Page 91 of Trust

He chuckles warmly. “Don’t go shy on me, Sara. Nothing to be embarrassed about. If you’re sore, say so. Communication, remember?”

He looks infuriatingly calm, like asking a girl that after sex is the most natural thing in the world. Maybe it is. I don’t know. I’m lacking experience in that department.

“I’m fine,” I say. “A little... yeah. But not bad. I’m thirsty, though.”

“I’ll grab you something,” he offers.

“No, I’ll go. I’ve been asleep too long already.” What a sorry excuse to go downstairs.

“Exhausted, huh?”

There’s that smirk again.

I open my mouth to scold him, but he throws up his hands in apology.

“I’m sorry. I’ll stop,” he laughs, getting comfortable on the bed as I get up.

The house is still except for the creak of wood and the faint hiss of the fire glowing in the living room. There he is. Cash is asleep on the couch, one arm draped over his inked chest, the other hanging loosely off the side. His head is tilted slightly, lips parted enough to dull the slyness he usually wears. He looks... different this way, and I can’t help being drawn to him.

I stand there for a moment longer, watching him. I let the image settle into memory before crossing the room, hoping my steps won’t disturb him. At the kitchen door, I glance back one last time. He hasn’t moved, and I hate how much I wish he would.

The moonlight provides all the illumination I need without flipping on a switch. I fill a glass with water and lean against the counter, gazing out the window into the forest’s darkness.

The door opens. I turn as Cash enters, one hand at his neck, working the kinks out. My heart’s thudding faster already.

“Well, look who can’t sleep either,” he beams the second he spots me.

“I was thirsty,” I say, holding up my glass like evidence, as though I need to justify being here.

“Were you?” There’s a teasing note in his voice.

I roll my eyes, guessing he can’t tell.

He approaches me slowly, each step charging the air between us. “Or you wanted to see me.” The mischievous glint in his blue eyes cuts through the dim light.

He leans his hip against the counter, mirroring my posture. “Did you miss me?”

I ignore the question but hold his gaze. “I... I wanted to check if you were mad.”

“Mad?” he repeats, tilting his head, confusion replacing the playfulness. “About you and Stix?”

I shift my weight from one foot to the other. “I mean... I didn’t know if it’d be weird.”

His eyes linger on me for a long beat before he puts me out of my uncertainty.

“Sara, don’t worry, okay? This,” he says, circling a finger between us, “all of this, it’s exactly how it’s supposed to be.”

I look down at my glass, turning it slowly in my hands.

“If you want to hug me, you can.”

There’s that tone again.

I glance back up at him. “That sounds... unexpectedly decent.”

He winks. “Don’t get used to it.”

That lands a spark in my chest. “Is a hug all you want?”