“Let me know if there’s anything else,” I tell him, clapping him on the back. “We’re all here to help. Now or later for the cleanup and repairs, man.”
“Appreciate it,” he nods, but his eyes are distant, watching the engine get closer.
Giving him a pat on the shoulder, I head inside, glancing back when Brody doesn’t follow. He stands quietly at Nate’s side. I just hope, for the sake of them both, he stays that way.
Chapter 38
Bryn
Paddingdownthestairsof the main house at four in the morning, an hour and a half after Wyatt drove me home, I wrap the plush gray fleece blanket tighter around myself as I silently make my way towards the living room. There’s a large lump near one end of the oversized tan couch. Sock-covered toes poke out from another fleece blanket, this one blue.
Wyatt refused to leave when we got here, insisting I stay in the house with Gran. He was fully prepared to sleep in his truck in the driveway, but I wasn’t having it. There was no way I was leaving that man outside all night. I got him situated on the couch after he took a quick shower to rinse off the chemicals and smoke, before changing into a pair of blue sweats and a clean fire tee from his truck. Then I went up to bed in one of the spare rooms—something he refused because it was too far from the door.
But I can’t sleep. I’m exhausted, running on fumes, but every little sound I hear in the house, whether it’s familiar or not, has my eyes springing open.
The fire unnerved me. Worse still was seeing my friends rush towards the danger. I know they do it all the time, but witnessing it was different. Especially when none of them had any gear to protect them. Then, standing outside, not knowing what was going on, huddled with the girls while we waited…it was awful.
I can hear his even breathing, but I can’t tell if he’s asleep ortrying to be quiet, feeling someone sneaking around the house. Or maybe I’m as stealthy as I hoped to be.
“Wyatt?” I whisper into the darkness, careful not to bump the coffee table or loveseat.
It’s hardly even a whisper. It’s more of a breath because if he is asleep, I don’t want to wake him.
“Wondered if that was you,” he says, shifting to sit up on his elbow.
So much for stealth.
There’s not much light coming in through the window, but there’s enough that I can see the reflection of his eyes and the blanket pulled up to his chin. I take a few steps farther into the living room, wondering if I look as pathetic as I feel right now. I’m a grown ass woman. The dark should not be scaring me.
“Can’t sleep?” he guesses.
Blowing out a breath that sends a piece of hair in my face flying skywards, I shake my head. “No. I’m tired, but I’m spooked. After what happened at the clinic, and now tonight, I just…”
Wyatt lifts the blanket away from himself and the couch, offering me a place with him. “If you want.”
The hesitation lasts only a millisecond before I’m throwing my blanket over his legs and exposed feet. A shiver runs down my spine at the chill in the air, but it vanishes when I lie down in front of him. It’s like the inside of a furnace as he drops the blanket and his arm over me, engulfing me within a cocoon of warmth.
As I snuggle in, his bottom arm stretched out and beneath my head, his chest at my back, I’m surrounded by the familiar scent of him, and like it’s a drug with the power to knock me on my ass, I relax in a way I haven’t all night. This is the feeling I was looking for when I came downstairs.
The safety. The comfort. The protection.
When his arm over my hip begins to withdraw, I catch it, keeping him wrapped around me. “I like it there.”
His breath rustles the hair just behind my ear. “Didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”
“You’ve never made me feel that way,” I murmur. “There’s a reason I came down here.”
While I can’t see it, I know a smile rests on his face. I can imagine the exact one. Happy. Not full of cheese or excitement, just soft contentment. His hand encompasses mine, and I stretch my fingers out beneath his until they’re interlaced. Our hands rest against my stomach, a pleasant warmth against my skin where my loose t-shirt has ridden up.
“It’s going to be infinitely easier and simultaneously harder to sleep now,” he says quietly.
He shifts his upper body a little, and his next breath flits across my neck. My stomach flutters. I know exactly what he means because I’m utterly aware of every rise and fall of his chest, every twitch of his fingers laced with mine, and the way his toes seem to be tapping to a rhythm only he knows.
Cuddling deeper into the chest behind me, Wyatt grunts softly, then shifts himself. A second later, his forehead touches my shoulder, and a huge breath billows out between us, the tapping of his foot increasing.
“B,” he mutters. “Wrong time, wrong place, not on the table for our friendship, I know. But I’m going to need you to not back that thing up against me too much, okay?”
“Oh.” My eyes fly open, and I bite down hard on my lip, trying not to make any other movement. “Oh! I… shit, I’m not supposed to say ‘oh’ am I?”
