Page 136

I swallowed hard. “Yeah. It was.”

She sighed, her voice soft, already slipping back into sleep. “We should do it again.”

I turned my head slightly, even though she probably couldn’t see me. “Go out drinking and watch you make bad decisions?”

A sleepy little laugh. “Shut up.”

I smiled, staring up at the ceiling.

As much as I knew I shouldn’t… I kind of wanted that something to happen again.

Rose didn’t say anything else after that, just let out a slow, content breath.

I, on the other hand, was wide awake.

Maybe it was the exhaustion. Maybe it was the slight buzz still lingering in my system. Or maybe it was the way Rose had looked tonight—like she was finally letting herself enjoy Wippowa instead of just surviving it.

That did something to me.

RUMOR

The morning sunlight streamed through the windows, forcing my eyes open with a sluggish blink. My head throbbed faintly as I took in my surroundings.

The crib. The rocking chair. The pastel-colored wallpaper.

I was in the baby’s nursery.

How in the world?

I frowned, pushing myself up onto my elbows. The last thing I remembered was crashing on the couch downstairs.

A shift beside me made me freeze. Slowly, I turned my head. Wells was sprawled out next to me, dead asleep.

I inhaled sharply and yanked the blanket up, glancing down at myself. Fully clothed. Nothing out of place.

I sat up carefully, my head still fuzzy from last night. Wells didn’t stir. He was flat on his stomach, one arm slung over the edge of the air mattress, his face turned toward me. His hair was a mess, and his breathing was slow and even.

I had no business noticing how good he looked first thing in the morning.

I rubbed my temples, trying to piece together how I got here. The last thing I clearly remembered was curling up on the couch. Blythe handing me water. Charlie making some smart-ass comment.

And now, somehow, I was upstairs.

A thought struck me. Please tell me he didn’t carry me up here.

Wells shifted again, sighing in his sleep, and before I could think better of it, I nudged him.

Nothing.

I poked his shoulder harder. “Hey. Wells.”

A groggy grunt. Then, very slowly, he blinked one eye open, squinting at me.

“Morning, Sunshine,” he rasped. His voice was deep and sleep-rough, and I ignored the way it sent a shiver down my spine.

“How did I get up here?” I asked, cutting straight to the point.

He rolled onto his back, scrubbing a hand over his face. “You fell asleep. I carried you up.”