Page 64 of A Not So Merry Rescue
Exhaustion layers her face, but it’s no wonder. We got little—if any—sleep last night, and no doubt her meltdown took an emotional toll on her body.
I hate to wake her, but she needs to sleep in a bed.Mybed.
I nudge her shoulder. “Willa, let’s get you in bed.”
She rouses slowly, her eyes blinking, zeroing in on me. “Sorry. Was more tired than I realized.”
“Not a problem. You can watch the ending tomorrow.”
She nods, her eyes catching on something in the corner of the room.
The lighted tree.
I couldn’t help flicking the switch after she fell asleep. I needed the fix, like an addict with drugs. Even if only a bit of a high. My body relaxed immediately. Tension rolled off in waves, and I felt like I could fully take a breath. It’s not all from the tree. The heaviness of Willa’s story took its toll on me, too.
“Shit, sorry. Let me turn it off.”
Willa grabs my wrist. “It’s okay.” She winces as she says the words, though the statement is genuine.
“They have to go off anyway at bedtime.” Soon as I clean up the cake and mugs and lock the doors, I’m turning in, too. Another big day of prepping and working tomorrow.
She sits on the couch, her eyes still adjusting to the light from the TV, her legs tucked into her chest. “Will you, um, lay with me, until I fall asleep? I don’t want to be alone tonight.”
Should I be giving in to her every request? No.
Will it stop me? Also no.
My decision isn’t only for her, but I don’t have the brainpower to unpack all of what it means. Perhaps I don’t want to.
“You got it. I’ll lock up and meet you in there.”
Her smile is small but grateful.
What I wouldn’t give to see more of her smiles. More expressive ones. I sense I haven’t seen Willa experiencing pure joy.
After sending her on the way to my bedroom, I load the dessert dishes in the dishwasher, turn off the lights on the tree, and make sure all the doors are locked. I plug in my phone next to the couch, confirming the alarm’s set.
Joining Willa in the bedroom, I find her tucked into my bed—on my side—her tired eyes tracking my movements. She holds up the comforter, inviting me under. I can’t refuse.
Just until she falls asleep, then I’ll move to the couch.
A shrill noise wakes me from a peaceful slumber.
“Make it stop,” the woman in my arms grumbles.
I take a minute to realize what the noise is and why Willa’s in my bed.
Or rather, why I’m in bed with her. Not that I’m complaining. Best night’s sleep I’ve had in a while. Having her in my arms isn’t a hardship.
Except I have to take care of the deafening noise first.
Reluctantly, I climb out from the warmth of the bed, leaving her there. I shuffle to the living room, turning off the phone’s alarm.
I left it out here thinking I’d be sleeping on the couch. Instead, I fell asleep with her.
I don’t regret it even a little.
It’s earlier than I need to get up, but if I climb back into bed, I won’t want to leave it.
