Page 82 of Trust

A subtle change stirs deep within, along with a strange sense that we weren’t the only ones in that moment.

◆◆◆

The bathroom holds a muted kind of peace, lit only by the glow of a dim wall sconce. I close the door and lean against it. I can still feel Cash’s touch. His mouth is etched in my memory along with the storm in his eyes threatening to swallow me whole. Am I actually ready for this? I cross to the sink and brace my palms against it. The mirror throws back a dazed, undone version of me, showing flushed cheeks, swollen lips, and eyes I don’t quite recognize.

The tingling in my skin refuses to ebb, and neither will the confusion in my chest. Somewhere in the fog of it there’s that thought again. What if Chris had been there too? How would it feel when...

The idea knocks the air from my lungs and makes my insides blaze. I’ve never had to choose whose bed to sleep in.

Time passes. I brush my teeth until they can’t get any cleaner, until I can’t delay deciding any longer.

Chris’s room feels charged, or maybe I’m imagining it, but any courage I had drains away the second I enter. I sneak past his bed toward my room. As I reach for the door, his husky voice stops me. “Where do you think you’re going?”

I freeze, then turn. He’s propped up on one elbow, watching me, a question in his expression. “Um... I wasn’t sure if I should come to your bed,” I murmur, “or go to my room.”

He sits up straighter, gaze locked on mine. “Sara, you don’t have to guess with me. I don’t play games. I don’t do maybe. I will never leave you wondering.” He extends his hand, palm up. “Stay with me?” His voice doesn’t push or coax or command. He makes the choice I couldn’t and lets me decide whether to follow. I’m grateful he doesn’t ask about Cash or try to fix what mess I am.

I place my hand in his. He pulls me into the bed, into him, where I belong, where I’m safe.

We stay awake for quite a while, me wide-eyed in the dark, my mind spinning. Him, calm and reassuring beside me, his hand slowly trailing up and down my arm.

I don’t know what to make of this or what I’m doing. I only know I’m leaving soon. Time is running out, and I want to make the most of what’s left.

Eventually, exhaustion drags me under. The last thing I know is his warmth pressing against my spine, anchoring me to him as I let go and fall asleep in his arms.

FRICTION

Chris

Iwake with the weight of her draped over me and it’s perfect.

They looked good together last night. The only thing missing on that couch was me.

The training session was hard to endure for all of us, but she recovered fast. Cash handled the situation well. I can’t remember the last time he was this involved, if ever.

She trusts us more each day, whether she realizes it or not. The way she’s sprawled across me now, her body already does. Her head rests on my chest, an arm slung over my shoulder, one leg tangled with mine. It looks like she claimed me in her sleep without meaning to.

This is her, unfiltered and stripped of every defense. She’s simply here, with me. I tell myself it’s comfort, yet my pulse gives me away. If she keeps choosing this spot, pressed against me, I’ll stop pretending I don’t want more. Parts of me already have.

She shifts with a sleepy murmur, and I know I have to move before I won’t be able to. Carefully, I peel her off me, limb by precious limb.

I tug the blanket higher over her shoulder and watch her face. She frowns but doesn’t wake.

My mind’s already working. If she wants to stay, I’ll make it work. The logistics flicker behind my eyes like an op plan: new identities, a border crossing, a new start. My records will still be a problem, a complex one. Cash was right about one thing: we solved it once. We can do it again. I bet he’s already scheming.

I’d burn my entire world to ashes if it meant building a new one where she’d be happy. But it has to come from her. I won’t cage her, even if every part of me wants to keep her here.

I throw on clothes and head downstairs. Cash is in the kitchen. Barefoot, sleeves shoved up, filling a mug as if he owns the place. I don’t say a word until I’m next to him.

“Morning,” I mutter, stealing his coffee right out of his hand.

He snorts. “Morning. Sleep okay?”

I sip. “Define okay.”

Cash smirks. “She was all over you when I passed by earlier. You two looked... cozy.” His eyebrow lifts.

My lips twitch. “Stalker.”