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The room was dark now.
Or at least as dark as it could be for five o’clock in the afternoon.
The armchair in the corner of my room was piled high with clean clothes. I didn’t bother folding or putting my laundry away these days, so they were just tossed there to use. Right now, though, I needed the chair, so I shoved the clothes to the floor and wrapped my arms around it, carrying it to the door.
Shay’s eyes followed me in silence as I pressed the back of the chair hard against the wood and pulled my gun from the back of my jeans. I fell back into the chair, resting my gun and hand on my knee and getting comfortable.
“Sleep, Shay.”
She pulled the comforter up to her neck, tucking it in around her. “What are you—”
“I’m gonna sit here so you can sleep knowing not a fucking thing in this world is going to get past me,” I told her honestly, clutching my nine millimeter tightly in my grasp. “Now close your eyes.”
It was so hard to sit there and not climb into the bed with her.
But despite knowing my self-control would not stand it, that wasn’t what this was about.
This was about making her feel safe. I’d deal with the rest of these feelings later since it was becoming pretty fucking obvious they weren’t going away any time soon.
But for now, I’d sit here.
I’d protect her from the danger outside this room and the shadows within if I had to.
Her eyelids fluttered, already struggling to keep them open. “You’re going to just sit on a chair at the door every night while I sleep?”
“If I have to.”
She sigh heavily, sinking further into bed and deeper into sleep. “You’re a stubborn man, Bishop.”
You have no idea.
Chapter Eighteen
SHAY
I blinked hard, the sunlight peeking through the curtains, hitting me right in the eyes and erasing the remnants of a peaceful dream. I let out a heavy sigh, rolling onto my back and sinking into the soft, feathery pillows, wondering when I would finally get a full night’s sleep and not just nap through the daylight.
“You okay?” Bishop’s low tone filled the room, and I quickly sat up and turned toward the door.
He was right where I’d left him.
His gun was still resting casually on his knee, his phone in his other hand.
I wet my dry lips and cleared my throat. “Did I get a few hours at least?”
His entire face screwed up, and he looked at me like I wasn’t speaking English. “A few hours?”
I scrubbed at my face, trying to scoop those annoying bits from the corners of my eyes. “Yeah. Did I get a few hours sleep? The sun still hasn’t gone down yet.” While I was still a little groggy, I actually felt a lot better than I usually did when I woke from a power nap, the grogginess clearing much faster.
“The sun went down twelve hours ago,” Bishop answered, nodding to the window and putting his hand to his mouth when a yawn overcame him. “That’s the sunrise, not the sunset.”
It was morning.
If the sun was just coming up, probably around six o’clock, if I had to guess.
There were no shadows.
No darkness.
