Headlights sweep over Aspen’s SUV in the driveway as the rumble of Atlas’s truck disappears into the night. It’s just a flash, and I almost miss it, but my gaze snags on Aspen, slumped in the driver’s seat.
I’m there and reaching for the door handle in an instant, my heart hammering as worst-case scenarios flash through my head. But then, a loose brown strand flutters in front of her mouth and she shifts, halting me with my hand inches from her shoulder.
She’s passed out cold.
Relief hits first, then concern.
How long has she been sitting out here?
Neither answer sits right with me. Because only one of two things can be true: she’s been sleeping in her driveway for hours, or the hospital kept her so late she couldn’t make it farther than the driver’s seat before crashing.
Either way, Aspen’s running herself into the ground again.
Deciding to make her my priority for the night, I fold myself into the cramped space between her and the steering wheel.
“Aspen, Angel, I’m going to unbuckle you and bring you inside.”
She turns toward me, sighing softly as I release her from the seat belt.
“Emmett?” she asks, soft and unguarded.
“It’s me. I’ve got you.”
“No. You can’t. Your ribs.
Shit, she’s right.
I’ve been feeling better—tonight proved that much. But I’m still under lifting restrictions, and the last thing Aspen would want is me tearing something because I got stubborn.
Doesn’t stop me from wanting to carry her anyway.
“I can walk. Just—um—give me a second.” She blinks a few times, like she’s trying to clear the fog.
She takes my hand and sways the second her feet hit the ground.
“Sorry. I’m just so freaking tired.”
“I can see that.” Keeping one hand on the small of her back, I shut her door. “Did you at least get a good nap?”
“Hardly.” She snorts. “How you sleep in a camper van year-round I’ll never understand. I need room to spread out.”
“In that case, I recommend moving this slumber party to your bed.”
As soon I breathe life into the words, she stills. I grip the back of my neck. “I just—let’s get you inside. Couch, bed—alone, obviously. I’ll help you there, make sure you’re good and thenpoof, gone.”
Poof,gone?
Who the hell am I?
“Poof, gone,” she repeats, unable to stop her lips from pulling into a sleepy grin. “And I thought I was a mess.”
“Yeah, well, it’s been a weird night—a weird few days, actually.”
I follow Aspen to the porch, taking the keys and unlocking the door for her, and she lets her head fall to my shoulder.
But when the door swings open and I hesitate at the threshold, she lifts an eyebrow.
“So . . . are you coming in, or are we going to keep avoiding each other?”
