Page 27 of Fixing to Be Mine

“You’re perfect,” he tells me, and I know he means it. “The perfect person for you wouldn’t ask you to sacrifice anything.”

My cheeks go crimson.

He steps closer, not touching me, but close enough to make it clear he could. I breathe him in. Colt is steady and dangerous in all the right ways.

“I can’t fall in love. It would only complicate my life.”

“Then don’t.” His expression doesn’t falter. “All I’m askin’ is for you to stop running from something that could be real good for you, even if it’s only temporary. No expectations.”

“Okay,” I whisper and pause for a few seconds. “But what if I want there to be expectations at some point?”

He chews on the inside of his cheek, grinning. “That’s easy. You stay.”

I stare at him and wonder how he believes I’m the perfect one when he says things like that with such ease and confidence.

“And what if you want me to go?”

His eyes soften around the edges. “I don’t and won’t.”

“How can you be so positive?”

“Because when you know, you know.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

COLT

Ican’t sleep. Not after the way she said my name. Not after how she looked at me in my shirt like she wasn’t sure whether to kiss me or run. I gave her space, watched her pull away with her arms crossed like a barrier, her breath tight in her chest.

After her shower, I cooked steaks and potatoes, we ate, then we went our separate ways.

I lie on the couch, staring at the ceiling, listening to the sounds the house makes. The floorboards groan like they know better, and the air conditioner hums low when it kicks on. And the silence that follows the day we had together? It presses in on me.

As I’m drifting, I hear something, and it’s enough to make me sit up straight on the couch. It’s followed by another broken sound, the kind that doesn’t belong in a dream, unless it’s the bad kind.

I’m standing before my brain catches up to my body. The floor’s cool under my feet as I step into the hallway. The walls in here are freshly hung with smooth seams ready for paint. I follow the sound and hesitate outside of the bedroom with onehand lifted. Then I hear her again. It’s soft and choked, words that are desperate and too close to a cry.

I don’t knock; I open the door, careful not to startle her. Moonlight filters through the creamy curtains, casting a glow across the tangled sheets she’s twisted in. Her limbs are tight, chest rising in uneven bursts, like she’s running in her sleep.

“No,” she mumbles, head shaking. “Skye. Why? Why?”

My heart stutters.

“Hey,” I say softly, moving to her side. “It’s a dream. You’re okay.”

She jerks once, shoulders tense, but she doesn’t wake.

I sit on the edge of the bed, placing a hand on her arm, and her skin is clammy.

“Sunny, hey.” I brush her hair from her face and try again. “You’re safe.”

She startles hard this time, sits up, gasping like she’s been underwater. Her eyes are wide, wild, like she doesn’t recognize where she is.

“It’s me,” I offer. “Colt Valentine. You’re in my house, remember?”

She blinks at me like she’s still sorting the dream from reality. Her chest rises and falls in sharp, ragged waves.

“Breathe,” I say, holding her gaze. “Breathe with me, all right?”

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