Page 144 of Things We Hide from the Light
“Fine. But this doesn’t mean I’m not still furious with you.”
“Same goes.”
“Don’t be an ass.”
I tried to round the foot of the bed, but he stopped me and pulled me back. He jackknifed into a seated position, hooked me under the arms, and pulled me on top of him.
“Nash.”
“Just need you close,” he whispered.
When he collapsed back against the pillows, he settled me into his side, my thigh draping over his hips, my head resting on his chest just below the scar on his shoulder.
I could hear the thunder of his heartbeat, and I splayed my palm across his chest. He shuddered once and then his muscles seemed to lose some of the tension they held so rigidly.
He let out a tremulous sigh, then wrapped both arms around me, pressed his face to my hair, and held on tight.
Piper claimed her space at Nash’s feet, resting her head on his ankle and shooting sorrowful glances up at us.
With nothing left to do, I breathed with him.
Four. Seven. Eight.
Four. Seven. Eight.
Over and over again until the tension left his body. “Better now,” Nash whispered into my hair. We lay there, breathing together, being together until sleep drifted over us both.
TWENTY-NINE
WINNING CAREER DAY
Nash
Iwoke up to the dreary light of dawn and the sound that haunted me, the persistent brittle crunch that drove me to madness in my sleep. This morning, it was accompanied by the soft click of Lina’s front door closing.
The sheets next to me were still warm, a ghost of the woman who’d been there all night, curled into my side, anchoring me with the rise and fall of her chest.
She’d been there for me when I needed her most. And then she’d made a point to leave her own damn bed so I’d wake up alone.
I dragged my hands over my face. Something had to give between us and I had the sinking suspicion that “something” was gonna be me.
A weight hit the mattress, and a second later, Piper pounced on my chest. I grunted. Kibble dust stained her white muzzle, which meant Lina had fed her breakfast.
“Mornin’, bud,” I rasped, wiping the sleep from my eyes.
She nudged at me until I gave her a half-hearted scruffing.
“Don’t look at me like that. I’m fine,” I said.
Piper didn’t look like she believed me.
But it felt true. Sure, I had a lingering headache at the base of my neck and every muscle in my body felt like it had gone a few rounds in the ring. But I’d slept deep and woken with a clear head.
I picked her up and held her aloft over my head. “See? Everything’s fine.” Her little tail blurred with enthusiasm as she pawed playfully at the air. “All right. Let’s start the damn day.”
The dog tip-tapped after me into the bathroom where I found a note taped to the mirror.
N,
