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She laughs under her breath. “I feel like a toddler.”

“Sometimes you even act like one,” I tease gently, guiding her back onto the pillow, where she quickly settles.

I hover there, staring down at her face, because the ease with which she occupies my bed shakes me to my core.

This feels so right. My bed, my shirt, Lena asleep under my roof. It’s terrifyingly good. It’s everything I want and everything I can’t have.

I linger a second too long, brushing a lock of hair from her forehead before forcing myself to step back. Her breathing evens out, lips parted, face relaxed in sleep.

She’s beautiful.

She’s devastating.

And I’m in deep shit.

Blowing out a breath, I retreat downstairs to the couch. Milo follows, hopping onto the cushions besideme.

“No,” I tell him. “Down.”

He blinks but doesn’t move.

“Don’t start. You’ve got a whole damn bed.”

With a sigh, he hops off and flops dramatically onto the rug as if I just ruined his night.

“Yeah, well, join the club.”

I grab a pillow and settle in, but I’m never going to sleep.

Lena’s upstairs in my bed, wearing my shirt, and I’m down here like an idiot talking to a dog.

“What the hell did I get myself into?”

Milo’s already snoring.

“Helpful. As always.”

I close my eyes and let the quiet wrap around me.

Rosie’s safe. Lena’s here. The house feels…full. Settled.

It won’t last. I know that.

But for now, this feels like something close to perfect.

Thirty-Seven

Lena

Iwake to darkness so absolute, I can’t tell if it’s been an hour or a lifetime. My eyes flutter open as my mind slogs through the haze of deep sleep. It takes a second to remember where I am and why I’m here.

Wes’s room.

His bed.

His scent is clinging to my skin.

When I instinctively reach out, the sheets beneath my palm feel cold. Frowning, I sit up with my heart pounding in my chest before I slip off the bed and walk barefoot down the hall.