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I curl my body close to his and rub his cool, damp skin. Chills spread underneath my hand. He gives no other clue he knows I’m here.
I remember something from my own dark time. When I dissociated once at Helga’s office…
I tap him on the arm—a steady tap, tap, tap—and with my right hand, the arm I’m lying on, I reach out and touch his chest. I tap both places.
“Barrett—it’s Gwenna.”
I scoot closer still, and stop my left hand’s tapping, wrapping my arm a little more tightly around him, trying to hold him to me. He’s still coiled in pain, still shaking.
“Barrett…baby.” I press my lips against his throat and run my hand up from his back into his hair. The curls are sweaty. Everywhere our skin touches, I feel his chills. I spread my fingers through his damp curls, stroking softly.
“Hey…you’re safe. I’ve got you.” To my own ears, I sound scared and stupid.
He drags in a deep breath, and his shoulders twitch. I shift positions just a little, so the pillow in front of his face is right under my neck. Then I wrap my hand around his head and pull him up against my chest.
“I’ve got you. I’m not letting go.” I hold him and I whisper and I stroke him and it hurts. To see someone so strong and capable— To see anyone in so much pain…
I feel the pillow pulled away and feel him bow his head. I want to look down at him, check on him. Instead I kiss his hair, offering him privacy. A second later, his face presses against my chest. His face is hot and wet, his breaths warm and still fast. My heart aches as I smooth his curls.
Jesus, if he does this every night…
Breath quivers through his chest and throat, ragged breaths like aftershocks.
When I finally glance down, I see his eyelids cracked, but can’t tell where he’s looking.
“You awake?” I whisper.
“I don’t know.” The words are raspy, almost whimpered.
I hold him tighter.
“Sorry,” he says roughly.
“No, sweetheart.”
He starts to shake a little harder.
I lift my arm from his back. “Just a second. Let me get…”
I pull the duvet up over his shoulders, leaning up so I can tuck it around his back and underneath his side. I pull it over him, and over me, and then behind my own back, where I tuck it so it’s tight around us both.
Then I wrap an arm around his waist. He bows his head a little, his hair tickling my throat and chin. I feel him swallow.
“You’re okay…”
I snuggle closer to him.
God, he’s warm. And still. I can feel him breathing, but that’s all. Then I feel him raise his arm. His hand touches my shoulder: just a brief caress.
Then he lifts the duvet off him, turns away from me, and gets down off the bed. I see his gorgeous body glisten in the dim light as he walks into the bathroom. He doesn’t shut the door, just cracks it, so I hear the faucet running, followed by a slurping sound that makes me think he’s drinking.
A minute later, he comes out and walks over to the bed. He stops beside it, looking at me for a long moment. His blue eyes are tired but clear.
“That’s why,” he whispers.
“Why what?”
He shakes his head. “I fell asleep with you but…” He shakes his head again, purses his lips, and lifts his fingers to his forehead.
