Page 62 of Built to Fall
I turn toward my dresser, pulling the top drawer open and grabbing a t-shirt—one that I keep here for the nights I stay—and when I spin back around to hand it to her, she has completely disposed of the silk robe that was covering her.
Lina’s now sitting on my bed in only a matching set of white lingerie. My jaw unhinges from the sight of her.
“Jesus,” I mutter quietly, “just put this on, would you?”
And in one swift motion, without me being able to do anything about it, Lina rips the small piece of white, lacy fabric over her head in one fell swoop.
“Lina!” My voice wavers, half panic, half disbelief.
She sways a little. “What?” she says, like I’m the one acting strange. Her brows draw together in confusion, and maybe in her mind, this makes perfect sense.
I whip around, turning my back so fast I nearly trip over my own feet. “Jesus Christ,” I mutter again, gripping the edge of my dresser like it might keep me from combusting.
Behind me, there’s a rustle of fabric and then her voice, quieter now. “Sorry,” she says, and for the first time all night, she sounds small. “I wasn’t—I didn’t mean to make it weird.”
“It’s not weird,” I say quickly, eyes squeezed shut. “You’re drunk. And I’m… trying not to be a complete asshole.”
Another long beat passes in silence. Then, softly: “I didn’t think you’d care.”
My jaw tightens. “I care, Lina.”
She’s quiet again. I hear the soft tug of cotton, the fabric of the t-shirt brushing against skin. I exhale slowly and chance a glance over my shoulder. She’s pulled the shirt on—thank God—and has her knees tucked to her chest, hair messy, looking about as far from seductive as someone can while still completely undoing me.
“Maybe I should go,” I say, pointing toward the door and slowly stepping back.
“No!” She straightens quickly.
“Lina—”
“I’m not trying to mess with you,” she says, her voice heavy with something I can’t name. “I don’t want to be alone tonight.”
My cheeks puff with the long breath I let out, falling to her will. “Okay.”
Lina’s eyes well again, and it makes me take two quick steps forward.
“I don’t want to be alone,” she repeats, almost methodically.
I sense this may be one of the reasons she hasn’t been sleeping. And if there’s something I can do to help her get a little rest, I’ll do it. Easily.
“You’re not,” I say, softer now. “You’re not alone.”
She nods, slow and tired, and I make my way back over. I pull the blanket up and over her, tugging it gently to her shoulders. She’s already curling into my pillow, eyes fluttering shut.
I hesitate for a second, then sit back down beside her, this time with my back pressed to the headboard. Her breathing starts to even out, the rise and fall of her chest slowing as the weight of everything finally pulls her under.
I stay awake.
Because while nothing happens, it feels as though everything changes. No matter how wrecked she is, no matter how badly I want to pull her into me and keep her safe—tonight isn’t about that.
Tonight, I just stay.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
LINA
It’s been a few days since the Halloween party, and I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t woken up in Grant Vandenberg’s bed feeling absolutely mortified.
I left his house after being stirred awake by the sound of his bedroom door creaking open and the view of Savannah Sinclair peeking her head past the doorframe. With Grant still sound asleep next to me, I knew I had to get the hell out of there.
