Page 154 of Buried Too Deep

He ignored Molly’s smirk as he passed her on his way back up the stairs. Cora had drawn back the covers and was snuggled beneath them.

Still naked, he discovered when he climbed into bed beside her. SodaPop lay on the floor next to the bed.

“Good night, Phin,” Cora murmured as she cuddled up against him.

He hadn’t slept with another person in longer than he could remember, but Cora wanted him to sleep with her and that was exactly what she was going to get.

He slid his arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer, her happy hum making everything right. Tomorrow they’d get back to work.

For now, he’d enjoy holding her as she slept.

It was good to feel again.

The Garden District, New Orleans, Louisiana

FRIDAY, DECEMBER 16, 4:30 A.M.

“No!”

Cora jerked awake at the shout. She’d fallen asleep in Phin’s arms, but at some point, he’d pulled away and now lay curled into himself on the far edge of the bed. He was shaking and muttering “no” over and over again.

SodaPop was nuzzling Phin’s neck, whimpering loudly.

He said he dreamed. Oh, Phin.

“Phin?” Cora gently reached for his shoulder, giving it a gentle nudge, before yanking her hand back. If he flailed, she didn’t want him to feel guilty because he’d lashed out in his sleep and inadvertently hurt her.

He did flail, but it was immediately halted when someone knocked on Cora’s bedroom door.

“Everything okay in there?” Molly called loudly.

Phin jackknifed into a sitting position, his eyes wild and disoriented. “What?” he demanded hoarsely.

“You were dreaming, Phin. It’s okay.” Cora slid out of bed and into her robe. Better to get Molly sorted first. She opened the door wide enough that Molly could see she was unharmed. “We’re fine. Just a bad dream.”

Molly’s mouth bent down in sympathy. “I know those. Let me know if you need anything. Do you have any water?”

“I have bottles up here. I’ll make sure he drinks something.”

“Give him some aspirin, too.” Molly gave her a nod before returning downstairs.

Cora shut the door firmly and sat on the edge of the bed closest to Phin. He still sat up, but his folded arms rested on his updrawn knees, his head in his hands. His body trembled and Cora’s heart cracked.

She brushed a tentative hand over his head, working her fingers into his dark hair, massaging his scalp without saying another word.

Finally, he began to relax. “Sorry.”

“Hush. Don’t you tell me you’re sorry, Phin Bishop. Not me.”

He lifted his head, met her gaze. His eyes were devastated. “But I am.”

“You are what?” she murmured, shifting so that she could work both hands into his hair, and he closed his eyes on a quiet groan.

“Sorry. Broken.”

She didn’t tell him that he wasn’t broken. He was, a little bit. So was she, just not in the same way. “You’re putting yourself back together, though. I’m proud of you, Phin. You’ve done so much for me this week.” She injected humor into her tone. “You did so much for me a few hours ago.”

He snorted a laugh. “I did do that, didn’t I?”

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