Page 13 of No Shot (The Toronto Tundra #2)

Penn

I think I broke her.

She ’ s huddled in a puddle on the floor, refusing to look at me. I tentatively approach her like she ’ s a fucking stray at the end of an alleyway.

“ Are you okay? I uh, I ’ m sorry, I didn ’ t think you were going to uh, grab it.” Holy fuck was that unexpected. My cock pulsed in her warm hand the second she grabbed me, a wave of thrill shooting through me.

God, I need to get laid.

“ Bridgette?” I lower my hand to gently graze her shoulder. Her whole body flinches. “ Shit, sorry,” I let out on a reflex.

“ That movie was amazing,” she deadpans. “ Seriously, ten out of ten.”

I smirk, successfully withholding my laugh.

“ Want to get off the floor, or?”

“ I think I ’ m good.”

“ Alright, cool, cool. Uh, I guess I ’ ll just sit here then.” I pop back down on the couch, watching her brain work in overtime.

“ I-I should go.”

“ You don ’ t have to. We could always finish the movie.”

The glare she gives me tells me she ’ ll make a full recovery. She slumps her head back down and mumbles something into her knees.

“ What was that?” I lean forward, propping my hands on my knees.

Her eyes roll like I ’ m doing this on purpose. I ’ m telling you, not even my mom would have caught what she said, and that woman can hear a pin drop from a mile away.

She huffs before replying a little louder this time. “ I said, can you walk me back?”

“ To your apartment?”

She nods.

“ You want me to walk you back to your apartment? That ’ s next door to mine? Two steps away?”

“ Never mind, forget it.”

“ I ’ m messing with you, Soup.” I get up, noticing the slightest wave of relief cross her face.

Extending my arm down to her, I pull her to her feet.

We walk in silence for the two-second trek before I watch her tap her keycard over the lock and push.

The moment her door opens, she freezes, recoiling until her back is flush against the opposing wall.

“ It ’ s dark,” she gasps.

“ Astute observation.”

“ I forgot to turn the lights on before I left.” Uhh… so?

“ Why would you—” Oh, don ’ t tell me. There’s no hiding this smirk. “ Soup, are you afraid of the dark?”

Oh man, something about this fierce girl having a fear like this normalises her. It ’ s endearing as fuck.

“ Absolutely not.” She stands up a little taller before muttering, “ I ’ m afraid of what is lurking in the dark, there ’ s a big difference.”

“ Sure, there is.” I smile, grabbing the key card from her hand. I let myself in, like I ’ ve done a million times before when Jack lived here. Halfway through the doorway, I fake a gasp, looking over my shoulder with a laugh before flipping the light switch.

Unamused, she shoves my back, but follows me in, staying suspiciously close to my side.

Damn, does that protective instinct ever hit you hard.

I feel invincible as I do a quick sweep of the space, flipping on lights as I go.

Bri hangs one step behind me as I make my round.

When we head up the stairs, she grabs a handful of the back of my hoodie like she ’ s afraid I ’ ll run off without her.

I ’ m tempted just to see the look of horror on her face, but she ’ s been through enough tonight.

When I make it to the top step, I glance around the loft bedroom. A faint glow illuminates the space. Is that? Oh man, I don ’ t know why I find that so adorable. Plugged in on either side of the bed are little moon nightlights. The corner of my mouth tugs upward, but I keep it to myself.

“ Lurker-free,” I confirm.

She rises to her tiptoes, checking over my shoulder once to confirm my findings, before taking a small breath.

“ O-okay, thanks.” The wobbling of her voice pulls at my heart. Damn, I ’ m going soft.

“ You gonna be alright?” I ask, though I think I already know the answer.

“ Course,” she replies, her voice stripped of its usual confidence. She walks with me to the door, holding it open with a shaky hand. “ Night, Penn.”

“ Goodnight.”

Once outside, I blow out a breath, resting my head against the door frame.

I thought it ’ d be fun to see her squirm, but I didn ’ t want to actually traumatize the girl. She ’ s still rattled, and I can ’ t help but feel like it might be my fault. Well, actually, I know it ’ s my fault. I drag my hand down my face before heading back to my apartment.

I return to her door two minutes later, lifting my right hand to knock, pillow in my left hand. It ’ s silent. The irritating whirring of the fluorescent hallway lights fills the air. Another minute passes before I knock again. The doorknob wobbles, like she ’ s struggling to open it.

When she peeks out, her surprised face scans up my body. “ What-what are you doing back here?”

“ First off, don ’ t open the door to strangers. Second, what took you so long to open the door?”

“ Oh man, what would I do without you! I ’ d never know whether I should or shouldn ’ t open the door, and at what speed to do so! Wow, Penn, thank you so much. You ’ re just a wealth of knowledge, aren ’ t you?”

“ Yeah, yeah, yeah. Feminism and all that.”

She scoffs, but eyes the pillow in my hand. “ What ’ s that?”

“ Oh, this? Well, see, most people use this to rest their head at night. It ’ s called a p-i-l-l-o-w.”

“ I know what it is, asshole. Why do you have a pillow?”

I shrug. “ Gonna crash on your couch.”

“ What? Why?”

Uhh, I hadn ’ t thought that far ahead. ‘ Cus I feel bad? Because I don ’ t want her to be scared anymore? Because I kind of… I don ’ t know… like being around her?

“ I just really love sleeping on this couch.” Not technically a lie.

All of Jack ’ s furniture is still here, including his ridiculously comfortable cloud couch.

Honestly, other than not being about to roll around as much as I can in my bed, I ’ m probably in for a pretty decent sleep. “ You gonna let me in, or…?”

She seems hesitant, still hovering in the doorway before taking a step back to let me enter. I toss my pillow on the far end of the couch, then kick off my shoes, already starting to make myself feel at home.

“ Seriously, Penn. What are you doing?”

“ I feel bad, okay? I don ’ t like seeing you like this. So, I volunteer to be your human shield. Now go to sleep.”

“ Oh, that ’ s, um, thanks.” She smiles, but there ’ s still a touch of uncertainty to it. “ I think I have a bit of food in my fridge. You can, uh, help yourself if you get hungry.” I ’ m definitely not used to her nervous rambling. “ Or not, just there in case.”

“ Bri?”

“ Yeah?”

“ Go to bed.”

“ Okay.” She turns and ascends the stairs as I settle into the massive couch cushions.

I ’ m woken by the loud grumble of my stomach.

Not entirely surprising. Like the Hobbits have second breakfast, Penn Brooks has midnight snackies.

I leap to my feet, wandering over to the massive double door fridge as I ’ ve done a million times before.

Normally, I ’ m used to seeing it jam-packed, filled with everything you could ever dream of.

I ’ m salivating just remembering back. I ’ d nearly depend on Jack ’ s place to keep me fed every time I “ forgot” to grocery shop.

Now, I ’ m standing face to face with three Tupperware containers labelled with dates from earlier in the week, a bottle of oat milk, strawberries, hummus, and— gag —a package of unopened tofu.

What fresh hell is this?

I close the door, praying the pantry is where she keeps all the good stuff. My dread is immediately justified as I stumble upon gluten-free crackers and some organic fruit leathers. What am I, a rabbit?

Welp, guess I ’ m a rabbit because I eat pretty much everything I deem edible. I finish munching on the last handful of crackers, dipped in the rest of the hummus from the container. My stomach rumbles in frustration.

I know, man, what do you want me to do? Apparently, the vegans have invaded.

“ NO!” A scream comes from upstairs, and without thinking, I take the stairs two at a time.

Bri ’ s face is fully contorted, brows knit with a frown on her face as she thrashes side to side. She ’ s tucked under the blanket, but her hands are clenched, resting on either side of her face.

“ N-no…” My gut aches with her sad plea.

When she gasps, her whole body startling, I move forward.

I never dream. I don ’ t know what that feels like, but I imagine it ’ s not pleasant if it ’ s a nightmare?

If I wake her up, she ’ s definitely going to think I ’ m here to murder her.

I rock back and forth, frozen between approaching her and sneaking back downstairs.

When her face pulls taut again, it looks like she ’ s going to cry.

I step forward, gentle on my feet until I ’ m by her side. I softly graze her arm, trying my best not to startle her. To my surprise, the tension in her face eases as her head moves closer to me. “ Bri,” I whisper.

“ Mmm?” The softness of her sleepy voice makes me smile.

“ You were having a nightmare.” She doesn ’ t reply, and I worry she ’ ll slip back into the dream she was just having. When my hand descends on her shoulder again, her body turns to face me, as she nuzzles her head into my palm. Her breath tickles at my hand and her face turns calm.

She strikes me as anything but a cuddler, so the way she ’ s settled so easily is ridiculously amusing. I ’ m never going to let her live this one down. My sweet little Soup.

Unfortunately, I ’ m now stuck, supporting the weight of her head with her cheek pressed against my hand. I sigh and sink to the floor, careful not to move my arm too much. She looks so peaceful now—long lashes resting softly against her round, full cheeks. She really is strikingly beautiful.

I rest the back of my head against the bedside table. It ’ s pointed and digging into my skull, and I ’ m definitely going to wake up with a kink in my neck… but whatever. I close my eyes, fo cusing on my breathing in the hopes that I can actually fall asleep.

I ’ m just staying here because I feel bad for scaring her.

It ’ s not because I like being the one who comforts her.

And definitely not because I ’ m starting to like her.