Page 49 of Tender Heart
Can’t.
And there is no pillow wall or big king size here.
Light footsteps finally close in on the opposite side of the room and I swear she is muttering something under her breath. She reaches the bed, only to pace to the window. Iris’s pajamas on her are baggy, and the sleeve of the wide neckline has slipped off one shoulder already. The T-shirt is more like a tank, andshe is tugging it down as she looks out the window and over the harbor.
It’s pretty by moonlight. Nothing new to me.
Evie glances over her shoulder. Probably checking to see if I’m asleep. I tamp down a smile and wriggle to get more comfortable on my side. “You gonna sleep standing up?”
My gruff words see her turn back, her bottom lip pulled through her teeth as she worries herself over this whole situation.You and me both, girl.I don’t take on Mother Nature. Only idiots think they can outrun a storm on the water.
The thought burns brighter than I imagined it would.
“Be there in a bit,” she says softly, uncertainty lacing her words.
She turns back to the window and her hair falls over her shoulders, slipping from the rough, messy bun she had it wound up in. One elegant hand trails over her bare shoulder. My molars clench.
Closing my eyes, I think of anything else but the woman by the window.
Muttering something I can’t make out, Evie pads to the bed and climbs in under the covers. She lies still, the only sound in the room is her breathing mixing with the echo of mine. When she clears her throat and rolls over, I open my eyes and stare at the wall. Good. She should get some sleep.
We both should.
Tender fingertips press into my shoulder. “Cal?”
The way my breath hitches at that one syllable should be fucking illegal. “Yeah?” I manage to choke out as my body responds to the tiniest touch from her.
“Thank you for bringing me with you.”
This makes me roll over. “You were invited, Evie.”
Her eyes are burning as she studies my face. “I know, but...” She tucks the sheet around her like she’s shielding herself. “This is your family, your friend. I’m only passing through, aren’t I?”
Sucking in a breath, I tug at the sheet that’s now pressed up to her neck. “Why do you always do that?”
“Do what?” she breathes.
“Make yourself small. Hide. Apologize for existing.”
Her gaze turns into a tangle of fear and uncertainty. I fucking hate it. Resisting the craving to strip her bare and show her how incredible she is—that Iknowshe is—I close a hand around her hand gripping the sheet.
And to my surprise . . . she releases it.
“Hiding is safe,” she whispers.
The hell?
“From what, Evie?” My voice is gravel.
Her eyes snap away, her palm wandering over the sheet between us in random movement. “Life. People.”
Christ.
How can I blame her for thinking that? It’s a place I’ve dwelled in for so long.
“It will get better.” It’s all I can say. Not nearly enough. The undercurrent of grief sucks you down when you least expect it. I know this. She’s shaking her head, and silver swells below those beautiful browns.
Hell.
