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“Are you sure you’re okay?” I ask.
“Yes,” she says, but her usually confident voice is weak. Of course, she’d have nightmares. I should have warned her. I should have talked her through the shock and described what to expect. But I was too worried about getting too close and risking my heart in the process that I pushed her away, leaving her to deal with it on her own.
I completely let her down.
I flick on the bedside lamp and study her to make sure she’s unharmed. Except for the bruising on her forehead, nothing is out of place. But my heart still isn’t content. I run my fingers down her arms, up her shoulders, and neck, my anxiety lessening with every inch of skin I touch. My fingers linger on the pulse point in her wrists, feeling her heartbeat.
When I’m content with the steady pace, I let out a long breath.
She bites her bottom lip until the skin there turns white. “Could you maybe stay here? Just for a little bit. I feel safer with you here. I haven’t gotten much sleep lately.”
I swallow. That’s my job, right? To protect her, even if it’s from her fears.
But what about the part of me that longs to protect her, and only her, forever?
“Of course.” I stand up prepared to take the chair for the night, but Amelia grabs my hand.
“You can sleep on this side of the bed. It’s fine.”
I swallow. Sure. That’s not a big deal. No big deal at all.
She scoots over, knocking items to the floor as she does, and I slide into the spot she warmed up for me. The spot that smells like her. I’m not getting any sleep tonight.
“Do you want the lamp on?” I ask. Why did my voice come out so hoarse?
She shakes her head and leans over me to turn it off. The room plunges into darkness and instead of retreating to her side of the bed she lays her head on my bare chest.
I forgot I’m not wearing a shirt. This makes her closeness infinitely worse.
I go stiff, waiting for her to move but she doesn’t. Her breath comes in steady waves.
Is she asleep already? Should I leave?
I don’t want to.
But what I want and what she needs are two different things. She needs someone to protect her, not fall for her.
Why can’t I do both?
For tonight, I’ll pretend this doesn’t completely cross the line of my responsibilities and hold her. Then tomorrow I’ll wake up, dust off all the feelings, and be the ruthless agent I trained to be.
Tomorrow. I can do all things tomorrow.
I adjust my arm beneath her head, moving my hand to rest on her hip. Because it’s more comfortable and not because I want more excuses to touch her. Her skin is warm against mine. I’m relaxed and stressed at the same time.
Amelia stirs, her hair tickling my chest. “Hey Caleb,” she says sleepily.
“Hmm?”
“I knew you were next door.”
My body grows ten degrees hotter.
How much more does she know about me? Does she know I’ve completely fallen for her?
Chapter 40
Amelia