Page 27 of Inferno

“Yeah. No.” He sighs loudly as he scrubs his hands over his face. “Hell, I don’t know.”

I smile slightly. This is a side of him I haven’t seen, and it’s kinda adorable. I open my mouth to encourage him to talk, but he starts before I can make a peep.

“I was worried about you,” he says quickly. “With everything going on, I was sitting at home worrying and figured I might as well come here and worry where I can at least keep an eye on you.”

I smirk. “Sorta like you did the other night when you didn’t go home.” His eyes widen comically. “Yeah, I know about that. I saw your bike from my window before I went to bed.”

“Um, sorry about?—”

He presses his lips into a flat line when I hold up my hand. “You don’t have to apologize. It was sweet.”

“Sweet?” His tone suggests he has a problem with my description.

“Would you prefer manly?”

Inferno’s forehead wrinkles as he contemplates my questions. “Well, yeah. I think most men would.”

I can’t stop the snort that escapes. “Fine. It was manly.”

He rolls his eyes, and I chuckle. “Anyway, I was worrying at home and decided to worry here instead. And all that worrying made me fucking tired.”

“Well, as you can see, I’m fine. Nothing to worry about.”

He groans. “That’s just it. When it comes to you, I can’t seem to stop it. I can tell you’re leery of me, apprehensive, but my brain doesn’t seem to give a shit.”

“Okay,” I say, drawing out the word.

Inferno flops down onto my couch as if he can no longer physically stand. “I’m so fucking tired.”

Without thinking, I move toward him and pull him to his feet. “Then let's go get some sleep.”

This big hulk of a man lets me lead him like a stray puppy up the stairs and into my bedroom. I push him onto the mattress so I can take his boots off. All the while, he remains pliable and open to my every move.

It takes some doing, but I get him down to his boxer briefs—without jumping his bones I might add—and urge him under the blanket. Then I walk around the bed and crawl in beside him.

“What is this?” he asks quietly after a few silent minutes pass.

“You’re tired,” I tell him. “This is you getting sleep.”

“I don’t sleep.”

“Everyone sleeps.” I turn on my side and tuck my arm under my head. “‘Night, Inferno.”

“‘Night, Emmy,” he slurs.

For the first time in as long as I can remember, I sleep through the night. No nightmares plague me, no middle-of-the-night thoughts keep me up. And when I wake up, I feel rested and…

Oh, shit.

I roll over and stare into a pair of dark eyes.

“Morning,” Inferno says.

“M-morning.”

How the hell could I forget there was a man in my bed?

“I’m sorry about last night.”

---