Page 14 of Dead Drift

But her focus quickly shifted from the furnishings to the fact that there was one bed and—she spun back around to be certain—no sofa. She rubbed her arms. “Um . . . sleeping arrangements?” She gestured to the bed.

He grabbed a pillow off the bed. “No worries. I’ll take the floor.”

She glanced at the worn gray carpet. “Please don’t.”

He arched a brow, and she grimaced. “The floor is beyond scary.”

“I’ll take the extra blanket out of the closet and fashion a makeshift sleeping bag.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’ll be fine. I don’t—”

“Sleep much. I know.”

“Go ahead.” He gestured to the bed. “Get some sleep. I’ve got you.”

She’d heard that before—mere days before he’d left.

Climbing into bed, she swiped at the tears beginning to fall and shifted her gaze to the phone. “I’d better call Tanner and Declan and let them know I’m okay,” she said.

“You think they’ve already heard about the explosion?”

“I’m sure they heard police dispatched to the marina, and Declan’s place isn’t far away.”

He skimmed a hand across his forehead. “I guess I forgot about keeping others in the loop.”

“Yeah, you did.”

That wounded him. She could read the pain on his pinched brow. She just kept darting jabs his way.

Why?

Because she wanted him to hurt as she did?

No. She wouldn’t ever wish that on another.

Because he deserved it?

Perhaps, but she wanted to believe she was better than that.

It was simply because the hurt inside of her was screaming so loudly, she feared if she didn’t lash out in anger, she’d fall right back into his arms. And that couldn’t happen. She wouldn’t let it. She was stronger than that, had been for so many years, but something had shifted the moment she saw him standing before her. All of a sudden she was that college girl hopelessly in love with a college boy who’d promised her the world.

“The bedcovers aren’t the warmest. Let me get you a sweatshirt, and I’ll crank up the heater,” he said, after standing awkwardly still while her thoughts ran wild.

He grabbed the sweatshirt, and though the room wasn’t horrible temperature-wise, he insisted on making it as comfortable as he could.

She slipped on his sweatshirt, its scent of Old Spice reminding her of being in his arms so many times. Shaking off the memories clamoring to be remembered, she picked up the phone and called Tanner, assuring both her and Declan that she was fine.

Hanging up, she turned to find Luke standing over a makeshift bed on the floor. She couldn’t seriously allow him to sleep on that ratty flooring. “You can’t sleep on that.”

“I’ve slept on far worse.” He reached for the light switch.

She bit her lip, leery about falling back asleep after waking up the way she had. A man pouncing on her bed—even if it was Luke—a bomb decimating her home, and nearly everything she owned gone in a single blast. She longed for a night of company and old reruns to soothe her soul, just like they’d done back in college, but dare she go there? Dare she let down her guard enough to enjoy a few hours’ reprieve with Luke? Could she enjoy simply being in his presence after so many years apart? “Would you leave the lights on for a bit? I’m not quite ready to go to sleep.”

He looked poised to argue but apparently thought better of it. “Sure.” He gestured to the bathroom. “Would you like to use it before I go in?”

“Nope.” She shook her head. “Go ahead.”