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“Han Solo had a scar. I bet you like him.”
She rolled her eyes. “I like you better. And yeah, I’m sure your scar will be badass and sexy, okay?”
I chuckled. “Fuck you, Han. My girl likes me better.”
She kept playing with my hair, which did absolutely nothing to calm my dick down, but I didn’t want her to stop. I needed her touching me.
“Tell me what happened.” Her tone was filled with a plea for honesty.
My gaze locked on hers, the pain in those beautiful irises breaking my heart a little. “Honestly, it’s a blur. We were running, trying to work off some tension.”
“We?”
“Me, Chad, Derek. They’re going to be my betas. When I take over.”
“And?”
“We can’t shift, but we still need to run. So we hit the woods. I should’ve smelled the brimstone, but I didn’t. Fuckers came out of nowhere.”
“Fuckers? There were more than one of them?”
“Two... I think.” I lifted a hand to my head with a groan. “That’s really all I remember. My brain feels like scrambled eggs. Mmm... eggs.”
“I can see about getting you something to eat,” she offered.
“No. I don’t want you to go anywhere.”
“I’ll come right back.”
“What if I fall asleep? I want you to be the last thing I see before I close my eyes. The first thing when I wake up. Always.”
Her smile was so beautiful it lit up the whole room. “Then rest. I’ll stay here and keep watch.”
She was running her fingers through my hair again, making it impossible for me to keep my eyes open. “I don’t want to sleep. I want you.”
“You need to rest.”
“Need to come.”
“Later. If you’re good.”
“Party pooper.”
“That’s me. No fun Sunday.”
“Oh, you’re my favorite day of the week. That’s why we say twice on Sunday. Cause we like you.”
She let out a soft laugh. “You’re not even making sense now. Go to sleep.”
“Will you be here? Will you stay?”
“I promise.”
“Sunshine.” I couldn’t remember what I wanted to tell her. “Now I know what that song means.”
“Which song?”
“That happy one. My Sunshine.”
The title was wrong, but my head didn’t want to work. She knew what I meant. She had to. But just in case, I started humming the melody, off-key and lazy. I’d always look to her when the sky turned gray. Always.
“And you call yourself a singer,” she teased, but tears were rolling down her cheeks.
“I’ll sing for you. Wrote you a song.” I tried to say more, but I wasn’t entirely sure I’d even said that much because I finally lost the battle to keep my eyes open.
I drifted to sleep with her touch on my skin and her scent wrapping me like a blanket. It was the only thing I wanted. Thank God I had my Sunshine to keep me warm.
