She takes up the corner a few feet away. “I want you to sleep in the bed. Really. If you sleep on the floor, I might start crying again, and we’ve both done enough of that for one night.”
He made her cry. He knows that already, but now he’s imagining it all over again. “Shouldn’t have to sleep in the chair.”
“It’s comfortable. Fluffy.”
He sighs. “Please, just let me do this for you.”
“How about we compromise? There’s another mattress in the spare room. It’s a twin. I can drag it in here. Is that okay? Then we both get a bed.”
‘Just sleep here with me.’He longs to say. ‘Curl up close like you used to in my head so I can fall asleep to the sound of your heartbeat.’
“Okay.” Is what he says instead, rewarded by a soft smile before she leaves to fetch her sleeping arrangements.
Two minutes feels like twenty until she’s back again, settling the mattress close enough he can hear her. It would be a decent plan if he weren’t so conflicted that he’s driving himself even more insane than he already is.
The last rays of evening light stream in, caressing her hair like a halo as she occupies her new bed, facing him but very pointedly not staring.
He has nightmares most nights. Always did, but they’ve gotten worse now, more violent and often ending in bruises after thrashing against the cell wall. What if he hurts her in his sleep? What if he forgets she’s real and assumes her a hallucination again?
“You have to take me back to the last place,” he blurts out, instantly regretting it when hurt flashes across her face.
“Why? I don’t understand.”
“It’s not safe for you to be alone with me.”
“I’m not afraid of you.”
“You should be. I hurt you once, and I’ll do it again.”
Kara’s frown sets in deeper. “You stopped yourself. You could have hurt me, but you didn’t.”
That’s not the kind of logic he can entertain when he’s too busy trying to shove her away for her own good. He would give her up all over again if it meant keeping her safe, but should have known she’d fight him on it. “If something happens—”
“It won’t. What happened here was my fault. I pushed you. It was my mistake, not yours, and I won’t make it again.”
That sounds too much like what she might have said to their foster father all those years ago, claiming responsibility for his behavior when it was never her fault. Wade is no better than every shit human they’ve come across. Maybe even worse, since simply touching him is a mistake that almost cost her a busted lip.
If he can’t handle this from the only person he trusts, then what are they even doing here?
He’s quiet for a long moment, unsure of how to make her see that she’s sleeping in a cage with someone crazed, and his hair-trigger is still as sensitive as ever.
“Where do youwantto be?” she asks, so sweetly that he can’t help but answer with the truth.
“Here. With you.”
“Then be with me.”
“You’re so fucking stubborn,” he sighs, almost fondly.
“So I’ve been told.” She plays with an old hair tie around her wrist that he recognizes from so many years ago. It was the only item she had to her name before she was shuffled into the system as an orphan. She kept it all this time. Used to tell him it had to have some luck left in it.
“It’s not a good idea.”
“Give me two weeks,” she says quickly, as if he’s about to make an unstoppable u-turn. “If you still want to go back to Paradise Falls by then, if you still think it’s not safe, then we’ll go.”
“Anything could happen in two weeks.” He could hurt her, kill her, or fail to leave this bed the entire time.
“If you can’t trust yourself, then trust me to know what’s safe and what’s not.”
