Page 85 of The Casting Couch

I didn’t want to.

I wanted to ask a thousand questions.Wanted to confess things I hadn’t even told myself yet.Wanted to beg him to keep holding me until I believed I was worth it.

But I said nothing.

I just tucked my face into his chest, felt his fingers stroking my hair again, and let the weight of him beside me anchor me to something that felt real.

ChapterTwenty

Nico

Iwoke up with Bradley in my arms and immediately knew this was it.

This was the happiest I’d ever been.

Not the kind of happiness you blast from a rooftop or write songs about.Nothing loud or cinematic.Just this gentle, steady hum in my chest.A warmth that radiated from where his back was pressed against my chest, like my body had found a puzzle piece it didn’t know was missing.

He was still asleep, breathing soft and slow, one of his hands curled beneath his chin like a kid hiding from a bad dream.And I didn’t move.Wouldn’t dare.Like if I so much as shifted, the moment would break.

I’m not used to this.Caring for someone else.

I’m the funny guy.The crowd-pleaser.The snarky bastard with punchlines for blood and sarcasm for skin.I don’t let people in.I don’t let them stay.My humor’s always been armor.Sharp, shiny, and loud enough to distract people from what hid underneath.

But with Bradley, the armor didn’t work.

He saw right through it.Hell, he walked right past it like it wasn’t even there.He cried in my arms last night like I was someone worth trusting.Worth leaning on.And instead of freezing or joking or making it weird, I just… held him.Because I wanted to.

God help me, I care about him.

I ran my thumb gently along his side, just under the hem of his shirt.His skin was soft there.Warm.He murmured something in his sleep and shifted, but didn’t pull away.Didn’t tense up.If anything, he relaxed more.

And I swear to God, that single tiny movement made something inside me come undone.

How the hell did this happen?How did I fall for the one guy in the world more broken than I am?

My phone buzzed on the nightstand, breaking the spell.

I winced, reached for it slowly so I wouldn’t wake him.

A text from Liam:

Is Bradley with you?We’ve been trying to get a hold of him but he’s not returning our texts.

Of course.

I sighed and glanced at the man asleep next to me.I didn’t want this moment to end.Didn’t want to share him.Not yet.Just a few more minutes of stillness.Of not thinking about rent or work or whatever fresh crisis was probably being cooked up at Boys On Film.

But I knew Bradley needed the money.Hell, he needed the hope of the money.

So I kissed the back of his head gently and whispered, “Hey, babe.Liam’s trying to get a hold of you.”

He stirred, groaned, and blinked up at me through a curtain of hair.

“Probably about work,” I added.“Where’s your phone?”

He blinked.“I don’t know.Maybe on your couch?”

I handed him my phone.“Just use mine.”

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