Page 38 of Daisy

She climbs into the bed, pulling the covers up to her chin like armor. I settle into one of the chairs by the table, close enough that she can see me but far enough that I'm not crowding her.

"Gunner," I say into the quiet. "My name's Gunner."

"Daisy," she whispers back.

The silence stretches between us. I can hear her breathing, still too fast, still stressed. Her scent carries exhaustion but shekeeps looking over at me, like she's trying to figure something out.

"You need water? Food?" I ask softly.

She shakes her head, but her breathing doesn't slow. Her eyes keep darting to me, then away.

When she still doesn't relax after a few minutes, I shift forward slightly. "Want me to move the chair closer to the bed? Or would you prefer I move it further away?"

"Closer," she whispers, so quiet I almost miss it.

I stand and move the chair right up beside her bed. "Here?"

She nods, pulling the covers higher.

I settle back down, stretching out my legs and letting my head fall back to look at the ceiling. Don't want to watch her and make her feel more anxious than she already is.

That's when I feel it. The back of her small hand, warm and tentative, barely brushes against my leg through my jeans. So soft I almost think I imagined it.

My breath catches, but I don't move. Don't look down. Just let her have this small connection if it makes her feel safer.

Her breathing finally starts to even out. Deeper. Calmer. Her scent grows warmer, the sharp edges of fear smoothing into something softer.

When I glance over at August and Cassian, they're both watching from the other bed. August gives me a small smile and nods. Cassian's amber eyes are unguarded, something almost gentle in his expression. They settle back to sleep, giving us this moment.

Outside, dawn light filters through the curtains. Her hand stays pressed against my leg, trusting, and even though exhaustion pulls at me, I'd rather never sleep for the rest of my life than miss this.

For the first time in years, I feel like I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be.

Protecting what's mine.

Chapter 12

Daisy

Iwake to the sound of breathing that isn't my own.

For a moment, panic claws at my throat. Strange room. Strange bed. The scent of alphas everywhere, thick and overwhelming even though it doesn't feel threatening.

Then I remember.

The rescue. The van. Gunner's warm green eyes when I pointed at him and whispered that he felt safe.

My hand.

I look down and my heart stops. The back of my hand is still pressed against his leg through his jeans, just like when I fell asleep. I've been touching him all morning. An alpha. And he didn't move away.

He's asleep in the chair beside my bed, his head tilted back at an angle that has to hurt his neck. His sandy hair is messed up, and there are dark circles under his eyes. His long legs are stretched out, trying to find comfort in a space too small for his frame.

His hand rests palm up on his thigh, so close to mine. Large and callused from real work, fingers slightly curled like he's waiting for something to hold. The sight of it makes somethingdeep in my chest ache with longing. I want so badly to slip my hand into his, to let those strong fingers curl around mine. To trust him completely with my life.

Guilt hits me like a physical blow.

He drove all night. Kept me safe while I slept. And now he's cramped in that awful chair because I was too scared to let him sleep outside in the van with the others.