Page 11 of Demitri

“Unfortunately. No salacious diaries or naked photos in the bedside table. I’m really disappointed.”

“You didn’t look hard enough.”

“You weren’t going to be gone long enough for me to test the floorboards.”

“What’re you reading?”

“Obsession.” I hold up the book for her to see.

“Ahh, that’s a good one.” She winks at me and sits straight up on the couch. “Well, come on Beluga Boy, let’s go to bed. You have to be up in the morning, and this wasn’t a scheduled evening.”

I jolt at her words. And completely glitch. Bed? Like, a bedroom? Upstairs?

She looks at me, her forehead crinkling in confusion. “You alright?”

“To bed? I figured…” I trail off. She sighs and closes her eyes. Not in an irritated way, but in a lost the war kind of way. Her shoulders drop, her fingers fidget with the edge of her shirt. I stand, moving until I’m standing just outside her personal bubble. “Mia,” I say quietly. “I can sleep on the couch. You offering to let me stay the night is more than I thought you’d do, so the couch is fine, okay?”

Without opening her eyes, she raises her head. “I don’t want you to sleep on the couch, Dem.”

“What do you want, Mia?” I inch closer.

“I want you to tell me what happened tonight, but I can’t stay vertical while you do. So, you’re going to go upstairs with me and we are going to slip into bed and you’re going to tell me a nighttime story.”

“I’ll come back downstairs when I’m finished if that would make you feel better?” I offer.

“It wouldn’t matter,” she mutters to herself.

“What wouldn’t?”

“If I scream, you’ll hear it no matter where you are.”

The statement is like a gut punch. Nightmares. The woman has nightmares and is afraid of screaming in the middle of the night.

“My only question is what do I do if you start throwing punches?”

Her lips quirk up on one side. She’s trying to hide her smile but failing miserably.

“Guess it’s a good thing I don’t do that, isn’t it?”

“Yet to be determined.”

“So you coming or not?” she asks, opening her eyes and finally looking at me. I don’t know what I see in them, but I’m not capable of saying no.

“Lead the way,Krasotka.”

Without another word, Mia turns and walks to the stairs, not pausing before ascending them to the master bedroom at the top. I follow silently, grabbing my overnight bag from beside the couch. She points to the hallway bathroom before turning into her room. I guess that’s my sign to stop there first. I hear the water in her en suite turn on through the wall and take my time changing into a pair of flannel pajama bottoms and a clean t-shirt. The thing with Mia is to always prepare, but never assume. If something happened between me leaving the bar and her getting home, her anxiety would have been triggered. But then she would have come through the door ready to swing at someone. I have no expectation, but I brush my teeth and put some fresh deodorant on before leaving the bathroom.

Mia is already sitting up in bed when I hit the door. She’s wearing one of my old t-shirts and has her hair piled high on her head, all of her makeup washed off and those fucking glasses on her face. She’s beautiful. She also has a no bullshit look on her face. No sex. Got it.

“Do you have a side?” she asks as I walk into the room. “Of the bed?”

“Not particularly. The middle?” I smile, going to the empty side.

“Ready to talk about it?”

“No. But I don’t know that I’ll ever really be ready to talk about it.”

“But you will? With me?”

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