Page 70 of Fighting a Riot

He shoved that idea aside and climbed into his side of the bed.

“They won’t come back,” she whispered.

“I won’t take that chance,” he said.

“You’re a good man.”

He kept his eyes on the ceiling and chuckled. “If you think that, you need to reevaluate how you define a good man.”

“You’re humble, too.”

“No. Your brother’s a good man, Nora.”

She laughed. “No. I mean, he is… but so are you.”

“He wouldn’t bring danger to your door.”

She shifted closer to him. “You didn’t do that. Those two assholes did. And regardless, he’d have responded the same way. Gun in hand and ordering me to get out and stay with him.” She hesitated. “Though, not in the same bed.”

“You’re twins.”

“Yeah, but I’m a snuggler at night.”

He recalled waking up next to her at the clubhouse. She’d been rolled into him –though not quite a full ‘snuggle.’ It had spurred him to sit in the recliner.

“Which reminds me.” She sat up and started shoving a pillow between them.

He grabbed her hand. “Stop.”

She leveled her green eyes on him. “Yak. The last few weeks, you’ve gone out of your way to be scarce. I get it. There’s nothing between us. So, I’m not gonna make you uncomfortable in your own bed.”

He yanked the pillow out from under the covers and tossed it behind his head. “Nora, I don’t want anything between us. Just sleep.”

She stared at him for a long, loaded moment.

With a sigh, she shook her head, muttering, “I wish I understood men. Gah!”

His body shook with a silent chuckle. “Men feel just the same way, woman.”

One thing he understood with certainty, this long night was about to get even fucking longer.

Nora

I woke up three times during the night. All because of nightmares.

The last time, I caught faint traces of morning light against a hairline crack in one of Yak’s black-out shades.

I exerted the utmost care to move my legs away from Yak, slow and easy.

His arm darted out, his hand landing on my thigh. “Where you goin’?”

His husky, sleepy voice did things to me. I ignored those things.

“The bathroom,” I croaked.

“Hurry.”

That seemed strange. I supposed he need the toilet, too.

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