Page 124 of Theirs for the Holidays

I can’t help but realize how truly attached to these men I’m getting. When I saw Rhett get hit, I felt it all the way down to thepit of my stomach. If it had happened to either Sawyer or Lennox I would feel the same way.

They matter to me now, and that means I can’t bear to see them hurt. Especially considering how far they’ve come. They have their relationships with each other back, or at least the beginnings of it, and the thought of one of them being badly hurt or worse makes my heart ache.

Sawyer takes over Rhett’s usual job of keeping the fireplace stocked with wood and the house cozy, which Rhett grumbles about.

“I feel useless,” he says, lifting his splinted wrist.

“You’re not useless, you’re hurt,” I insist. “There’s nothing wrong with taking a break so you can heal. Sawyer can make the fires, and we have plenty of wood thanks to you.”

“Sawyer’s building the fire wrong,” Rhett says.

Sawyer rolls his eyes. “That doesn’t make any sense. There’s a fire happening, right?” He gestures to the small fire trying to catch in the fireplace. “So how can it be wrong?”

“Because you’re not giving it enough room to breathe. It’s going to smother itself like that.”

“Oh my god, fine. How should I be doing it, oh Guru of the Fireplace?”

Rhett gives him a lecture on how to arrange the wood and kindling for best effect, and Lennox smiles down at his phone, clearly amused by his brothers’ antics.

If it weren’t for the fact that Rhett’s still banged up, it would be the perfect evening.

It gets late, and eventually we decide it’s time for bed.

I lean into Rhett’s good side, touching his arm. “Will you sleep in the bed with me tonight?” I ask him.

He smiles down at me, going to raise an eyebrow and then wincing when the movement pulls on his stitches. “Don’t want me out of your sight?”

“Something like that.” It’s true, but it’s not the only reason.

Lennox and Sawyer are watching, but neither of them say anything against it. Maybe they realize that Rhett needs the closeness tonight but probably wouldn’t ask for it himself. Maybe they realize that it’s definitely partially for me, too.

Either way, they bid us goodnight, and I take Rhett to bed with me. We arrange ourselves so I’m tucked against his good side, and his wrist can be propped up on a pillow.

“Is this okay?” I whisper in the darkness.

“You don’t have to worry so much, Tink,” he replies. “I’m going to be fine.”

“I know, I just don’t want to make it worse.”

“You couldn’t if you tried.” He reaches up and ruffles my hair. “Get some sleep.”

“That’s my line. You’re the one who got hurt.”

“Oh, I’m gonna pass out any second now. It’s been a long ass day and the painkillers I took after dinner are kicking in.”

I lean up on one arm and drop a careful, gentle kiss to his lips. They curl against mine in a smile, and he presses his forehead against mine when I pull back.

It only takes about five minutes for him to drop off to sleep, and surprisingly, I’m not far behind.

When I wake up again, it’s morning.

Rhett stirs next to me, and I hear him make a grunt of what I can only assume is pain.

“Are you okay?” I ask.

“Fine. Fucking forgot about the wrist for a second and hit myself in the head with the splint.”

I cover my mouth to hide my giggle.