Page 74

The silence isn’t relaxing this time, it’s tense. Mostly from me. I start to back away. This is a bad idea.

Bennett’s hand snaps out and wraps around my wrist, tugging me toward him. Seven peeks up from his spot at the top of the stairs, before raising himself up with more excitement and racing sloppily toward me.

“Hey.” I grin, voice low and soft as I pet his fur. “Miss you, too, Sev.”

“What—” Bennett coughs roughly, pulling his shirt up over his mouth. He clears his throat, but his voice is scratchy and worn. “How are you here?” He leans toward me, lifting a hand like he’s in a daze, observing me like I’m some apparition from his brain.

“Oh, um—” I gulp down air like there’s a short supply. “I came to see you, but—” A strange laugh escapes my lips as my face burns. “I’m . . . I’m sorry.”

“No—wait.” He clears his throat, voice raw as he steps backward away from me. I track my eyes over him again—sweat-glistening skin, reddened circles around his half-lidded ocean-blue eyes, slumped posture.

“Oh god, Bennett, are you sick?” I ask, stepping toward him on instinct. He tries to back away, like he’s got the plague and he’s terrified it’ll infect me.

“Mmhmm.” He draws out, eyes closing and breath heaving in his broad chest. “So, you should probably go now. I took some NyQuil and now I’m seeing things.”

It almost looks like he’s going to fall asleep right here, half leaned against the wall of the foyer. I bite down on my lip, smashing the threatening smile away. He looks so boyish, it’s distracting.

“Can I help you get to your room? You need to sleep.”

“You’re always in my room, P.” He slurs the words a bit. I approach anyway, slipping my arm around his thick waist. Even in his half-delusional, cough medicine–induced state, he doesn’t collapse his weight on me. Like he’s aware even now of his size and stature.

With my help, we walk up the stairs and toward his room.

The smell of it hits me like a brick wall, assaulting my senses all at once. Bergamot and pine, and something softer like fresh, warm sheets. It’s the smell of home for me.

I untuck his sheets carefully on both sides of the bed. He watches me, eyes still only half open, but there’s a softer set to his shoulders. He’s not as tense as he’d usually be when allowing me to complete one of his rituals for him.

“Get in, love.” The old familiar word sneaks out of my mouth.

He smiles, sleepy and sated, and I don’t have it in me to care about the line I’ve crossed.

Bennett’s hands brush my hips as he passes me to slide into his sheets and comforter. He pulls the sweat-sticky shirt off, revealing the warm, pinkened skin of his upper body. He takes up so much of the bed, body heavy and limp before I’ve even flicked off his bedside lamp.

“Stay, P,” he calls, voice whisper quiet. The window blinds are closed tight, casting the room in a peaceful darkness. “Please.”

My heart tugs like the organ is trying to burst from my chest and into his hands, where it’s always belonged.

Seeing Bennett like this feels wrong, the usual pillar of strength weakened by sickness. And knowing Bennett, I’m sure it’s causing all sorts of anxiety by throwing his routines and rituals off.

I want to care for him. To do what I know he’d do for me, though he’d never ask me to.

“I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Chapter 34

NOW

Bennett

Light flickers between the slightly opened blinds.

And there’s no sound of Seven.

I jolt up, hand coming to rub at my head as it throbs in earnest.

Hoisting myself up and out of bed, I resist the urge to shower just yet, needing to check on wherever the hell Seven is, too worried about him to care that I stink of sweat . . . even if my sweat-slick sleep pants sticking to me feel like knives in my skin.

“Seven?” I call, heaving myself slowly down the last few steps. I hear the pitter-patter of paws accompanied by feet and turn—