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“Oz.”
“I’m cold,” he said too quickly. “You need to share the blanket.”
She stayed stiff and unyielding for all of five seconds before she gave in to the warmth of his body and the need to be held, comforted, and tucked her forehead into his neck.
She cuddled up against his broad chest and took shallow breaths in an attempt to stem the sobs threatening to erupt because of the show of kindness. “Why are you doing this?”
“Doing what?”
“Being so… nice to me. You should hate me.” She felt his lips against her hair, her forehead.
“Would you rather I be mean?”
“Yes.”
“Really?”
“It’s just a lot to process. Along with everything else.”
“I guess if it helps you—pretend I’m Ted.”
She tilted her head back on his upper arm. “Never.”
“I don’t have that pretty-boy look, huh?”
“Stop.” She lifted her fingers to his face, his chin, and the light stubble. “You know how handsome you are.”
She shifted against him, her eyes growing heavy as his warmth and the blanket left her feeling cozy. Her exhaustion kicked in, and she struggled to remember why letting Oz hold her was a bad idea.
Oz’s heartbeat pounded soothingly beneath her ear, and she found herself matching the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. “Oz?”
“Mmm?”
“Don’t take my cooperation as encouragement,” she mumbled around a stifled yawn.
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
“I am sorry, you know,” she whispered, giving up the effort it took to keep her eyes open. “I hate that I hurt you.”
“You weren’t ready. It would’ve hurt worse to have found out after the fact and ended up fighting because of it.”
It was true. She’d grown up a lot in New York. Having never been on her own or lived away from home, she’d faced a lot of realities her spoiled self hadn’t faced until that point.
Oz gently tightened his hold, and with the squeeze, more of her tension faded.
She knew she ought to protest his holding her. Get up, go to bed. Alone. Ted would be angry if he saw them like this and for good reason.
But the thought of moving and the effort involved were too much for her exhausted body to consider, and she sank a bit deeper into Oz’s warmth.
Ted couldn’t be angry when he should’ve been there. Should’ve been the one holding her, comforting her, supporting her. The fact that he wasn’t left her asking herself if she was really okay with his decisions. Not only to fly back to New York but… others.
Was she letting fear and stress cloud her feelings for him? Maybe. But what about their future? The upsets and problems to come? Would she face them alone as well?
The man holding her pressed his lips to her hair, and she forced her lashes up, her head back.
“Thank you,” she murmured.
“For what?”
