Page 17 of Code Word
He was sound asleep by page three.
I watched him for a minute or two, his sleeping face, the dark circles under his eyes, his eyelids, his eyelashes, the way his lips parted. He looked peaceful, at least, and if he needed me to read him this stupid book so he could sleep, then I’d do exactly that.
I had to wonder what was going on inside his head. What troubles he couldn’t tell me.
And I tried to think back to when something changed. When did things start to change?
I knew the answer. I didn’t really want to admit it, but I knew...
Becca.
When I began dating his sister.
When I began spending time with her. He’d said he was okay with it, but in hindsight, he’d only said that because it was what we wanted to hear.
The truth was: things between Bec and me weren’t great.
The week away with her had brought that to light. Would ending things with her make this issue with Luke better or worse? Would things go back to how they were?
I wasn’t sure we could.
With a heavy sigh, I slid the book onto the bedside table, shuffled down the bed, and pulled my pillow under my head.
Luke stirred, mumbling something that sounded a lot like my name, and then moved over and slid his arm over my chest.
Damn.
We’d shared a bed a thousand times, and he’d always been a cuddler. So I pulled him in closer, reached over, and turned the lamp off. The room cast into a peaceful darkness, and I’d be lying if I said the body warmth wasn’t nice.
I pulled the covers up around his shoulders and he snuggled in closer, his head now in the crook of my arm, muttering in his sleep. Then he threw his leg over mine and I tightened my arm around him. This was us. This was who we’d always been. We’d always been touchy-feely with each other. Physical touch between us was normal. Hell, it was even comforting for me. I loved it when he sat on me or slung his arm around my shoulder. He made me feel a kind of peace I couldn’t explain.
He felt like home.
I sighed into his hair, and closed my eyes.
I woke up alone.
FIVE
I wished nowthat Maddox and Roscoe weren’t coming. I wished we were already back in LA, but above all that, I wished I knew what the hell I’d done wrong.
I dunno what the fuck had changed between last night and waking up, but when I fell asleep, he was out cold with his head on my chest. When I woke up, he was gone.
He’d thrown some logs on the fire and started the coffee machine, but he was... well, I didn’t know where he was.
I pulled on my coat and boots and only made it as far as the porch steps when I heard his keyboard coming from the barn. He was working on something new. From the way he’d play and then stop, I knew he was writing notes in his book.
He must have woken up with a new song in his head, inspired or something. It didn’t sound like a particularly happy song, but inspiration and productivity were a good thing.
Him writing music again was a good thing.
So I went back into my cabin, made two coffees, and took them both back into the barn. “Hey,” I said, putting his cup beside him.
He gave me one of those painful smiles for half a second before he looked away. “Oh. Hey. Uh, thanks. For the coffee.”
“Been out here long?”
“Uh, a while,” he replied, ignoring his coffee. Ignoring me. He played more of the song he was working on as if I wasn’t even there.
