“So what kept you awake? Old worries?” he asked, because he knew how long she’d struggled with them. “Or new ones?”
“Both.”
“Today probably didn’t help.”
He probably hadn’t helped. He just wasn’t sure how else he could have accomplished what they’d both needed for her to know. Yet while he’d been busy making sure she was aware of everything that needed to be done around the place to keep it up and how to take care of the problems she could expect, the weight of even more responsibility had piled on her shoulders.
“Today was actually a good day.” He and Tyler weren’t the only ones who’d thought so. “The worry part is just always there. It’s okay during the day when I’m busy, but at night...”
“You can’t shut it off,” he concluded for her.
“I managed for a few minutes tonight. But then it all came right back.”
“What was it about tonight that helped?”
She lifted her glance.
“You,” Rory said quietly. Of everything he had done for her in the past two days, everything he’d done in the weeks before, what he had done since yesterday had mattered to her the most. “You being here.”
Especially tonight, she thought. Tonight, for a while, anyway, because of him she’d been able to shut everything out and concentrate on nothing but the soothing sounds of the rain still pattering on the roof. Because he was there, because he had her back, because he had everything under control, for the first time in well over a year she’d had a day when she hadn’t had to make every decision on her own. She hadn’t had to worry about how she would get a tree home for her son, or get one out of her driveway. Or remove the one that had blocked the street. Because of him, they had heat and lights. And for that day, anyway, she hadn’t had to handle everything thrown at her alone.
Erik brushed the back of her hand with his thumb, conscious of the small weight of it where he held it on his thigh. The thought that he had somehow given her some measure of relief had just made it that much harder to let her go. Not until she was ready, anyway.
“Do you want to go downstairs?” he asked.
She met his eyes, looked away with a small shake of her head. “Not really.”
“Do you want to go back to Tyler’s room?”
Another small shake. “Not yet.”
“Are you cold?”
“A little.”
He knew what she needed even before he asked. He asked anyway. “Could you use a pair of arms?”
That was all he was offering. Just to hold her. This wasn’t about wanting her between her sheets. Heaven knew it wasn’t about self-protection. It was about giving her a break.
She didn’t have to say a word for him to know that his arms were exactly what she needed. But her quiet “Please” was all it took for him to rise and turn out the bathroom light. The night-light now filtering through the doorway cast the room in shadows.
“Come here,” he said, and tugged her to her feet.
Leading her to the side of the bed, he pulled the comforter over the sheets and propped both pillows against the headboard. He didn’t want her in the bed, just on it.
The distinction seemed just as clear to her as she snagged the wadded throw blanket from the foot of the bed and sat against the far pillow, hugging her arms around her knees when the mattress sank beneath his weight. With his back against his pillow he drew the throw over them both and pulled her knees toward him, his arm low around her back, his hand at the curve of her waist.
“How’s this?” he asked, coaxing her head to his shoulder.
He felt her sigh, the long, quiet leak of air leaving her nearly limp against the side of his body.
For a moment, Rory couldn’t say a word. She could barely believe she was actually where she had so badly wanted to be. It didn’t matter that his jeans felt rough against her bare calf, or that the contrast of his heat and the cool air against the back of her neck made her shiver. She could hear the heavy beat of his heart beneath her ear, could feel it where her hand rested on his hard, bare chest. It didn’t even matter that for some strange reason her throat had suddenly gone raw, making her quiet “Good” sound a little tight.
His chin brushed the top of her head as he settled himself more comfortably.
“Good,” he echoed, slowly skimming his hand over her upper arm.
She swallowed, then made herself take a deep, even breath. “Erik?” she finally said.
“Yeah?”
“Thank you.”
A tired smile entered his voice. “For holding you?” It was hardly a hardship, he thought. She felt wonderful curled up against him. Small, feminine, trusting. The only difficult part was trying not to think of how curvy she truly was with his hand at the dip of her waist, inches from the curve of her hip.
Wanting distraction, he smoothed his hand back up her arm. The herbal scent of her hair teased him, filling his lungs every time he breathed.
“For all of it. But yes.” Her tone grew muffled. “For this, too.”
He wasn’t sure what all she meant. It could have been anything. He just forgot to wonder what might have meant so much to her when he caught the hitch in her voice.
He started to tip up her chin.
She wouldn’t let him. Instead, he cupped his hand to the side of her face, brushed it with his thumb and caught the moisture gathered at the corner of her eye.
His heart gave a strange little squeeze. “Hey.” Don’t do that, he thought. He could handle anything but tears. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Honest,” she insisted, keeping her head right where it was. “Absolutely nothing is wrong.” She tried to draw a deep breath, made it halfway before it caught. Swallowing, she tried again. “For the first time in...forever,” she said, because that was how it felt, “right now there really isn’t a thing wrong.”
Which was what had brought the sting behind her eyelids, she realized. Not because of sadness, fear or grief. But because of an amazing, unfamiliar and totally unexpected sense of relief. She knew it wouldn’t last long. That it couldn’t. It was just for now. While he held her. So just for now, relief was what she felt.
“Then why tears?”
Because of what you let me feel, she thought. “Because I’m tired,” was easier to admit to him.
She felt his lips against the top of her head. “Then go to sleep.”
“I don’t want to.”
The slow shake of her head brushed her hair against his chest. Letting his fingers sift through that dark silk, he gave a small chuckle. “Why not?”
“Because I don’t want to miss you holding me.”
It had to be the hour, the lateness of it, the need for sleep himself. Or maybe it was his need to let her know he’d be there for her in the morning if she’d just let herself rest, but he didn’t question what he did as he slipped down, bringing her with him.
His lips grazed the spot on her cheek where they’d literally bumped heads that morning. “You shouldn’t say things like that.”
Turning her face to him, she whispered, “Why not?”
He’d been about to tell her to go to sleep, that he wasn’t going anywhere. But with her sweet breath filling his lungs, the feel of her supple little