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I wasn’t sure what he heard other than me being a total bitch to him after I found out everyone in my life whom I’d once trusted lied to me. But that didn’t explain why he was in bed with me.
“Easton—”
“I heard you crying.”
Ohmigod.
My eyelids drifted closed as if by doing that I could block out the mortification.
“The walls are thin,” he went on quietly. “Heard you. Waited. Then I couldn’t take it and came in here. When I got into bed with you, you quieted.”
Okay that wasn’t mortifying, that was mortification times a thousand.
“You had a rough day.” He made an easy excuse for my mental breakdown and sobbing fest.
Rough didn’t cover finding out you were living a big, fat lie.
But I didn’t correct him.
“Tomorrow’s gonna be a long day. Try and get some more sleep, yeah?”
Easton was still murmuring softly. If I was in my right mind, and not trapped in the fog of having him so close touching me I would’ve contemplated his kindness. He was being gentle with me after I’d been nothing but a royal bitch to him since I’d found him in my hotel room. I’d lost count of how many times I’d told him he was a dick or called him an asshole. Yet, there he was in bed with me, offering me comfort as my world shattered apart. He’d heard me crying and came to me after I’d been nothing but ugly.
I needed to apologize.
I should’ve told him I appreciated his kindness but I was fine, and let him off the hook so he could go back to his own bed.
But my voice caught in my throat.
It had been many, many years—so many of them, they could be measured in decades since I’d felt… well, safe. Not in the physical sense but emotionally. I hadn’t been allowed to have an honest, emotional reaction in so long I didn’t know what to do with how I was feeling. Nor did I know how to allow myself to feel it.
Since I couldn’t speak, I nodded.
Easton’s fingers gave my neck another squeeze before his hand slid to the side, down my shoulder, arm, and finally rested on my hip.
I was still in my loose linen pants and cream button-up shirt. My hair was still twisted up into a messy bun though I figured it was now messier than it was when I’d pulled it up that morning. I’d already kicked off the ballet flats I’d worn that day when I first crawled into the bed.
All of that to point out I was fully dressed and I assumed Easton was as well.
Yet, I’d never felt more naked in my whole life.
THIRTEEN
I knew Nebraska was awake before consciousness hit her and she stiffened in my arms. At some point late into the night or early morning depending on how you looked at it, she’d turned, pressed her head into my throat, and cuddled close. That meant right then as she was coming fully awake Nebraska’s cheek was resting high on my pec, her right arm trapped between us, her left over my hip, and to round that out my arm was holding her close.
To stop her from rolling away I slid my hand from her hip to her lower back and kept her pinned to me.
“I know you’re awake,” I told her.
Her already stiff body turned to stone.
“Nebraska?”
Still nothing. No movement. Not even a breath.
“Baby?” I pressed my hand deeper.
Finally she blew out a breath and admitted on a whisper, “I don’t know what to say.”
