Page 27 of My Knight

I wanted to protest. I wanted to pretend I could stay up and keep processing it all. But I couldn’t. I was worn out.

I stood up and stretched carefully as sore muscles pulled and ached. “I’m just gonna change.”

I walked into the bathroom and closed the door behind me. It was quiet in there except for the white noise of the small fan humming above. I peeled out of my clothes and pulled on a pair of black sleep shorts and a fitted black tank top. I brushed my teeth slowly and watched myself in the mirror. I looked… tired. But a little lighter, somehow. Knowing the truth, even if it was terrifying, gave me some kind of strange peace.

I ran the brush through my hair, then turned off the light and padded back into the bedroom.

The lights were out. The TV was off. Pirate was under the covers.

“No movie?” I asked and paused near the edge of the mattress.

“Nah,” he said, his voice thick with sleep. “Sick of hearing it.”

I smiled, even though he couldn’t see it. “Fair.”

I slid under the covers and sighed. The sheets were warm. The room was quiet.

“This is nice,” I whispered once I was settled.

I was on my side, facing him. He was lying flat on his back, and his breathing was steady. The faintest glow from outside the window filtered into the room, just enough for me to see the outline of his chest. I could make out pieces of the tattoos that inked across his skin.

“Sometimes peace and quiet is all you need,” he murmured.

My eyelids were heavy. I shut my eyes and exhaled slowly. “I have to agree. It was nice having everyone in the room today, but I was glad when they all left.”

Pirate chuckled softly. The low rumble of it was like thunder far off in the distance.

“Couldn’t have said it better myself, baby.”

I smiled into the dark and let the sound of his breathing lull me.

In. Out. In. Out.

Soft and even.

Warm and steady.

The room faded, and I let the quiet wrap around me like a blanket.

Chapter Ten

Pirate

I woke up to quiet.

Not the soft kind, not the peaceful kind. The kind that makes every nerve sit up and pay attention.

Something wasn’t right.

My hand moved instinctively, reaching for warmth beside me—but all I felt were tangled sheets and the cool dip of an empty mattress. I jackknifed up, and my chest tightened before my brain could fully catch up.

Saylor wasn’t in bed.

The blanket was still messy next to me, sheets twisted, her pillow slightly indented where her head had rested. She hadn’t been gone long, but she was gone.

My eyes darted to the bathroom. The door was open. The light was off.

“Shit,” I muttered, and threw the covers off.

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