Page 75 of The Beast's Heart

“No,” he answers without looking at me. “We would have, when this room was done. I didn’t live here with him. And he didn’t get to decorating this wing.”

I move further into the space, hugging Adam’s coat tightly around myself.

He glances back at me. “You don’t— you don’t have to sleep here. I just want to keep an eye on you. In case you have a concussion.”

“I want to sleep here,” I say, flushing slightly at how the words sound.

Adam doesn’t seem to notice. He pulls the covers aside and I shrug off his coat and climb into his bed. I close my eyes, hoping it’s not too obvious how I breathe in his scent as I rest my cheek on his pillow. Adam tugs off his boots and climbs in beside me. Then he wraps his arms around me.

My stomach swoops and a fresh shot of adrenaline courses through me.

“This okay?” He asks. “It gets pretty cold in here.”

It’s so much more than okay. My heart performs a wild dance behind my ribs. I hum my ascent as I tuck my head against his chest. So warm. So comfortable. Except… except there’s something digging into my hip. I reach down and pull it out from under the covers. A small book that I instantly recognize. In Memoriam A.H.H.

“Oh. Yeah.” Adam takes it from me, sets it down somewhere on his other side, but not before I can see the bookmark. He’s about half way through the slim volume.

“You’re reading it.”

“Yeah… I’ll admit some of it goes over my head.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s okay. It’s good. Relatable. Even when I don’t understand exactly what he’s saying.”

I look up at the high ceiling of this lonely room. “Dark house, by which once more I stand, here in the long unlovely street,” I recite. My speech is already sleep-slurred. “Doors where my heart was, used to beat so quickly. Waiting for a hand. A hand that can be clasp'd no more…”

Adam’s arms tighten around me. “Yeah.”

I let the waves of exhaustion drag me into a deep sleep. It feels like only an instant later that I wake to Adam stroking my cheek.

“Hey, wake up.”

I blink sleepily. “Do you want me to go?’

“No. No, I’m checking on you.” Just a whisper, as if trying not to wake me too much. “How are you feeling? Any numbness? Nausea?”

I shake my head and stretch out, taking stock. “A little stiff.” I’m sore where my body made contact with the ground, which feels like everywhere. But that’s to be expected. “How long was I out?”

“About three hours.”

That can’t be right. I make to sit. “I should go, check on the children.”

“They’re fine. Rest.”

I let my head drop onto his shoulder and shut my eyes again.

“Hey, wake up.”

This time Adam isn’t in bed with me. He has a tray of food—toast with marmalade, tea, a few slices of cheese. Lunch. Did he make it himself? He checks how I’m feeling again and sits beside me while I eat.

“What’s the time?” I ask.

“A little after three.”

It’s both later and earlier than I expect. I feel like I lived a lifetime in the space of the morning.

“I never asked why you were looking for me earlier,” Adam says.

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