Page 8 of Gideon's Gratitude

My guest’s left brow arched again.

Impressive how he managed. Anytime I tried, my face just looked pained.

“This appears to be the primary bedroom.”

“It is.”

“Well, I certainly cannot take the primary suite. Perhaps you have a spare room?”

“Not with adult-sized beds.”

I uttered the words under my breath, but apparently he caught the words as that lovely eyebrow shot up yet again.

“I was planning to sleep on the couch. It’s quite comfortable.” Would wreak havoc on my back, but it’d be a small price to pay. I had company. If only for the night. I’d take whatever I could get—I was just that lonely.And desperate for company.

“Well, I certainly cannot displace you. If you could point me in the direction of said couch—”

“You’re too big.”

“I beg your pardon?” He sputtered.

Heat crept into my cheeks. “I mean you’re too tall.” I stooped over to pick up the dirty sheets. “Please take this room and leave it for now. We can talk in the morning.” After bending over, I had a headache to match the backache.

Lovely.

I stepped to Archer. “Please let me pass.”

Our gazes held. The overhead lamp in my bedroom emitted little light, but I could make out his beautiful eyes. Eyes narrowed in distaste.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he nodded. “As you wish.” He stepped aside.

I scurried past. I tossed the linens into the basket for dirty laundry and was about to hide in the bathroom.Shit. “I just need to grab my pajamas.”

He again stood to the side.

My cheeks remained hot as I pulled out the flannel Superman set. The kids had picked it out for me for Christmas two years ago, and I wore it to stay close to them. I probably had a staid pair of plaid here somewhere, but time was passing, and with each additional second, my nerves ratcheted up further.

Archer said nothing as I slid past him. Probably not worth commenting on. I went into the bathroom, shut the door, and let out the breath I’d been pretty much holding since my guest startled me.

Phew.

I changed into my pajamas and did everything else necessary for my evening routine. The battery-operated clock read barely eight, but with the power out, I didn’t want to use any more electronics, such as my television and, frankly, exhaustion had set in.

I flipped off the lights and opened the bathroom door. The door to the primary bedroom was closed and, after a pause, I moved on. I creptdown the stairs to the family room. Sure, I might’ve been able to sleep on one of the kids’ beds, but I didn’t have the emotional strength to do that tonight. Those rooms remained closed off. I couldn’t face the acute loss that overwhelmed me each time I stepped in. The optimism that’d carried me through the decorating and preparation had long turned to despair as reality set in.

You’re probably never going to see them again.

Never was a strong word, but given Leo’s fierce protection of our children, and my lack of a legal leg to stand on, it truly looked like my children were beyond my reach.

When I entered the room, Lucky lifted his head.

“Right.” I rubbed my hands. “Quick pee, my friend, and then we’re hunkering down for the night.” Often I read before bed, but tonight I’d forgo even that. Something told me that I’d be out quickly once I actually laid my head down.

Lucky chuffed as he rose. He strolled over to the front door.

I shook my head and pointed to the back of the house.

My dog sighed and headed in that direction. At the laundry room, I snagged the extendable leash. He glared.

---