Page 73 of Alive At Night

“Come here,” he repeated. “Put your head on my chest.”

“On your chest?”

Did he think that would help me sleep? I had very little confidence that would be the case.

“Yes.” Exasperation touched his voice. “Like you did when we were in the office and you practically fell asleep standing up.”

“You had a shirt on then.”

That felt very necessary to point out.

Julian chuckled. It was hard to see his face in the cloaked, dark room, but I could just make out the trace of a smile on his lips.

“You’re very stuck on this no-shirt thing,” he said, his voice low. “I can put one back on if you need me to.”

Need, not want.

It was like he knew that I very muchwantedto see him without a shirt, but I very muchneededhim to be wearing clothes so I could function normally.

But I didn’t need to confirm that thinking for him. So I shook my head.

“No, it’s fine.”

“Then what are you waiting for?”

I paused, holding my breath because I refused to let him hear it. I knew that sounded ridiculous, but if he heard my breath and how it kept coming quicker, he’d hear other parts of me, too. Parts I didn’t want him to know about.

I had to remind myself that this was the caretaking version of Julian. This was Julian beingnice, playing his part. This was Julian doing what I’d asked him to do and nothing more.

As soon as I started to scoot closer to him, Julian lifted his arm, beckoning me to curl up beneath it. Cuddling. We were cuddling. His skin was warm to the touch as I rested my head on his chest and placed my hand awkwardly beside it, trying not to consciously notice how hard of a pillow he was.

Like so many of our other ideas in the past weeks, this was a bad one. I doubted I’d ever be able to fall asleep in this position, not while I couldn’t help but count every single one of Julian’s breaths as his chest rose and fell beneath me. As I settled into him, wiggling until I found a comfortable spot on my side, they seemed quick, shallow. Then they slowed.

My breathing did the opposite. Because the arm I’d snuck beneath curled around me, caging me in before Julian’s fingers started stroking my hair. First lightly. Then more confidently, threading through my damp strands like a massage. It was more soothing than I wanted to admit, and my heavy eyelids drifted shut.

“You smell different,” he muttered. “Like mint.”

It took me a moment to find my voice. “I used the hotel’s shampoo and conditioner and didn’t reapply my perfume. You’re welcome.”

Julian didn’t say anything, continuing to play with my hair. I felt myself melting into him, that slow awareness that sleep had a partial grip on you. Reality and dreams mixed. I couldn’t be sure if it was real or in my head, but I thought I felt something press against the top of my head.

And I thought I heard words that didn’t make sense.

“You know, I think I like the flowers better.”

ten years ago

“You’re going to stay out of trouble when I leave for college, right?”

Julian’s eyes burned into mine.

“Wouldn’t want anything to happen to my girls when I’m not around,” he added.

“Nothing is going to happen to your sisters,” I said dryly, crossing my arms over my chest.

Julian looked at me oddly, his suddenly dark gaze wandering over my face.

And for some reason, I held my breath, waiting to see what he was thinking.

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