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And if he says no, I’m going to shrivel into a ball and close up my bakery and move back in to Sam’s and bake only for school bake sales.
Baking witness protection.
I’ll need a new name.
As I’m contemplating how I feel about Ashley, he sighs.
My blood freezes.
“Just sleeping?” he asks. I nod, my whole body anticipating his answer. “Okay.” And then he moves, walking around to the other side of the bed and getting in before leaning over and flicking off the one bedside light illuminating the room.
And now it’s dark.
So fucking dark.
And we’re lying there next to each other.
The darkness fills my throat with panic.
It creeps into my lungs, clouding my brain with the lack of oxygen.
In the dark, my mind can move, remember, bring back that fear—
A hand touches my hip.
Ben.
Ben’s hand.
The panic backs away from my body, like that slight touch is a repellant.
Then another hand grabs my other hip, turning me, pulling me.
Pulling me until he’s holding me,
Until I’m wrapped in strong arms, his old tee the only thing keeping warm flesh from warm flesh.
If there were light, I’d be looking in his eyes.
I know because his nose brushes mine, his breath mingling with my own. We lie like this for what feels like forever, breathing and exhaling and breathing again, in our own bubble.
I still can’t sleep.
It’s no longer thoughts and fears and nightmares keeping me awake. No, it’s something more sinister. Sinister to my heart and to my mental health.
“You tired?” he asks, voice gravelly and loud in the silent room.
“No,” I whisper.
I was, but now I’m not.
In fact, every molecule of my body is awake at this moment.
“Me neither,” he replies, but that’s it. More silence, more breathing.
I shift.
He’s closer now, breaths touching lips.
