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“This place is nice. There’s only one bed, though,” Ansel announces, coming out of the bedroom and putting his backpack on the floor.
Stifling a yawn, I rub my eyes. “I’m too tired to care. Let’s get some sleep. I promise I won’t paw you.”
“Thanks for being concerned for my welfare, Meadows,” he chuckles, opening the fridge to see if it’s stocked.
I send Sage a text that we’ve arrived at the flat he booked and we’re going to bed. I don’t bother to see if he replies. I start rifling through my bag for clean pajamas only to realize I never packed any. I have underwear and regular clothes. That’s it.
“Oh my God,” I groan in pure frustration. “I forgot pajamas.”
“I’ve got you covered.” This time he’s the one trying not to yawn. He grabs his backpack and pulls out an oversized t-shirt, tossing it at me. I barely catch it. “That should cover all the important parts.”
The shirt smells like him and whatever was once printed on it is faded. “Thanks.”
“Go shower. I’ll make us a snack.”
Grabbing clean underwear I don’t protest, shutting myself in the bathroom to shower. I feel cruddy after spending the last nearly twenty-four hours traveling. Our flight from New York to London ended up delayed, which was a real pain in the ass.
The warm water cascades over my body, loosening my tired muscles. I didn’t tell Ansel, but I doubt I have the energy to eat a snack.
Scrubbing my scalp with shampoo I watch the swirls disappear down the drain. I’m already starting to feel better even if I’m in desperate need of sleep.
Conditioning my hair, I let it sit on the strands to detangle the mess it knotted itself into when I napped on the flight.
Once I’m squeaky clean I get out and dry off, changing into clean underwear and the shirt Ansel gave me. It comes down over my ass, but barely. It’ll do though.
Exiting the bathroom, steam billows out with my departure. Ansel looks over from the tiny kitchen, finishing a sandwich. “My turn.” He rubs his hands together. “Eat, Meadows. I know you have to be starving.” He points to the other half of a sandwich sitting on a glass plate with little blue flowers on the border.
The bathroom door clicks shut behind him. I eye the sandwich, not hungry after all the travel but knowing I need to eat. Sitting on the little stool, I bite into the sandwich, expecting my stomach to protest at the introduction of food after hours of travel, but I end up devouring it until there are nothing but crumbs left.
I rinse the plate and grab a drink from the fridge. Twisting the cap off a water bottle, the bathroom door opens and Ansel steps out. The scent of his soap fills the air, something woodsy the reminds me of the outdoors. It’s the complete opposite of Lachlan’s fresh scent.
Ansel yawns, pointing to the couch. “I’ll sleep out here. You get the bed.”
“I’m fine with the couch,” I protest. “I’m shorter than you.”
He gives me a pointed look. “I’m being chivalrous here. Take the bed, Meadows.”
I sigh, knowing I’m never going to get anywhere with him. “Fine, but only because I’m too tired to argue.”
After we find him a pillow and blankets, he gets fixed on the small couch and I take the bedroom. There’s no air, and it’s stifling so I turn on the window unit to hopefully cool down the space, leaving the door open so Ansel might benefit as well.
Climbing beneath the covers, they’re scratchy against my skin. I toss them off, since it’s hot anyway.
Curling my hands beneath my head, I pray the jetlag will bring sleep quickly. Thankfully, it does, but it’s short-lived. It’s not long before I wake with cries, my limbs flailing from the dream.
Ansel comes barreling into the room, his hair mussed from sleep, eyes tired. He runs to my side, grabbing onto my arms and then my chin, forcing me to look at him.
“You’re okay. Hey, hey, you’re okay. I’ve got you.” My body stops twisting and turning and I focus on him, evening my breaths. “It was a dream.”
I cling to him like a lifeline.
The dream was worse than usual. Before Lachlan left it had gotten so days, even weeks, would pass without it, but it’s been happening more often, and this was the worst one yet. It was so real, the dream clinging to my mind, forcing me to relive those harrowing moments.
“I want it to go away,” I whisper into the skin of his neck.
“Is it about what happened to you?”
I nod.
