Page 70 of Protect Home
I gather the dresses and assemble them onto the scattered hangers. Waiting until the sound of the shower running filters through the house, I break her number one rule and invite myself into her room to hang them back up.
It may not be much, but I want to help however I can. I might just sneak into her bed and hold her while I’m at it.
However makes Tenley feel even the slightest bit more comfortable and seen.
She deserves to feel seen.
25
TENLEY
The drive to my appointment is silent.
I know August is weary of saying the wrong thing around me, but the truth is, he said all the right things last night. And I think my confused, pregnant brain is having a hard time distinguishing a compliment from an insult.
I’ve never known him to insult me. He never has.
But I’m feeling all these…feelings…and having a difficult time controlling how my mind reacts to them. It’s a weird thing as someone who usually doesn’t give a single care to what anyone thinks.
Especially August Graves.
Lately, though, I’m finding myself caring more about what August thinks and less about anyone else.
How twisted and deranged is that?
I’m insecure with my body when I know the markings along my stomach and the growth of my curves are the result of creating something far more beautiful than I’ll ever fully comprehend.
But it’s hard. It’s hard to find clothes that make me feelas sexy as I did before. I know this is temporary—I know that. But right now, the temporary sucks.
After my bitch fit last night, I moped in my room for longer than necessary before getting into the shower and planning to sleep off my mood. It wasn’t until I entered my closet to grab some pajamas that I noticed all of my dresses from downstairs were hung neatly, along with my entire laundry basket from the floor folded and stacked in a pile.
Nothing was in the right place, and I love that more than everything being perfect. What surprised me the most was the strong arms finding my waist not long after I fell asleep, causing all my defenses to crumble. I won’t tell him I heard the softest of whispers come from his lips, telling me he refuses to sleep anywhere else but with me in his arms moving forward.
I won’t argue. I think I’d prefer him near, actually.
August thought of me, and I can’t quite articulate what that means to me. Even something as simple as laundry proves his kindness by leaps and bounds.
Hecaresfor me,and I feel the barriers of my heart beginning to break.
“Thank you for making dinner last night. It was really good,” I tell him, amidst the quiet of the car.
August glances my way from the driver’s seat and sends me a small smile. “It’s no problem at all. Glad you liked it.”
I hate this. I hate the tension—it’s not the good kind. August doesn’t seem to be upset with me, but I want him to crack jokes and slip his hand up my dress.
Call me corny names after I insult him.
Somethingthat tells me he’s okay.
“I liked you in my bed.” Not sure what made me blurt out that bold truth, but it’s in the open now.
No take backs, Tenley.
His head swings in my direction faster than I’d consider normal. “Did you?” he asks, smirk at large. “Good thing because I liked it too.”
All I can do is nod. “I’m sorry about last night. You walked in at the height of my meltdown. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you, and I’m sorry for that.” Not sure if my apology will buy us a clean slate, but I’m goin’ for it.
“I don’t think I heard you clearly. Mind saying that a little louder?” His response should bother me, but with us, it’s how we gauge each other. It’s how we dictate where we stand and thank the good lords above that we’re okay.
