Page 27 of Protected from Malice
“Nope.” The corner of his mouth quirks. “I was just laying there, playing a trivia game on my phone.”
As he shifts on the bed, his shirt rises, revealing a flash of black hidden beneath it.
His gun.
And that’s why he wasn’t sleeping. Not because he was playing one of those trivia apps he likes so much, but because he was keeping watch.
Staying awake to protect me while I slept.
Guilt crashes into me.
Yes, I know the guys were trained in the Army to get by on very little sleep. But Rafe’s forty now. Not old, not even close, and honestly, he looks more in shape than most twenty-somethings I’ve met, but surely he needs more sleep than he did back then.
Crap, I’m thirty-four andIfeel like a dishrag that’s been crumpled up and put away wet when I get less than six hours of sleep.
“I’m sorry,” I repeat. “I didn’t think. But you need sleep, too. I can stay awake just in case someone tries to come in. Not that I think anyone will. And with the security you added, I’m sure?—”
“Are you kidding me?” Rafe shoots me a look of disbelief. “Do you honestly think I’d go to sleep while you sit up, jumping every time you hear someone in the hallway? Every time you hear a door shut in the parking lot? Have to wakemeup because you think someone is trying to break in?”
Well.
When he puts it that way.
“I guess not,” I reply softly. “I just feel bad. You came all the way out here, after a job, no less, and you’re not even at my house before… you know. And now you’re laying on the floor, on a carpet that looks like it hasn’t been cleaned in years…”
Casting a quick glance at the aforementioned carpet, I crinkle my nose in distaste. “I was going to make you dinner, and I had the guest room all set up, and I even got Trivial Pursuit out if you wanted to play before bed. And now we’re here. You’re here. Stuck sleeping—wait,notsleeping—on the floor while you babysit me.”
Rafe stares at me for several seconds before speaking. Intensity burns in his eyes. “First, donotfeel bad. About any of it. I want to be here. Shit, I wish I’d gotten here sooner. But that’s on me. Not you.”
“If I’d explained more…”
“No.” Rafe’s big hand comes around mine, engulfing it in reassuring warmth. His lightly calloused fingers brush against my skin, setting off tiny bursts of fire. “I should have asked more questions. As soon as you said you were worried, I should have hopped on a red-eye instead of waiting until the next morning. I should have insisted?—”
His mouth snaps shut. A frustrated sigh huffs out. “Anyway. Do not feel bad, Eden. I mean it. As for the nightmare…” Concern darkens his eyes, turning one dark chocolate and the other a deep evergreen. “Have you been having them ever since this whole thing started?”
My stomach flips.
“Not really,” I hedge. “Maybe one or two small ones. Nothing like this.”
I’m not technically lying. The nightmares I’ve had over the past month haven’t been that bad. Scary, yes. But nothing I couldn’t deal with. I’d just watch cooking videos on my phone—baking seemed to be the most soothing—until I fell back asleep.
But tonight?
I haven’t had a whopper like that in almost a year.
Rafe’s eyebrows shoot up, his skepticism abundantly clear.
My cheeks go hot.
“Eden,” Rafe starts. His voice is gently scolding. “I feel like there’s something you’re not telling me.”
A heavy cloak of guilt settles over me.
I shouldn’t be keeping anything from Rafe. Not when he dropped everything to come out to Portland to help me. When he agreed to keep it a secret from Indy—his best friend—just because I asked him to. When he put himself in danger to protect me, and now he’s not-sleeping on the gross hotel carpet that probably hasn’t been steam cleaned in over a decade.
I should tell him everything.
But.
