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“I’m not uncomfortable.” Tom looked up, his face inscrutable. “I mean it. You can get in.”
I swayed from drowsiness. Tom was right. It had been a long, hard day and I already was emotionally drained.
“You done?” he asked, glancing at my half-finished mug.
“Yeah.” I handed it over and settled into the sleeping bags.
Tom added more logs in the fireplace, stoking the fire. The waves of heat felt heavenly.
He turned off the torch, slipping it under his pillow, took off his boots and then settled into our joined sleeping bags.
We both lay as far apart from the other as possible, staring up at the ceiling. Which only left a hair’s breadth of room between us.
The dogs snuffled, curling up into each other in front of the fire on their blanket. I was lying here jealous of muster dogs.
I made a noise, and Tom jerked his head toward me. “Are you okay?”
“Other than having a brush with death and losing my stuff and stealing your bed?”
There was a second of silence and we both snorted with a laugh.
“You’ve had a day, that’s for sure,” Tom murmured.
He shifted, so that he faced me, and took my hand. “No more jokes, though. Is there anything I can do to help?”
Tom’s gaze bore into mine, holding my hand, the heat of his body, the weight of him on my side, the look on his face. Earnest, fierce, wanting to make things right.
“Rosie, if there’s anything at all I can do, I’ll do it.”
The guy next door who’d cracked open my bruised heart with an offer to help.
Memories of his passionate rage and despair confronting Amanda, how she separated us, betrayed us, bubbled to the surface of my addled mind. Time to face the music.
“I spoke to Amanda last night.”
Tom stiffened.
“We can’t keep ignoring what happened yesterday.”
“No.” Tom’s eyes searched my face. “That’s why you didn’t swap with Pete.”
“Well, I wasn’t about to let anyone else place the cameras.” A smile ghosted across Tom’s lips. “Thought we’d have privacy to talk on this overnight trip. But didn’t count on being your sleeping bag buddy.”
Tom’s mouth twitched.
No talk of sharing beds.
“If you want to talk, that is.”
“Yeah, sure. It’s fine.”
Tom’s voice was strained. He was feeling the awkwardness of this just as much as me.
The last time we’d laid down like this was just before our falling out, sneaking into his room to kiss, and then … more.
“Amanda’s distraught,” I blurted, finding the first thing to say that wasn’t about lying so close to this man.
“Is she?” Tom snorted. “Great.”
