Page 51 of Swept for Forever
I hadn’t planned to sit.
But when she’d asked me to stay, something in me folded, not out of guilt or duty. This wasn’t about owing her. It was about…her. And the way her voice cracked just enough to prove she didn’t want to need this.
So I sat. Right at the edge of the bed.
And I thought about it, her request. I’d been running it through every angle. My idiot heart said it meant something while my pragmatic brain filed it under adrenaline, trauma, and proximity. A body reaching for another because being alone was worse.
She shifted, still half-propped on the pillows. I helped her ease down, careful with her shoulder. She didn’t say thank you; she didn’t need to. The way she melted into the sheets was enough.
“Good night, Autumn,” I murmured.
“Night, Dom. Thank you for everything.”
Ah, she said it anyway.
“You bet.”
She was asleep by the time I finished adjusting the cornerof the blanket. Her breath went soft in a way that said something had finally stopped hurting.
Lulu, ever the opportunist, climbed up, claimed the sliver of space at Autumn’s side, and pressed close, her chin tucked on her thigh.
I stayed but didn’t lie down. I just kept watch, one hand resting on my knee, the other rubbing inches from Autumn’s shoulder. Close, but not quite touching.
“You’re lucky to have her,” I muttered to Lulu.
The image from the trail stayed with me—her grit, her fire, the intensity in her eyes. In that moment, I wasn’t just some guy who happened to show up.
“And by the way,” I whispered to my canine companion, “how’d you end up with those ears? You part fennec fox or did someone stretch you out in the wash?”
Lulu looked offended.
“All right, all right,” I relented. “You’re a dog. Nothing else. Case closed.”
I leaned back just a little, enough to ease the pressure on my spine. Autumn didn’t stir.
She was still out.
I glanced at Lulu. She was watching me through one cracked eye.
“You’re not gonna repeat this, are you?” I asked her in a whisper.
The mutt didn’t respond, obviously, which I took as consent.
“She’s got guts. More than most people I know. I mean, look at her.” My voice dropped, almost reverent. “She got speared, dislocated her shoulder, and still managed to sass me on that slope.”
Lulu gave a little sigh and tucked her snout closer to Autumn.
“Lucky for her,” I murmured, “I didn’t mind difficult cases.”
I scratched at my jaw.
“Thing is…” I glanced at Autumn again. She was breathing serenely, still not listening. “She deserves someone who doesn’t come with a filing cabinet of no-strings flings and emotional negligence.”
Lulu huffed. Hard to tell if it was agreement or judgment.
“She could have any guy she wanted. Some golden boy with a trust fund and a six-pack. Not some has-been attorney who talks to dogs like they’re licensed therapists.”
“Dom…”
