Page 72 of Highball Rush
“I don’t want to be alone.”
I kissed the top of her head. “Don’t worry. I’ve got you.”
With an arm around her, I led her back to my bedroom. She crawled into bed and I slid beneath the covers beside her. Gathered her in my arms so she could rest her head on my chest.
I took slow breaths, feeling her body gradually relax. She stopped shivering. Her arm draped across my rib cage and she tucked her leg over mine, nestling in closer. I traced my thumb over her soft skin and breathed her in as she sank into me.
I hated that she was scared. That her father had hurt her so badly, the pain echoed in her dreams even now. But holding her like this—warm and comfortable in my bed—felt so good, I couldn’t help but smile. That was something I didn’t do very often.
“Gibson?” she whispered.
“Yeah?”
“Thank you.”
I squeezed her tighter. “Feel better?”
“So much better.”
“Good.” I kissed her head again.
She was quiet for a long moment and I wondered if she’d fallen asleep. “Everything is different now, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, it is.”
“Does that scare you?”
I thought about it for a beat. It did scare me. Didn’t seem like there was any reason to keep that from her. “Little bit. You?”
She nodded, her head moving against my chest. “Little bit.”
Oddly, that seemed like a good sign. I didn’t know what I was doing, or where this was headed. But at least we were on the same page.
“Do you think you can sleep now?” I asked.
“Will you stay with me?”
I squeezed her again. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“Good.”
The last of the tension seemed to melt from her body, her limbs going languid. I closed my eyes, drifting in the warmth of her skin, the feel of her soft breathing. And I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt so at peace.
23
GIBSON
The smell of paint filled the air in the Bootleg Springs High School gym. Jonah and Jameson were each on a tall ladder, rolling on a coat of light blue in a band across the wall. Bowie, Devlin, and I were working on the dark blue at the bottom.
Painting the old high school gym. The things I did for my brother. At least we were just doing the stripes, not the entire walls.
Cash was at home. I’d spent the last few days building a fence around a good portion of the yard, right off the back porch. He had room to run, a bed on the porch to sleep on, food and water. The weather was nice, so he was a happy little guy. And we could let him run free without worrying about him taking off.
“I thought you said George was coming,” Jameson called down from his perch above my head. “It should be his tall ass up here.”
“I thought he was,” Bowie said. “I texted him, but he hasn’t answered.”
“He better show up,” Jameson said. “It ain’t like we can toss him in the lake again if he doesn’t.”
