Page 91 of Stay With Me

“Come here, sweetheart.”

Her gaze shifted as she hiccupped. “Come where?”

“Climb in here and lie down with me.”

“I don’t think I’m allowed to do that.”

He scoffed and tugged at her hand. “Like hell you’re not. There’s plenty of room. You’re exhausted. And it’ll make me feel better if I can have you close to me. Come on.”

She hesitated briefly, finally deciding the worst that would happen was Charlotte telling her to get out and go to her bed, and gingerly crawled in next to him on his left side to avoid bumping the torture device. She nestled her face against his chest, and he folded his arms over her, resting his chin on top of her head. She was not surprised at the fact she was immediately ready to fall asleep.

“See?” he said in a low tone. “Isn’t that better?”

“Much.”

“Sammie,” he said after a moment or two of silence.

“Yeah.”

He paused for a moment before continuing. “I feel like I need to say, uh…”

She squinted at the far wall. “Say what?”

“I’m so sorry. For putting you in that position. I had no idea things were going to go that unbelievably badly.”

She shook her head slightly. “You don’t need to apologize. You slipped. It was an accident. I just can’t believe at twenty-seven years old I know nothing about what to do in such circumstances. You shouldn’t be sorry, but I definitely should. Especially since you’re the one who got hurt.” She paused to let out a massive yawn. “I am so sorry, Nick.”

She felt his shoulder lift and fall in a dismissive shrug. “I’ve had worse things happen to me.”

“Worse than falling off a cliff and breaking both legs?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t believe that, but I appreciate you trying to make me feel better.” She yawned again as she continued to stare at the wall, which seemed to be waving at her in her state of being on the cusp of sleep.

“Nick?”

“Hm?”

“How’d you come up with the Sammie nickname?”

“Oh,” he uttered sounding like an odd combination of sleepy and disappointed. “I uh, I must have dreamed that I started calling you that. I’ll stop if you don’t like it.”

“No,” she insisted. “I like it.”

“Good,” he said with a smile in his voice. “I like it, too.”

“So you had a dream about me?”

He paused for an extended moment, and she felt his arms squeeze her slightly tighter while one of his thumbs absently rubbed the base of her chin.

“Um, I think. Yeah. No, yeah, I did. It was just a dream.”

Her face broke into a tiny, delighted grin. “Really?”

“Yeah.”

She yawned. “What did you dream?”