That warmth heated by several degrees.
Man, oh man.
I was fucked in so many ways.
10
Cuddle Puddle!
After eating, we’d intended to test out some of the incredible amenities our new quarters offered. However, we soon admitted defeat. Even Griffin, the only one not sporting five new scars ringing his chest, was exhausted. Apparently he really meant it when he said he would have preferred to die a hundred deaths than to have witnessed ours. His trauma dragged along his face, drawing his beautiful lips into a constant grimace. His eyes, usually sharp and alert, were often distant, as if he kept catching himself lost in a loop of awful memories.
It was happening to me, too. All those shots echoed through my mind, startling me all over again every time I heard them. Visions of Layla and Hunt dropping to the floor followed. My nerves were fried, and in the absence of all the adrenaline that had flooded my system, even my legs wobbled as I plodded around the unfamiliar house.
By 9:00 p.m., I dragged myself into bed with wet hair, just grateful I’d found the energy to shower. No one wanted to break in their new bed witheau de dead on a school gymnasium floor.
I thought achingly of Bobo, who usually slept at the foot of my bed. On the days I pampered him, which were often, he slept on the bed itself. I wondered how he was faring without me and if he’d already realized I was never coming back. He was a smart boy, very sensitive to his surroundings and to whatever was going on with me. I resolved to retrieve him tomorrow. If we were staying here for a significant length of time, I wouldn’t trust his care to Monica and Reece, whoever they truly were. I’d never trust either of them ever again. In a time when I wasn’t certain of much, I was certain of that.
The intoxicating lull of sleep was already tugging me under when the door opened and closed quietly. The part of me that realized I was now in constant danger tried to jostle me to alertness. But I was still recovering, and the morphine and whatever other drugs still lingered in my system, making me groggy. Besides, my crew was in the house with me. My eyelids fluttered in an attempt to remain open and failed.
“Hmmmmm,” I hummed groggily a moment before I recognizedhim. His presence was different from anyone else’s—somehow more mine than any of my other friends.
“Griff?” I mumbled into my pillow.
“Yeah, it’s me.” His voice was soft and alluring as a dream. “Do you mind if I sleep in here with you tonight?”
That got my eyes open. He stood at the edge of the bed, gazing down at me. He wore a t-shirt and boxers, his feet already bare.
“I don’t want to be without you right now,” he whispered so gently that I questioned if perhaps I was already dreaming. That was an unusually vulnerable admission for him.
“You wanna sleep in the bed with me?” I asked, unsure whether it was fact gathering or an invitation.
“I do.”
I shifted from my side onto my back to stare up at him. The room was dark, but enough diffuse moonlight filtered through the closed blinds that I could make out the outline of his body.
We’d slept together countless times over the years growing up together. But our other friends had always been there too. There was a room at Hunt’s house we’d dubbed the “sleepover room” since it was large enough to accommodate five twin mattresses.
But the rest of our friends weren’t here this time as a buffer—and Griffin and I had admitted we loved each other.
We’d also all died, and despite our apparent immortality I’d never been so keenly aware of how fleeting life could be. Our resilience didn’t guarantee a tomorrow, especially not with someone like Magnum Chase involved at every turn.
Apparently I was taking too long to answer. Griffin took a step backward.
“Never mind,” he said, his voice gruffer now, “it was a stupid idea.” He turned toward the door, padding away from me on silent footfalls. “You need your rest. I’ll check on you tomorrow.”
I pushed up onto my elbows. “Griff …”
He stopped and turned back toward me. “Yeah?”
My heart squeezed at how hopeful he sounded. Griffin had a soft side but he didn’t often reveal it, not even to me.
“I don’t want to be away from you now either,” I admitted, drawing down the covers in welcome.
Unmoving, he stared at me for so long that I asked, “Is something wrong?”
Slowly, he shook his head and finally stalked toward me. “No. I mean, yeah, a ton of shit’s wrong, obviously. But not between you and me.”
Breathless, I waited for him to continue, hoping he’d confess to more.
