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I pause, taking a moment to really look at him, his massive frame making my queen-size bed look like a single. This mysterious broody man, my next-door neighbor, finally feels like someone I could really get to know.
I just hope that tonight doesn’t change him, doesn’t make him take two steps back to make up for this one tiny step forward.
I close the door. I grab extra blankets from the linen closet, then go to sleep on the couch.
Thirteen
I wake up with a start.
Something rattled me awake, put my hair on end, even before I figure out where I am. What is it? What’s happening?
It’s dark, almost black save for the power light on the TV. I’m on the couch, tangled in the fleece blanket, and there’s something going on.
There it is. A choked cry.
But it’s not my mother.
I get to my feet, stumbling across the dark living room, running my shin right into the cedar coffee table. I wince, seeing stars for a moment (that’s gonna leave a bruise!), and then I open the door to my bedroom, rushing inside.
My eyes have adjusted. Harrison is on his back on top of the covers, his head moving back and forth, mouth open. Another doomed cry comes from his lips as his face contracts in anguish.
“Hey,” I whisper. “Hey, hey, you’re okay.”
I put my hands on his shoulder, barely touching him, not wanting to scare him. When he doesn’t seem to wake, I shake him a little harder.
“Harrison. Harrison Cole. Wake up. You’re having a nightmare.”
His head stops moving, and his eyes slowly open, his breath labored. He blinks into nothing for a moment and then looks at me, visibly shaken.
“What . . . Where, where am I?” he gasps.
I keep pressure on his shoulder, hoping it’s more soothing than restrictive. Not that I could restrain him. I can feel the power and muscle beneath my hand.
“You’re okay, it’s me, Piper. You’re in my bed. You were having a nightmare.”
In the dim light I see his shining eyes finally focus on me. He takes in a deep gulp of air, his body relaxing slightly under my touch.
“Piper,” he manages to say, licking his lips. If the situation weren’t so worrisome and dire, I’d be more distracted than I already am by the fact that he’s licking those lips and he’s lying in my bed.
“It’s me,” I tell him, giving his shoulder a squeeze. “You fell asleep on my bed.”
He blinks a few times at me and then seems to remember what happened.
“Fuck,” he swears, his voice still thick with sleep. “That was unreal.”
I sit on the edge of the bed. “What were you dreaming about? Do you remember?”
“Yeah,” he says, nodding, his eyes still looking a little wild. He swallows. “Yeah. It’s always the same.”
He seems in such a wild, fragile state that I don’t want to press him too much.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
He shakes his head and sits up. His eyes pinch together, wincing. “No.”
“Here,” I tell him, fetching the water and pills from the bedside.
He shakes his head again, brushes the glass and pills away. “I’m okay. I need to go back. They’re probably worried.”
“It’s the middle of the night. They’re probably asleep. Just stay and sleep for a bit. You can go back in the morning.”
But he’s already getting out of bed. He’s unsteady on his feet, and I leap up to press my hand against his chest in case he topples over again.
Here we are. In the dark. In my bedroom.
I’m pressed right up against him. His chest feels as hard as a rock beneath my fingers. He’s staring down at me, his breath raspy. I keep my focus on his chest because I’m afraid to meet his eyes.
“I need to go back,” he says, his voice low and rough, and at such close proximity it sends shivers down my spine. “But thank you.”
I dare to look up at him. In the dim light his eyes are fixed on mine, the line between his brows deepening.
Our faces are so close. If I stood on my toes, I could kiss him.
I won’t.
But for the first time, I’m consumed by how much I want to.
It was easier to ignore before. It’s impossible to ignore now.
Is it the same for him?
Does he feel this? The tension that crackles like a live wire, the pull that I feel toward him like a planet orbiting the sun.
“Thank you for what?” I whisper.
He swallows.
“Taking care of me.” His eyes search mine, glittering in intensity, seeming to wrestle with something. “It’s been a very long time since I’ve had that,” he murmurs.
Then he reaches out and brushes a strand of my hair back, tucking it behind my ear. Keeps his palm pressed against my cheek.
His face dips down an inch, and I suck in a sharp breath as his gaze drops to my open mouth.
