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She snickered and reached for the last pillow that I’d brought up.
She placed it on the bed, then reached for the comforter.
I helped her get it into place, then wondered where in the hell I was going to sleep tonight.
The couch was too small.
The other bed was in Carrie’s room, and I knew I wouldn’t get a wink of sleep if I slept in there with her. Her CPAP machine was hella loud, and there was no sleeping when that thing was on.
“Are you all set?” I asked as I walked to my closet and took out a pair of sweatpants, underwear, and a well-used t-shirt.
She hummed a “yes,” and I moved to the bathroom. “I’m gonna take a quick shower, then I’ll get out of your hair.”
She blinked in surprise, and it was that look on her face that I closed the bathroom door on.
I would not admit that the next five minutes, I palmed my cock in the shower to thoughts of her.
I also wouldn’t be admitting that when I came, it was with her fucking name on my lips.
Luckily, the shower had a lot of jets and showerheads, as well as my ability to be super quiet when I did business. I’d learned that, for better or worse, in prison. A man had to have some relief, and even if he had to do it with ten other men surrounding him, even if we were facing the fucking wall, well, it had to be done.
There was no such thing as privacy in prison.
As I got out of the shower, my mind lodged into the past.
But not in the normal way. Usually, all I could think about was leaving my family behind. Sara.
But today, all I could think about was the look on Greer’s face when she learned I would be spending the next seven to nine years in prison.
She hadn’t looked shocked. She hadn’t looked horrified. She hadn’t even looked as if it affected her.
But now, replaying the few moments in the courtroom before I was taken back into custody, I could see her.
She was wearing black slacks, a tight navy-blue shirt, and black pumps. Her brown hair had been pulled back into a sleek ponytail about midway up her head, and her eyes had been impossibly brown that day, almost black.
Her hands, though. Her hands had been clenched so tight around her purse strap that, at first, I’d thought that the red I could see on the strap was the coloring of the leather. But now, replaying those few moments when my eyes met hers, when I studied her face and demeanor for her thoughts on the matter, I could tell that red wasn’t from the color of her leather. Her purse had been light brown. That red had been bloodred.
I walked out of the bathroom with my thoughts on her. On why she would be so affected by my sentencing that she’d dig her own nails into her hands in distress.
When I came out, I saw her there in the middle of my bed, a Kindle in her lap, her eyes on the tiny letters across the screen.
She was wearing my shirt, though.
My favorite one.
It wasn’t anything special.
It was a t-shirt with more wears to it than any normal t-shirt, though. It was soft and comforting when I wanted to slip on something that wouldn’t constrict or pull.
“I forgot my pajamas,” she muttered as she flipped the page on her Kindle, still reading. It always amazed me when she did that. Talked and read. “I had to borrow a shirt. And it had to be soft, so it had to be this one. I know it’s your favorite.”
I headed to the door but stopped at the knob as I said, “How?”
She looked up then. “How what?”
“How do you know it’s my favorite?” I asked.
She opened her mouth to answer, but I didn’t need her to. I could read it in her eyes.
I wasn’t invisible to her.
Not at all.
I closed the door behind my retreating back, but one thing was clear to me in that moment in time.
She wasn’t invisible to me, either.
CHAPTER 7
None of your emails are finding me well.
-Greer’s secret thoughts
GREER
I woke up from the best night’s sleep I’d ever had to a shirtless man standing in my bedroom doorway.
Well, not my doorway. His own bedroom doorway.
But still.
I narrowed my eyes.
“What?” I semi-snapped.
“I need to get some shit done today, and you’re in my room,” he pointed out. “I wasn’t trying to get your attention or anything. Just get ready.”
“Oh,” I murmured, letting my eyes fall closed.
It was useless, though.
Once I was awake, I was awake, although I’d rather get up at noon.
Which sucked because usually, that meant I was awake and grouchy if I was woken up early.
Unexplainably, though, I wasn’t all that mad that he’d woken me.
