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Madelyn
Irolledslowly,awarethat it felt like my brain was sloshing inside my skull. What on earth had possessed me to challenge Adam to a shots stand-off? I hadn’t done shots like that in twenty years.
My vision was blurry, my eyeballs aching, and as I struggled to sit up I realized there was a dark shape filling the chair across the room. I squeaked in alarm when it shifted, made a soft noise, and I realized it was Adam.
Adam Beckman was in my room and I was pretty sure I wasn’t dreaming.
“Adam?” My voice was scratchy and his head raised slowly, his eyes blinking open.
“How are you feeling?” His voice was deep and sleepy and suddenly I wondered why he was all the way across the room in a chair and not curled up in my bed with me. Then I cringed, because I knew the answer: I’d been shitfaced when he brought me home, a completely teary mess, and he was a gentleman.
“Not great,” I croaked, and he rose slowly, the chair creaking. He was across the room in a few steps, leaning over me to rest his palm on my forehead and brush the hair off my face. I looked down to realize I was in soft pajamas and I had no recollection of changing, which made my face flare with heat.
“Did you change me?” I asked softly, and he fumbled with something that had been on my nightstand.
“Here.” His voice was still rough as he dropped two pain pills into my hand, then passed me a glass of water.
Oh, so he wasn’t going to answer the question.
“If you’re ok, I’ll go now.”
What time was it? I squinted at the hazy red letters on the alarm clock: 4:07.
“You sure?” I asked, suddenly, wanting nothing more than to pull him in with me. I’d had a few delightful dreams of being his little spoon and the idea was even more attractive now that I was awake.
“I’m not worried anymore that you’ll aspirate,” he said gently. “Steve’s gonna shit a brick when he realizes I was here until four in the morning. I imagine he’ll have a few things to say about that later, possibly with his fists.”
I could feel his grimace rather than see it and made a note to myself to run some interference with my brother, who was still stupidly protective all these years later. I knew it was because he felt he was making up for something.
Adam leaned down, his fingers sliding up into my hair as he cradled the back of my head, and he pressed a gentle kiss to my forehead. “Get some sleep, Madelyn. I’ll check in with you later.”
No idea why I did it, but I grabbed his hand just as he stepped back, pulling him closer again and I wrapped my arms around his waist, pressing my cheek to his stomach and immediately his arms came up around my shoulders, his hands cradling my head, holding me to him.
A sudden vision, flashes of what I’d done before, things I’d said, came rushing back to me.Holy shit, he thinks I’m a head case.
Adam, holding me in the parking lot of Sammy’s as I fell apart.
Big arms scooping under me to carry me up the steps and into the house while I sniffled into his shoulder.
Gentle hands helping me into pajamas in a darkened room, a soft voice in my ear as blankets were pulled up around me.
I pushed quickly to my feet, my stomach lurching a little as I did it, dislodging his arms so that they fell to my hips as I wrapped mine around his wide back. I squeezed hard and tight, tucking my face right into his neck, my new safe place, whether or not he knew it or even agreed.
He heaved a deep breath and relaxed into me for a moment. It was something soft and easy, and before I knew it we were rocking gently from side to side.
“I’m sorry someone hurt you,” he whispered right next to my ear. “I wish I’d been there; I would never have let anything happen to you.”
I knew that to be true, but he couldn’t have been there because he was in Afghanistan when it happened. No one knew about it except Steve and Kennedy, and only because something had slipped out. I hadn’t even told my parents, but it was what made me drop out of college and jump right into the Air Force. I had to get away, and I had to make sure I never let it happen again.
“You need to give me a name,” he muttered into my hair and I could feel a hot rage starting to boil in him. He’d put together the pieces without me laying them out.
“It’s done,” I whispered back. “I received a settlement years ago. It’s been sitting in my account ever since.”
“Settlement’s not enough,” he growled. “I want to know who hurt you.”
I shook my head slowly, my hair scraping against his shirt. There was no way I was going to disclose that, because it wouldn’t end well.
“I’m fine.” I pushed back finally, unwillingly, brushing my hair back from my face, thankful he couldn’t see the tears standing on my cheeks in the darkness of the room. I didn’t cry, as a rule. Not ever. Certainly not in front of other people.
