“Thanks for making dinner. You didn’t have to,” Hardin tells me, and I nod before we both head into the bedroom.
“I can sleep on the floor tonight since you did last night,” I offer, even though I know he wouldn’t actually let me sleep on the floor.
“No, it’s fine. It’s actually not so bad,” he says
I sit on the bed, and Hardin takes the blankets from the closet and lays them on the floor. I toss him two pillows, and he gives me a small smile before unbuttoning his jeans. Oh, I definitely should look away. I don’t exactly want to, but I know that I should. He pulls his black jeans down and steps out of them. The way his muscles move on his tattooed stomach as he bends down has me unable to look away, reminding me just how attracted I am to him, despite my anger. His black boxers cling to his skin, and his head snaps up to look at me. His face, hard and concentrated on mine, only feeds my trance. His jawline is so sharp, so intriguing. He’s still staring.
“Sorry,” I say, and jerk my head to the side, my cheeks flaring in humiliation.
“No, I’m sorry. Just a habit, I guess.” He shrugs and pulls a pair of cotton pants from the dresser.
I keep my eyes on the wall until he says “good night, Tess” and flicks the light off. I can practically hear the smirk in this tone.
I’M AWOKEN BY A SHARP SOUND and stare at the ceiling, I can barely see the blades of the fan moving through the darkness.
Then I hear it again, Hardin’s voice. “No! Please!” he whimpers.
Shit, he’s having one of his nightmares. I jump out of bed and kneel down beside his thrashing body.
“No!” he repeats, much louder this time.
“Hardin! Hardin, wake up!” I say into his ear and shake his shoulders.
His shirt is soaked with sweat and his face twisted as he opens his eyes, sitting up immediately. “Tess . . .” he breathes and pulls me into his arms.
I rub my fingers through his hair before bringing my hand down to his back. I gently run my hands up and down his back, my nails barely grazing his skin.
“It’s okay,” I tell him over and over again, and he hugs me tighter. “Come on, let’s go to bed,” I say and stand up. Holding on to my T-shirt, he climbs into the bed with me.
“Are you okay?” I ask him when he lies down.
He nods and I pull him closer to me. “Do you think you could get me some water?” he asks.
“Of course. I’ll be right back.”
I turn on the lamp before climbing back out of the bed, then try to keep as quiet as possible so as not to wake Trish. But I get to the kitchen, she’s already there.
“Is he okay?” she asks.
“Yeah, he’s okay now. I’m just getting him some water,” I say to her and fill up a glass in the sink. When I turn back around, she pulls me into a hug and kisses my cheek.
“Can we talk tomorrow?” she asks.
Suddenly I’m too nervous to speak, so I just nod, which makes her smile, though she sniffles as I walk off.
Back in our room, Hardin looks slightly relieved when I return and thanks me as he takes the water from my hand. He gulps down the entire glass while I watch him and join him back on the bed. I can see how uneasy he is, likely from the nightmare, but I know part of it is because of me.
“Come here,” I tell him and see the relief in his eyes as he scoots his body toward mine, and I wrap my arms around him and put my head on his chest. It feels just as comforting to me as I imagine it does to him. Despite everything he has done, I feel like home in this flawed boy’s arms.
“Don’t let me go, Tess,” he whispers and closes his eyes.
Chapter thirty
TESSA
I wake up sweating. Hardin’s head is on my stomach, and his arms are in a bear hug around me. Surely his arms must be numb from my body weight. His legs are intertwined with mine, and he’s snoring lightly.
Taking a deep breath, I carefully lift my hand to brush his luscious hair from his forehead. I feel like I haven’t touched his hair in so long, but in reality it’s only been since Saturday. My mind replays the events in Seattle like a movie as I run my fingers through his soft mess of hair.
His eyes flutter open, and I jerk my hand away quickly. “Sorry,” I say, embarrassed to be caught in the act.
“No, it felt good,” he says, his voice thick from sleep.
After gathering himself and breathing against my skin for a moment, he lifts himself up from me—too soon—and I wish I hadn’t touched his hair so he would still be asleep, holding me.
“I have some work to do today, so I’ll be going to town for a little while,” he says and grabs a pair of black jeans from the closet. He grabs his boots and slips them on quickly. I get the feeling that he’s rushing out of here.
“Okay . . .” What? I thought he’d be happy that we slept together, and that we held each other for the first time in a week. I thought something would have changed—not completely, but I thought maybe he could see that my resolve was wearing down, that I was a few steps closer to reconciling with him than I was yesterday.
“Yeah . . .” he says and twists his eyebrow ring between two fingers before pulling the white T-shirt over his head and grabbing a black one from the dresser. He doesn’t say anything before he exits the room, leaving me confused once again. Of all the things I expected to happen, him running out like this wasn’t one of them. What work could he possibly have to do right now? He reads manuscripts, the same as I do—only he has much more freedom to work from home, so why would he want to do it today? The memory of what Hardin was doing the last time he had to “work” makes my stomach turn.