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Before I can finish that sentence, Ashton pushes her way in. "We're having a sleepover. I call big spoon."
The guys slip by me with a nod hello. Grant stops in front of me and searches my eyes. When I smile weakly, he pulls me into him and hugs me tight. I feel like crying again, but don't have any more tears left. I bury my face in his chest and hug him back.
"I'm--"
"Don't say it," he tells me before I can apologize. His voice is firm like there's no room for argument. So I squeeze him tighter.
"Um, you might want to close the door before we get busted," Lance says, jumping up and landing in a sprawled position on the couch.
Grant closes the door.
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"How did you guys get up here?" I ask, then look to Grant. "Especially you?"
"I just never left," he explains. "Lily drove us, so I told her to go without me. And..." He hesitates.
"We're sworn to secrecy," Lance explains.
I search for Brendan and he winks.
"Another one of your secret passages?"
"Wait. You know about them?" Lance asks, sounding insulted once again that he was left out.
"Long story," I say. "But you guys don't have to--"
"Shut it," Brendan growls. "We're here. We're staying. Get in bed so we can all cuddle."
"Wait. Uh." Grant leans in and whispers. "Is there somewhere private we can talk a second?"
I motion toward the door to the bathroom that I share with the room next to mine. Which is currently empty.
"We don't want to hear you having sex!" Ashton hollers.
Grant's eyes widen.
"He doesn't find toilets seductive," I reply with a cheeky grin. "I already tried that."
Grant laughs, recalling the day he walked in on me drying off boob sweat in the ninth hole shack's bathroom.
The guys don't get it, so they just eye me like I'm crazy. Ashton laughs because of course she knows. Except now that I re-examine their faces, Brendan's looking at Grant like he's crazy. I shake my head at him and follow Grant into the bathroom.
The first thing he does is turn on the light.
"Is this okay?" he asks, scanning the small bathroom that houses a shower and toilet.
"Yeah," I assure him with an appreciative smile. "Just keep the light on."
"I'm deathly afraid of spiders, just so you know. Your claustrophobia has nothing on my reaction to finding one of those things on me."
He evokes a laugh, which I know is what he was trying to do. To help me feel better about my panic attack in the library.
I love this guy. Dammit. Stupid Squirrel and his magical brownies.
Grant's eyes narrow, looking down at my hand. Then they widen in alarm. He gently cradles my right hand and examines it. It's red, swollen, and scraped raw. "Can you bend your fingers?"
"Not right now. It's throbbing and feels like it's on fire, but I don't think it's broken." I don't tell him that I've fractured my hand before ... and my wrist--which forced me to learn how to throw a punch properly.
