Page 58 of Arrogant Puck

“Water?” I offer, needing a moment to collect myself.

“Sure,” she says, snuggling deeper into my pillow. My side of the bed. The view of her on my bed makes my breath catch.

I walk out to the kitchen and fill a glass with ice water, taking longer than necessary. Her presence in this house makes me feel less lonely, and that realization stops me cold. When did I start thinking of myself as lonely rather than alone? When did I start needing someone else’s energy to feel something?

When I walk back to the bedroom, her eyes are closed. I place the water on the nightstand and stand there for a moment, just watching her. Her breathing has evened out, her face relaxed in sleep.

Yeah, she’s fast asleep in my bed, in my room, in my sanctuary.

And for the first time in years, the silence doesn’t feel empty.

Chapter 21

I wake up in a haze, my head pounding like someone’s using it as a drum. The silk sheets are tangled around my legs, and when I reach across the bed, I’m alone. The space beside me is cold, like no one’s been there all night.

I spot the water glass on the nightstand and grab it gratefully, chugging every drop. It helps, but barely. My mouth still tastes like regret and whatever fruity cocktails Emma was buying me all night.

The house is eerily quiet, and when I check my phone, I realize why—it’s cold at this hour because it’s the middle of the night. But I’m curious about what time it actually is, and more importantly, where Slater is if he’s not in bed with me.

I wander through the house, my bare feet silent on the hardwood floors. He’s not in the sex room—God, I still can’t believe that’s a thing—and he’s not in the guestroom jerking off. God, what amemory. I finally find him in the living room, sprawled on the couch.

He’s leaning back with his face turned toward the ceiling, and I can’t tell if he’s awake or just staring into space.

“Hey,” he says without moving.

I jump, clutching my chest. “You’re awake?”

“Can’t sleep.”

Guilt crashes over me immediately. “Shit.” I rub my eyes, still trying to shake off the fog. “I’m sorry. You can have your bed back.”

He turns to look at me then, and there’s something vulnerable in his expression that catches me off guard. “I would never do anything to make you uncomfortable again, Sage. I promise.”

I search his face, looking for the lie, the manipulation, the threat. But all I see is sincerity, and it throws me completely off balance. “Okay.”

“Do you need anything?”

My head throbs in response. “Medicine?”

He gets up immediately, moving to what I assume is a kitchen cabinet. When he comes back with a bottle of ibuprofen, I notice something else sitting on the counter.

“What’s this?” I point to the prescription bottle.

“Antidepressants. Here.” He hands me the ibuprofen like it’s no big deal.

I take two pills and wash them down with the remaining water in my glass. “I presume you don’t take those.”

“No, it dulls me out. I lose my edge on the ice. It’s not good.”

I nod, understanding more than he probably realizes. “Hey, so I can leave.”

Slater reaches for me instinctively, then pulls his hand back like he’s remembered something important. “If you want to go, I can take you home.”

“No, I can call a ride.”

“You’re living with me now, remember?”

I sip my water, trying to process this whole situation. “I can’t live with you.”

---