Page 97 of Whispers and Wildfire

“We said six.”

“Sorry, I didn’t get much sleep last night. I didn’t mean to take a nap. I was only going to rest my eyes for a few minutes. Wait, how did you get in?”

“The door was unlocked.”

Her eyes widened. “What? Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

“No, it wasn’t. I never leave it unlocked.” Sounding oddly panicked, she went over to the door and locked the deadbolt. “When did I unlock it? Must have been when I took the trash out. But I always lock it when I come in.”

“It was the middle of the day. It’s fine.”

“But you walked right in.” The pitch of her voice started to rise, and the words tumbled out of her mouth. “The door was open, and anyone could have come in. There you are, sitting on the couch because I left it unlocked and I don’t know how I did that.”

I stood and walked over to her, full of concern. “Why are you so upset?”

She was practically in tears. “I’m not.”

“Yes, you are.” I reached out and took her by the upper arms, gently so I didn’t startle her. “Mel, it’s okay. Nothing bad happened. You’re safe.”

She covered her face and collapsed against my chest. I winced a little, but ignored the pain and wrapped my arms around her. She shook with sobs as I held her tight. I wasn’tsure what else to do. Melanie was not a crier, so seeing her reduced to tears was unsettling.

“It’s okay,” I murmured, rubbing slow circles across her back. “I’ve got you.”

She felt dangerously good in my arms. Soft and familiar. Her lightly vanilla scent enveloped me, and I let my eyes close as I breathed her in.

After several long moments, she stopped crying. Her body stilled, and with her face still buried in my chest, she took a few deep breaths.

“Sorry.” She moved back, and I reluctantly let her go. “I’m fine.”

“Obviously, you’re not. What’s going on?”

Wiping her eyes, she shook her head. “Nothing.”

“Mel, don’t do that.”

She stepped away, turning toward the kitchen. “I’m not doing anything.”

“Yes, you are. Just tell me.”

“There’s nothing to tell. I’m sleep deprived.” Her voice was returning to normal, and she waved me off as she opened the fridge. “You know how weird I get when I don’t sleep.”

Something was not adding up. “Why couldn’t you sleep?”

She stood in front of the fridge, her back to me. “I don’t know.”

“Liar.”

“I’m not lying.”

“Yes, you are.” I couldn’t keep the frustration out of my voice as I followed her into the kitchen. “Why won’t you just tell me what’s wrong?”

“I did. I’m tired.”

“You’re not just tired. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

---