Page 38 of Trust Again

“Hi,” I said. My tongue was sticking to the roof of my mouth and the word came out in slow motion.

Spencer looked back over his shoulder. “How much did you give her?”

“I recommended the same dose I always take.”

“She took three,” I heard Isaac say.

“Three? Are you insane?” Spencer hissed.

“I never realized she was so small.”

Sawyer entered my field of vision. “Are you all right, Dawn?”

“Everything’s fine…” My tongue disobeyed me. My words were slow and I seemed to have acquired a lisp.

“We should take her to a doctor,” Isaac croaked. He was standing next to Sawyer, holding on to the passenger door.

“This stuff is purely herbal. I think she just took too many. She needs to sleep it off,” my roommate replied.

Spencer exhaled abruptly. “I’m holding back the powerful urge to strangle you.”

Sawyer laughed sharply. “Yeah, that’s right. You wanna strangle me. Because I’m the one who’s been treating her like a leper.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he growled.

“Guys, I think…” Isaac tried to interrupt.

The rest was lost to me. I slumped against the headrest and sank into darkness.

My eyelids fluttered. They felt heavy, but I opened them anyway.

I knew this house. The gray walls and the huge couch I curled up on seemed so familiar. I sat up carefully. Everything was spinning.

“How are you feeling?”

I winced and turned to stare at Spencer, who sat next to me bathed in golden light, like some sort of heavenly messenger. He held out a bottle of water. I stared at his outstretched hand. God, his hand. His beautiful, big, strong hand.

“Your hands are absolutely amazing.” I stretched out my fingers and stroked the back of his hand, brushing against his warm skin and enjoying the fierce tingling that ran through me. “You have the most beautiful hands I’ve ever seen in a man. And I’ve seen a lot of hands.”

“I guess that counts as an answer,” he murmured and leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest.

Oh. My eyes devoured his bare forearms. All kinds of thoughts swirled in my head. “Sometimes I wish I could be your Chelsea,” I said softly. “You’d be a fabulous Jasper. In fact, I pictured you while writing that shower scene.”

Spencer’s lips twitched. “I only understand half of that, but okay.”

“Maybe I should’ve let you show me your bathroom. I can’t think of anything else since then except you in the shower. But I can’t be your Chelsea,” I said firmly and shook my head.

“You’re sweet,” he replied. His lips formed a beautiful grin.

How could a face have such sharp lines and look so soft at the same time? I’d never met such a beautiful man before. The world had never seemed clearer to me. The key to the meaning of life seemed to be so obvious.

Lifting my hand, I touched his mouth. Spencer’s grin faded. He clasped my hand and took it from his face. Then he pulled forward and I tumbled against him, my cheek against his chest.

“How about we take a little nap?” He raised a hand and stroked my hair, then slid his fingers down to the back of my neck.

Immediately I relaxed, nestling my face closer to his heart, throwing one arm across his belly and twisting one leg together with his. He laughed softly and goose bumps prickled up my arms.

“I’m sorry, Spence,” I mumbled into his chest.

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