will help me drift off. I pick up the baby monitor and head into the hallway. I could call and have one of the staff members bring me a drink, but it still gives me the ick to do that. I’m like them, working class. I feel uncomfortable being waited on, and I probably always will.

The kitchen lights are on when I enter, although it’s empty. I open one of the gigantic fridges that’s filled with meat and vegetables, no milk. I move to the next fridge. Ah, there it is. I take out the jug and set about finding a pan and a mug.

It doesn’t take long for the milk to simmer, and I pour it into a mug and head back upstairs. As I reach the top, a sound drifts toward me. Was that someone crying out? I cock my ears and hold my breath.

There it is again.

Instead of turning right toward my rooms, I head left, pausing outside Tobias’s door. I raise my hand to knock, but the cry comes again, strangled and full of anguish. I turn the knob and enter.

On the other side of the cozy living room, a door is ajar. That’s definitely where the sound is coming from. Feeling like an interloper, I tiptoe over and peek inside.

Tobias is in bed, his quilt half on the floor, and he’s scissoring his legs like he’s trying to fight someone off. He’s dressed only in a pair of black boxer shorts. I avert my gaze from his body. It doesn’t feel right to stare when he’s in distress, like I’m taking advantage of him at a vulnerable time.

“No.” His hands are in front of his face now, warding away whatever demons have infiltrated his dreams. “No, please. Not again. Please, no. Mum. Muuuum.”

My stomach clenches. I move to the side of his bed and set down my mug of milk. I don’t touch him. I don’t want to startle him.

“Tobias,” I say gently. “It’s me, Rebecca.”

“NO!” He kicks out, narrowly missing my stomach, forcing me to back up.

“It’s okay. You’re okay. You’re safe.” I use the same tone I use with Isla when she has bad dreams. “I’m here.”

He launches upright, eyes wild, hair sticking out at all angles. He looks at me, but he doesn’t appear to see me. Then he blinks once, twice, a third time.

“Rebecca, what’s wrong? Is it Isla?”

“No, no. Isla’s fine.” I move a little closer. “You were having a nightmare.”

A frown drifts across his face. “I was?”

I nod.

He rubs his forehead like he’s trying to retrieve the memory. “I don’t remember it. Did I say anything?”

“Yes, you were saying no a lot. And calling for your mum.”

“Manly.” He gives me a wry smile. “Please take that to your grave. I have a reputation to uphold.”

“There’s nothing wrong with wanting your mum. You were so young when she died. That’s bound to have left its mark.”

He grabs the quilt and pulls it over himself. “Oops. Didn’t mean to flash you.”

“It’s not a problem.” If only I could share how little of a problem it is. I pick up my mug of milk. “I’ll let you get some sleep.”