Page 65 of Unbreak Me

Day smiled under his breath.

"And he did."

"Eventually, yeah."

When we got back to the tree nursery, both dogs immediately ran up to greet us.

Seeing them, Day muttered,

"You should lock them in their kennels at night. I saw a movie once about a burglar who killed the dogs before breaking into the house. They shouldn’t be left to guard the outside."

I glanced at him thoughtfully, debating whether to comment on his grim scenario, but I decided not to ruin his mood. "I will lock them in at night. They’ll be safe."

We went inside. It was late, close to midnight.

Day headed upstairs to take a shower, while I used the bathroom on the first floor.

When I climbed the stairs to head to my bedroom, I stopped in my tracks.

Day was just entering the doorway to my room, carrying an armful of pillows, blankets, and fabric strips.

Now, that was an unexpected but quite a welcome sight. I hesitated, then quietly backed away to give him some privacy for nesting.

Feeling almost euphoric, I went back downstairs. Day wanted to enter my space—felt ready! He was going to nest on my bed… That was a great, wonderful change.

Walking around the kitchen, I couldn’t stop grinning. Finally, I grabbed a quick snack and even gave Milky and Fuzz an extra helping of food since they were very insistent—and I felt pretty elated.

Finally, I could sense—almost instinctively—that it was a good moment to go upstairs again.

I went up quietly, holding my breath, and stood in the doorway of my bedroom.

Day was sitting on the bed, surrounded by a simple but cozy two-person nest made of blankets and pillows in soft, soothing colors. He looked up at me as I stepped in. He was wearing just a tank top, which showed off his bare shoulders, and a pair of boxers.

Slowly, I climbed onto the bed and cautiously slipped into the nest. At first, Day seemed a little distracted, as if he were still caught up in the trance of the nesting process, but it didn’t take long for his focus to switch back to me.

A long silence hung between us, and I could feel the energy shifting. It was subtle at first, almost as though I were tuned into his nervous system.

Everything began to change gradually. His heartbeat picked up, his breathing got deeper, and his small hand rose up, touched me lightly, then slid higher along my arm until it rested against the side of my neck.

That touch—a hand placed there—was considered deeply intimate, reserved only for those in a close relationship. A wave of joy washed over me, knowing that, in a way, Day was affirming what we had together.

He slowly lifted his head. His cheeks were pink due to the pre-heat phase. His gaze met mine, and in that instant, I knew exactly what he wanted. He didn’t need to say it—I could sense it. He wanted me to kiss him, make out with him, touch him. This semi-telepathic connection was puzzling.

Was this the right time to bring it up? No. So, instead of talking, I leaned in toward his waiting lips and kissed them. They were soft, warm, and inviting.

When we broke apart briefly, catching our breath, Day leaned his head back slightly and, with a voice that sounded different, spoke, "I want to be touched again."

I was about to bring up how far he was open-and-willing to go this time, to make sure I had his full approval, but decided that might spoil the romantic mood. Maybe Day's approach of not talking too much about sex was better? Perhaps it was healthier to just go with the energy.

Then, Day slowly removed his hair tie and sank into the pillows.

I watched him, not knowing what to expect because the emotions he was feeling were too complicated for my level of focus.

Most of my blood had already rushed downward, leaving my head a bit fuzzy. Still, the fact that I had access to his emotions at all was surprising enough.

I propped myself up on one elbow. The silence was growing intense, and a faint blush appeared on his face as I brushed my fingers along the line of his cheek and jaw.

"I just want to feel good. It helps me not think about all that stuff," he whispered, his voice trailing off.

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