Page 36 of Anything for You (Veterans of Silver Ridge #7)

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

Dove

I ’d been hydrating like it was my part-time job and sleeping as much as humanly possible after work. I’d only worked Friday and a half day Saturday since I knew my stamina would take a while to recover.

But at two a.m. after taking care of the necessaries, something caught my attention. Something felt wrong.

I moved through the darkened house and peeked out the front window. Dorian’s car was parked in its spot. The lights were out at his house, only the porch light on, same as mine.

But…

Was that Bear? Barking?

The second I realized it was, the hairs on my neck and arms stood up and a jolt of adrenaline hit my bloodstream. I raced to pull on my shoes, then barreled out the front door. At Dorian’s, I knocked once, twice, then tried the knob and miraculously, it opened.

“Dorian?” I called, entering slowly so I wouldn’t startle him or Bear.

By all accounts, this was an absolutely insane choice, but my gut said something was wrong.

Bear arrived at the door at a gallop, then instantly turned and walked a few steps, obviously leading me. I followed.

“Where is he, Bear Bear? What’s wrong?” My heart was hammering a mile a minute and I dreaded what awaited me. Was he hurt? Had he gotten sick, too?

Something… worse?

Bear padded through the kitchen with focus, on a mission to lead me to Dorian’s bedroom. My heart sank when I entered and found Dorian thrashing in his bed.

Not just thrashing, hands grappling an unseen foe, but crying.

“Please, please. Hold on, Baseline. Hold—” His body went still, only his head shaking back and forth in disbelief or maybe trying to escape, and with it a low groan of pain.

“Dorian,” I said, not sure if it was wise to touch him.

Bear took what looked like his posting at Dorian’s side, whining, then barking. He must’ve been trying to wake Dorian all this time.

When the large man fighting an invisible enemy let out a low, keening sob, I moved. I didn’t know what kind of horrors, exactly, he was reliving but I couldn’t stand here and watch.

Using courage and my boss nurse mode, I grabbed his shoulder with firm, insistent pressure.

“Dorian, you’re safe. Wake up.”

He jolted, almost choking on the mournful sounds he’d been making, but his head jerked again.

“Dorian, love, you’re alright. You’re safe in your bed. Bear and I are here. Wake up for me, big man. Wake up, okay?” I kept speaking in a soothing but strong voice, gripping his shoulder firmly, until his energy shifted and his eyes finally opened.

Bear let out a little yip and shoved in past me, needing to do whatever it was he was trained to do.

“Sorry, buddy,” Dorian said, blinking and clearly trying to get his bearings.

“I’m here, too, Dorian. It’s me, Dove,” I announced myself so I wouldn’t terrify him. He’d been completely out of it in the dream so I hated the thought I might just be lurking here. I flipped on the lamp, and the low glow let me see him clearly.

He looked absolutely wrecked. His exhausted gaze met mine, and my heart lurched toward him, desperate.

“Oh, Dorian. I’m sorry.” I didn’t know what else to say or do. My hands fluttered around like useless little bats and I had never wanted to touch someone so desperately. I needed to hug him, but I’d already invaded his home and interrupted an incredibly awful moment.

“Dove.”

His voice was so… defeated. His eyes cast down to the mess of sheets twisted around his hips. Torso bare, I could see every breath he took by the rising and falling of his chest.

He didn’t need to say a word. I could help him be more comfortable, though. I could do this.

“Can I check your pulse?” I asked, not wanting to touch him without permission, but the nurse in me needing to get my hands on him. Or maybe that was the needy, physical touch-starved woman who cared so deeply for this man and ached for him to know he wasn’t alone.

His slight chin nod was all I needed. I took his wrist and felt the still-rapid thrum of his pulse. “Fast, but coming down.”

His jaw flexed, and he made a small movement to show he’d heard me, his other hand resting against Bear’s head.

“I’m sorry,” he said, so quietly my ears strained to hear him even in the stillness of his room this time of night.

“You can’t be apologizing to me for having a nightmare, can you?” My throat tightened, but now was not the time for pesky tears. “Dorian, what can I do? Please tell me I can do something for you.”

If it sounded like I was begging, I was.

His eyes slowly tracked up from Bear to meet my gaze. There were so many feelings caged behind his expression and if he weren’t already cracked open and spilling out all over the place, I’d want to dig around and figure him out.

Will he let me help him? Should I just leave?

“Hug?”

The small word shot straight to my heart and I instantly moved to embrace him. He wrapped me up and held me tight. I cradled his head, pressing him to me with every ounce of care I possessed.

“Would you stay? Just for a little while?”

His breath grazed my neck, the coarse hair of his beard brushing against the sensitive skin, too.

“Of course,” I said instantly, leaning back. “Where do you want me?”

At another time, that might’ve been a provocative question, especially with me in my thin tank and shorts and him in nothing but boxers.

But I had no worries with him, so when he guided me to the bed, flipped off the lamp, whispered something to Bear, and curled around me, I didn’t fret over the implications.

Frankly, I hoped Dorian and I would have many nights sharing a bed in the future, but tonight was a kind of ground zero for us. He’d seen me in the ugliness of grief and loneliness. He’d seen me delirious with fever.

This was my first real glimpse at Dorian laid bare.

He’d shared some of his past with me, but tonight, I’d witnessed it.

Knowing he’d long felt someone couldn’t care for him due to what he’d seen and done and the fallout that came from it moved me to borderline gladness this had happened, save for the reality that it’d brought him pain.

“I’m not scared,” I said with nearly no sound, knowing it meant little in the context of what had happened, but needing him to know it.

One arm contracted, holding me tighter, and every point of contact between us seemed to press more closely.

My hamstrings and calves brushed against the coarse hairs of his thighs and shins.

My bottom was cradled in the curve of his pelvis, his muscular, flat stomach lined up with my back.

Shoulders far wider than mine, our heads on a shared pillow.

There was nothing sexual about this nearness. Dorian held on to me in the darkness, the pale moonlight making a narrow dent in the black corner of the room, like I was his anchor.

When he did respond, I couldn’t decide what it meant.

“I am,” he said, a gruff whisper stirring my hair.

I pressed my palms over his arm banded around my waist, praying he would know I was here with him. That it was okay he was scared.

And I knew without a doubt I was exactly where I was meant to be.