Page 22 of Speechless

“Hello—can you guys hear me?” I wave my hands at them but get no reaction.

“It’s okay Jack, you made the right decision. She’s disappointed us both. You’ll choose better next time, don’t worry.” My mom is stroking his back like he’s her kid. I feel sick.

“Mom! Mom, why are you doing this?”

I’m drowning in the ocean, seaweed tangled around my legs, saltwater burning in my lungs . . .

I wake abruptly,and I try to shake off the nightmare.

I feel something warm and hard moving up and down underneath my arm and my eyes flash open.

Henry.

Why is Henry lying here? And why am I wrapped around him like a koala?

I shut my eyes and try to remember. I must have dozed off while he was still playing, so why is he here and not in his bed? Or I guess this is his bed, and I’m the one out of place. I haven’t moved a muscle, and if I’m being honest, I want to linger here as long as I can. His body feels so good against mine. What is it about a muscly man in a cotton T-shirt? His scent washes over me, masculine and sweet, maybe sandalwood?

I could lie like this for hours.

But I’m alsoterrifiedof him waking up to find me snuggled up to him. He’s snoring lightly so I try to move my arm and leg off of him as quietly and slowly as possible. I cannot wake him up. I’m inching backward, I’ll just slide off the bed, crawl up the stairs, and he’ll never know I just used him as a human body pillow.

“Owww!”

Fuck. Did I seriously just bang my head against his mini fridge? I reach for the back of my head, knowing a large bump will be forming soon.

“Hey. Are you okay?”

Dammit, he’s definitely awake now. At least I was already detached from his torso.

“Sorry. I was trying to sneak out before I woke you up. And clearly misjudged how far away the fridge was.”

“It’s okay, I’m a light sleeper.” He’s sitting up and looking near me but his eyes are darting around. “I hope I didn’t frighten you. You . . . erm, fell asleep while I was playing last night, and I decided to work for a while. I sleep here a lot. I, err, must have crashed without realizing you were still here.”

I notice his hair is mussed from sleep and can’t help but admire how sexy he looks. Wait, did he just say he didn’t know I was there?

“I better go check on Row.” I bolt upstairs as fast as my legs will take me.

I’m mortified.

Luckily, I find Rowan in the kitchen and quickly bring him to my room to snuggle with me in bed. My body is vibrating with so many emotions—mostly embarrassment, but something else I’m not sure I’m ready to admit. I try not to think about it. It was obviously a weird, cuddly mistake that we will not be making again.

I know waking up next to Henry didn’t mean anything—he made that perfectly clear—but my body feels differently. I’ve always craved connection. I love being held, belonging to someone else in a physical way. That may have been the hardest part of the divorce. I always feel cold now, detached, like I’m missing a limb or something.

I close my eyes and hold on to Row, but I can't stop picturing Henry’s chest rising and falling underneath me.

10

Henry

I didn’t meanto do it. Well, I don’t think I meant to. At least, not at first. I just . . . couldn’t seem to walk away.

I could hear Lucy crying while I was playing for her. It really shouldn’t have surprised me considering she inspired the song. She wasn’t exactly in high spirits the night we met. But when I finished and turned around, seeing her asleep, wet streaks still visible on her cheeks, it just felt wrong to leave her there alone. I meant to lie down for just a moment, then ease her awake and help her upstairs. But once I was lying next to her, once I could feel the heat of our bodies mingling together, I just kept telling myselfone more minute.

She was clearly freaked out this morning when she woke, and I can’t exactly blame her. I just hope I haven’t lost the little bit of trust we forged on our flight together. I feel so desperate to talk to her again, to just have a conversation, get to know her better. It felt so easy on the plane; maybe because we were trapped together, no distractions. I want to be alone with her again, and yet, even thinking those words terrifies me.

I grab my phone to call Mum. It’s still early enough in England to speak with her. She’s the only person on the planet who will understand my current predicament. Well, there’s Graham, but I really don’t want to hear what sort of advice he’d come up with right now.

“Henry! How’s my star doing tonight?”

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