Page 86 of Bound

A week later, I roll over and find the mattress next to me empty.

Again.

Claire is functioning much like her old self. She’s just…not sleeping.

“Shit,” I mutter, sliding out from beneath the blankets and padding to the door. I’ll orgasm her ass into oblivion, pin her to the mattress beside me, if I have to, but these half-nights of sleep have got to end.

She needs rest.

She needs to stop beating herself up.

She needs?—

I throw on the brakes when I nearly plow into Gran, who’s standing outside our bedroom door in a house robe and slippers, her hair in legit curlers.

Fucking cute, like the granddaughter she raised.

The granddaughter she’s clearly as worried about as I am.

“You got her?” she asks when I nod in greeting and start for the light shining in the front room of Claire’s apartment. We’ve been alternating nights when the team is in town—one here to keep an eye on Gran, one at my place—but it doesn’t matter where we lay our heads.

Claire’s still not sleeping through the night.

“I have her,” I say. “You on backup duty?”

Her mouth twitches. “I think you’ll be fine.” A squeeze to my arm. “Just keep pushing at those walls, and she’ll eventually get out of her own head enough to talk to you.”

I nod and make sure she makes it back into her bedroom safely. We have a big day tomorrow and though she’s moving around well from what I’ve seen—the best in years, according to Claire—there’s a frailty that makes me nervous, especially now that she’ll be moving back to her place, the flood repair on her basement complete.

Maybe I can convince her and Claire both to move into my house.

Keep them under my watchful eye.

Make sure my woman sleeps and Gran’s safe. Make sure there are sunflowers on the counter and the creamer Gran likes is always stocked in my fridge and that she has someone to keep her company.

The plan is already forming in my head as I move out of the hall.

I may not convince either of them anytime soon, but God knows I’ve learned that putting in the effort is always worth it—especially with these women.

But that’s the long game.

The short term priority is coaxing Claire, who’s sitting next to the dark window, staring up at the starlit sky, a steaming cup of tea in her hand.

I carefully slip it from her grasp and set it on the table in front of her.

“Sweetheart,” I murmur. “You should be sleeping.”

“I can’t.”

“Come on.” I put my hand out. “Let’s try.”

She shakes her head, picks up her tea, avoiding my eyes and whispering into the mug. “How’d Luc know to have you on standby?”

Oh shit.

“Wh-what?”

She looks up and I don’t miss the accusation in her eyes. My stomach clenches. “The other day in his office, when I was saying goodbye to the guys, how did Luc know I’d need you?”

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