Page 69 of Too Safe

There’s only one bed.

Why the hell is there only one bed?

And not only that. There’s no couch. No cot or rollaway. Not even a cushioned chair.

This is not going to work. Sharing a room is one thing, but I can’t sleep on the floor. I’ll be better off sneaking into Kylian’s room, or even Locke’s, and dealing with the consequences. What could Decker even do? Scold me? Ground me? Spank me? Carry me caveman-style back to his room and tie me to the bed?

A throat clears behind me, from near the doorway I just walked through.

“Josephine.”

The broody bastard himself leans out of what appears to be the bathroom, arms braced on the doorframe. He’s shirtless, because of course he is. Decker fucking Crusade. Freshly showered and still dripping wet. I allow myself two seconds of ogling, sweeping my gaze over the hard muscles of his chest and the dip of his slender hips, before I take a measured step backward, deeper into the room.

“You made it.” His tone is conversational. As if he’s Mister Nice Guy all of a sudden. He runs one of his huge hands through his still-wet hair, then offers me the smallest hint of a smile.

He’s actingdifferent. Softer. Maybe even cordial? But the shift in behavior doesn’t have time to fully register. I’ve got a one-track mind, and I can’t help but blurt out the obvious.

“There’s only one bed,” I accuse.

A grimace colors his expression.

“Yeah. About that… The hotel is fully booked because of the game. The team always requests king-size beds, and by the time I thought to call…” His arms flex as he grips the doorframe and drops his attention to his bare feet.

He’s wearing athletic shorts, at least. Solid black—like his soul. The band of his Calvins peeks out of the top, taunting me. But I don’t have the luxury of being distracted by Decker Crusade’s underwear right now. We have to figure this out so I can ease the unbridled fear threatening to consume me.

“You expect me to believe the almighty Decker Crusade couldn’t get a room change request?”

Dark eyes dancing with playfulness meet mine as he pushes his tongue into his cheek and smirks. “Almighty, huh?”

I don’t have it in me to respond to his flirtatious jab. My brain is already seizing up, and the first licks of panic are caressing my insides. Every nerve in my body is on high alert. Every muscle is locked up tight.

Decker lowers his arms and takes a tentative step toward me.

I immediately take two steps back.

“We’re not in Lake Chapel, Josephine,” he murmurs, brows dipping low as he watches me. “I don’t have any pull in this town or with these people. The bed situation is what it is.”

I huff out a breath, shooting for annoyance rather than trepidation. “The other guys have kings, too?”

Maybe we could switch rooms. Hell, I’d be willing to subject myself to Kendrick’s wrath if it meant I didn’t have to sleep on the floor.

Decker grits his teeth. “They do. But we’ve already been over this. Even if they didn’t, that’s not an option. I need them focused and ready for tomorrow. There’s no alternative to this arrangement.”

This arrangement. This shit-tastic situation in which he’ll insist on taking the bed and I’ll be stuck on the floor.

I’ve done more than my fair share of sleeping rough. Though not every one of those situations has been terrible. I’ve slept on friends’ couches. I’ve crashed in the back seat of cars. But I fell asleep leaning up against the front door more times than I can count when my mom forgot that she had a child and was supposed to be responsible for another human life.

On those nights, Mrs. Rubin would inevitably find me outside. She’d shake me gently and wordlessly indicate that I should follow. She’d let me sleep on the pull-out couch in her trailer, then make a huge breakfast in the morning and insist she made much more than she could possibly eat on her own.

So yeah, I’ve spent plenty of nights sleeping rough. But not sincethatnight.

I need pillows. Sheets. A comforter to cocoon myself in so that the moment I come to, I have a grip on reality. I need the comfort of a bed to convince myself of what’s real—of where I am, and more importantly, ofwhere I’m not.

Sleeping on the floor—on any floor, or on the ground, in any situation—has the power to send me catapulting into an episode.

Decker’s making me room with him because he thinks I’m going to run?This. This is what’ll make me run. This’ll send me over the edge.

I know how my body and brain will react if I try to sleep on the floor. Being that exposed and vulnerable is not an option.

---