Page 27 of The Savior

He snorted then cocked his head, staring as if she couldn’t be more oblivious. “I don’t need a damn pill, Chelsea.”

She matched his scowl. “Well, you need something.”

“Yeah.” He softened. “I do.”

Like sleep!But she bit her tongue—then she recalled how he’d rushed out the door. “Where did you go?”

His dark-green eyes shot to hers. The color intensified, almost as if he had so much to tell but couldn’t. “Nowhere.”

Lying eyes—that was what they were called. “All right then. You don’t need anything. You’ll sleep later, and you can’t recall where you went.” She pushed up from the couch. “Everything is obviously perfectly okay.”

He cracked his neck then returned to his vigilant study of the hallway and front door. “Obviously.”

She snatched her printouts and turned. “When you finally go to sleep, try to be a nicer person when you wake up. To you and everyone else.”

She stalked to the kitchen, frustrated that someone who seemed smart and acted tough couldn’t see that she wanted to help—and how she genuinely hurt for him.

“I can’t,” he muttered before she made it to the kitchen.

Chelsea stopped, surprised by his worried tone. She pivoted and leaned against the wall. “Why not?”

Liam looked like the poster boy for sleep deprivation. Cloudy eyes and a pallor that set off her internal alarm. “Tell me why.”

Remorse flickered across his face, though it was only a hint and was mostly hidden by shadows that fogged his eyes and cheeks. As much as she wished he’d share, she couldn’t make him. Trying would fail. She had enough of that right now. “Never mind. Don’t worry about it.”

“Good.”

Irritation pricked. She’d given up too quickly. She didn’t move. He didn’t acknowledge she remained, simply watching the door and hallway. What if he’d come up with some butternut bananas idea that he has to patrol the Nymans’ house?

The more she studied his alert-yet-exhausted stare, the more convinced she became that he was on a self-imposed patrol. She couldn’t understand his rationale, but she knew he desperately needed to sleep. “Liam, I can stay here,” she quietly offered.

His chin jerked up, and the greenness of his eyes reminded her of a dark forest hidden by a foreboding storm. Perhaps he’d think she was the crazy one. What she offered made no sense unless she’d guessed correctly. In a long silence, the semi-ridiculous offer remained on the table.

“I can watch,” she continued. “If you’re making sure they’re okay.” Chelsea gestured in the direction that led to Linda and Frank’s bedroom. “I’ll watch if you promise to sleep. Go take the guest room. Just throw my stuff to the side.”

Two small lines deepened between his eyebrows. “You think I’m cracking up?”

“Does it matter?”

He scrubbed his face with his hands, pushing his fingers into his thick hair. “You’re armed?”

His question worried her, and she would much rather be the one with a gun in the room. “Should I be?”

“If you want me to get some sleep,” he said.

“Give me a minute.” Even when she was off-duty, her service weapon wasn’t far away.

With his agreeing nod, Chelsea collected her gun, which was safely tucked in the guest bedroom, then thought about how long he would need to sleep. No fruit smoothies for her. Her icy-fruit jones would have to wait, and one day, Liam would owe her big time.

She snagged a granola bar from her purse to go along with the Glock 9mm handgun and wondered when Linda or Frank would wake up. “A gun and granola.” She headed back toward the living. “Not how I thought this day would go.”

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