Page 37 of Paging Dr. Hart
Fear wins.
“I can’t.” My voice is gravelly, a whisper trailing off as I turn to go.
Ethan’s next words stop me in my tracks. They sound a lot like begging. “Please, Tiffy. Please. I’msotired. We need to sleep.”
Okay. Fine.
But I won’t like it.
With great reluctance, I walk over to the inflatable mattress. Ethan scoots over far to the left side so I can claim my spot on the right. I lay down, and with a wide sweep of his arms Ethan throws the blanket up into the air. It falls, opening like a parachute to settle over both of us.
Turning my back to him, I shrink into myself, timid now that we’re here together. Ethan moves a little closer, and I tense, but he doesn’t touch me. His breath is warm on the back of my neck as he sighs out a sleepy, “Sweet dreams, Tiffy.”
I predict that it will take me a long time to fall asleep with him next to me, but it doesn’t. Within minutes, my eyes flutter shut, and I slide into a deep, dreamless slumber.
Free of monsters.
30
Ethan’s muscled shoulder pillows my head when I wake. Scared to move, I freeze and try not to let all of my weight fall onto him, but still I’m pressed up against his chest. We must have moved into this position sometime during the night. Like our sleeping bodies couldn’t bear to be apart.
Slowly, coming fully awake, my senses kick in. I smell the clean, soapy scent of his skin so close to my face. There’s the gentle whoosh of his breath above me. In my sleep, I’ve kicked one leg over him, wrapping my foot around to hook under his calf.
Just as my muscles start to twitch from holding still, Ethan stirs. He wiggles and stretches himself awake. After yawning, his voice floats down to me. “Hey, Tiffy. You up?”
I nod silently, embarrassed to be caught with him this way, with our bodies all tangled together.
A vibration under my ear signals a chuckle. “How’d you sleep? No one put a pea under this mattress, I hope?”
He’s so relaxed and nonchalant. Like this happens every day. Two co-workers cuddled together on an air mattress in some random apartment in Cleveland. It isn’t something I’ve ever done before. The few short-term flings I’ve had over the years didn’t involve much cuddling. Just free dinners and unsatisfactory sex.
Ethan’s waiting for my answer, so I set aside my embarrassment. “Honestly? I slept great.” It’s the truth. Most mornings I wake up with a fatigue-induced headache because I sleep so badly, but this morning the pain is miraculously gone. I feel truly rested for once.
“See?” His voice rises a notch, ringing with pride. “What did I tell you? Air mattress to the rescue.”
I pull away to sit up. “Don’t get too big of a head over it. It’s not like you solved world hunger.”
“Oh, itisa big deal,” he boasts with a wide, cocky grin. “I got Dr. Tiffany Hart to sleep peacefully through the night. I’m expecting the Nobel Peace Prize committee to call me at any moment.”
Ethan’s lean muscled arms cross behind his head, propping it up so he can see me better. His hair sticks up at odd angles, mussed from sleep. A dark stubble has grown along his jaw overnight. Gold flecks glitter in his amber eyes.
He’s devastatingly handsome.
The open way he grins up at me sparks something wild in my heart. Maybe he feels it too because that grin slides into a softer smile, more tender and intimate. The world slows down. There’s a stillness shimmering between us. A tension that wasn’t there a minute before. My body is hollow, filled only with longing. My foolish heart skips a beat, then, to make up for it, pounds twice as hard.
Ethan’s full lips part. The soft exhale of his breath caresses my face, as his eyes dilate and fix on mine. I’m leaning toward him, a flower orienting to the sun. Inches away, I freeze. We stay like that, in suspended animation, for a long, long minute. Staring into each other’s eyes.
Then I flee.
Unnerved by his beauty and the feelings brewing inside me, I quickly crawl out of bed onto the cold floor. I need to get away from him before I do something stupid. “Gonna go brush my teeth,” I mumble and run.
In the bathroom, the mirror reveals my overly bright eyes and disheveled hair. “Get a grip,” I whisper fiercely to my reflection, not recognizing the woman who stares back.
31
Ethan’s already up and out of his bedroom by the time I come back from the bathroom. A fact I’m thankful for. Now that I’m fully awake, reality hits like a sucker punch. My body flushes, remembering everything that happened. I can’t believe I went to him like that. It was my choice, to crawl into bed with him. My own weakness. For years, I’ve prided myself on not needing anyone. Letting Ethan see me vulnerable last night, letting him help, makes me feel foolish and defenseless.
Even worse, it was the best night of sleep I’ve had in months, maybe years. And the thing this morning—that moment when my lips were inches from his—I don’t even want to think about that.
