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Instead, he swerved slowly back around, looking apologetic and defeated. “I can’t go,” he confessed, his red-rimmed eyes lost and tormented. “I’m just going to hold you, okay? You need some comfort. So, just…pretend I’m someone else. All right?”
But she didn’t want anyone else. She only wanted him. “All right.”
When he caught her shoulders and nudged her gently against his chest, she closed her eyes and sank home. Solid and real, he closed his arms around her and tucked his face close to her hers, kissing her hair. “You’re going to be okay.”
She breathed in the scent of his hoodie, and listened to the steady thud of his heart through his chest. It was delicious and warm and just what she needed. He felt so different from the bulkier Dorian Wade, and that difference mattered.
Logan was safe.
Yet his steady, supporting, sheltering presence made a dam burst inside her, splintering apart all the emotions she’d been holding back since her last sob fest.
She cried some more.
Each teardrop fell for a different reason. A few dozen for the night’s events. A handful more for the loss of her brother. She even shed tears for her mother and her father. For Kayla. She cried for Logan and all the misery he’d been through since making a horrible mistake three years ago. But mostly she cried for their lost relationship.
Logan held her through it all, a silent fount of protective support. When she lifted her face from his shoulder, she felt drained.
“I want to lie down,” she slurred.
He nodded instantly. “Okay.”
He shifted them to the bed until he was easing her down. When he tried to step back so she was lying by herself, she tightened her hold on him. “No. Please. Stay.”
Again, he nodded. As he hesitantly stretched out on the narrow mattress beside her, she curled close. Trusting him implicitly, she relished the feel of the blankets at her side and his warmth at her cheek.
She nestled close. “I didn’t think I’d ever feel warm again. I was so cold.”
He rubbed her arm, warming her even more. When she used his shoulder as a pillow, he kissed her hair.
“Rest,” he murmured gently. His breath on her cheek didn’t feel at all like Dorian’s had because it was warm and scented with Logan’s dragon-defeating spearmint gum.
Smiling with the memory of their morning together at the children’s ward, she closed her eyes and relaxed against him, soothed by his presence. He coaxed her into sleep, stroking her arm through all the layers of clothing separating them.
“Don’t leave,” she mumbled, her brain already fogging into a lovely oblivion.
She woke once in the night to a nightmare. Phantom hands groping her, crawling up her ski
rt, nipping at her neck. Cold air seizing her thighs.
Paige whimpered and flailed. When she struck something solid and fleshy, she slashed toward it again, intent on defending herself.
A grunt and curse followed, and suddenly it was gone. Then something grasped her shoulders. “Paige. Paige, wake up. You’re having a nightmare.”
The dream didn’t let her go easily. Her brain kept dragging her back into the dark torments of hands over her mouth, arms pinning her own immobile. She cried out, afraid.
“Paige!”
She gasped into consciousness and was instantly hugged to a solid, familiar chest. “It’s okay,” he assured her, smoothing back her hair. “Just a dream. You’re okay.”
She gulped and panted as she tried to regain her sanity. Logan disappeared for a second only to reappear and thrust a cup of water into her hand. She drank gratefully.
It cleared her brain until she could think rationally. “Did I hit you?”
He ran his fingers over his hair stubble and shook his head. “Just my arm. I’m fine. Are you better now?”
She nodded and returned the empty cup to him. He straightened and carried it to the sink where he must’ve found it.
All the lights blazed in the room. She soaked up his face, immediately feeling better. She wanted to reach out and smooth her fingers over his buzz cut as she’d just watched him do.
