Page 94 of Trust

I stroke her head until her pulse evens out, until her arms find their way around me. Her eyes are glassy when I lift her face. She looks so fragile I have to fight the urge to wrap her up and keep the world away.

I thought I’d send her upstairs to Stix’s bed. That was the plan, the fair thing, but the second she broke... I need her here with me. He’ll understand.

I guide her to the couch, curl her against me, and cover us with a blanket. Her head rests in the crook of my neck. My grip stays firm, convinced that letting go would send the moment slipping through my fingers. I hold her hand, tracing circles with my thumb, until she drifts into sleep.

◆◆◆

Sara’s curled into me, her cheek warm against my chest, her breath deep and slow. One arm is tucked somewhere under the blanket, the other draped over my ribs, loose and relaxed. I haven’t moved for the last hour. I don’t want to. Her weight against me is grounding. Soothing in a way I didn’t know I needed until I had it. Ash and faint light linger, shadows slipping across the walls.

I’m not relaxed. I’m stiff and uncomfortable and absolutely not thinking about how good she’d feel against me in a bed. Not thinking about how what happened between us made my head spin and my heart ache in ways I don’t have a category for. Heat simmers under my skin and never quite burns off.

A slight creak interrupts my trance, followed by the low groan of a step upstairs. A few seconds later, Stix appears. He stops, raises a brow, then sighs. “Jesus,” he mutters, dragging a hand down his face. “Again?”

I give him a warning look, which he ignores. He crosses the room and leans on the back of the armchair, peering down at Sara. His voice lowers. “She’s completely out.”

“Yeah.”

He gestures to me. “You, on the other hand, appear to be dying.”

“Not dying,” I mutter. “Enduring.”

Stix rolls his eyes. “Come on. Get her upstairs. Take the damn bed.”

“No.”

He blinks. “No?”

“I can’t.” I shift slightly, trying not to wake her. “If I take her to bed, I won’t be able to stop myself.”

He gives me the flattest look ever. “You’ve had your hands on her all night and haven't slipped up once.”

I shoot him a glare. “Why are you enforcing this? I told you what’s gonna happen when I let go.”

“I’m not doing this for you. I’m doing it for her.”

I recognize my own words, once used to get her out of that shed. Still unsure what he means, I give him an expectant look.

“The way she looks at you, the way her face brightens when you come over? She needs you just as much as she needs me. Different reasons, same pull. We’ve always been a team like that. You ignite a spark in her. It’s obvious she wants you. Not only for the thrill, she isn’t that shallow, but for whatever it is you give her that I don’t. I want her to have that before she goes home.”

“You’re still planning on letting her go? After I made last night happen?”

He huffs. “We have an agreement. We decide after the election. Now carry her up there, or I will.”

I glance down at her again. She shifts in her sleep, nestling closer, a sigh escaping her lips. My heart flips. That’s it. I’m toast.

Without a word, I ease the blanket back, then slide one arm under her legs and the other behind her back. An incomprehensible murmur slips past her lips as she nestles her head against my chest. I carry her upstairs, open the bedroom door with my elbow, and nudge it closed behind us. Then I set her down on the bed as carefully as I can. She stirs but doesn’t wake. With a sleepy sigh, she rolls onto her side and hugs her pillow.

I sit on the edge of the bed and watch her, entirely certain that this won’t end just because she walks out of the cabin.

Eventually, I strip down to my boxers and lie down beside her. She turns toward me without waking, her arm landing across me as if it’s always known where to go, and I let myself melt into her warmth.

DANGEROUS GROUND

Sara

Nestled in comfort, I wake to the gentle rise and fall of his chest under me.

Wait—what? I’m not fully awake, but I know I’m safe. My thoughts drift slowly, blurred at the edges, as if I’m swimming up from somewhere deep under the surface. I blink against the pale light filtering through the curtains. Morning, definitely.