Page 22 of A Fighting Chance

“Sorry for what?” he asks, and it occurs to me that I don’t know.

“I have no idea, actually. It’s just what people say,” I sass, shrugging my shoulders.

“Don’t apologize unless you have something to apologize for. Apologies lose their value when given so freely,” he says.

I stare at him, my head starting to swim a little.

How strong was that drink?

Maybe I didn’t eat enough at dinner.

“What are you, some kind of farm philosopher and poet?” I ask.

He laughs and says, “Nothing so official, no.”

I lay my head to the side and stare at him. I feel a yawn and try to talk through it. “Maybe I should go back to my room now,” I say, my eyes becoming heavier by the second.

“If you want,” he says.

But I can barely hear him or see him. My eyes are shutting, and I’m powerless against how warm and comfortable and relaxed I am.

He whispers, “Let me get you a blanket.”

But I protest. The last thing I say—or the last thing I remember saying—is, “No, just stay with me. Stay right here with me.”

Then, I drift off and have the most fulfilling sleep I’ve had in years.

Eight

Lyla

I wake slowly,one eye at a time.

This doesn’t feel like my bed.

I don’t feel alone.

I shift slightly and the arm around my midsection tightens. Warm breath is on the back of my neck and I’m sunken into a giant bean bag chair.

It’s all coming back now.

I blink the sleep from my eyes and look around. The fire is still going, low and steady. The sun is beginning to peek through the curtains, just a sliver through the middle and from the edges. The room is hazy.

It must be early.

“Gentry?” I whisper, and I feel him stir behind me. We’re spooning, his large body cradling my smaller one. I rub my forehead. “Gentry, wake up.” I shift, trying to get him to wake.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” he asks, sleep in his voice.

I can’t see his face, but I’d venture to guess he hasn’t even opened his eyes.

I press my fingers into my eye sockets, trying to remember. And I do. I remember. I remember asking him to stay. I asked him to lie with me.

NO.

I did. I asked him.

“Oh my god,” I huff. Then he breathes into my hair and I feel a sensation run down my spine. “No, this is not good, this is so bad, I’m so sorry.”

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