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She giggled again and pulled my covers up to her chin, making herself right at home in my bed. “Depends on what day it is and how bad my hair got messed up during work. Is it a deep conditioning day? Hair mask day? Full wash day?”
“I should probably stop making potions with them, then, ’cause that sounds expensive,” I teased and gently laid down beside her. When I propped my head up on my hand, she rolled sideways and narrowed her gaze.
“How old are you?” she teased.
“You already know that answer.”
A gentle smile spread across her lips, but she didn’t say anything. Here she was, curled up in my bed, finding comfort with me. Eventually this would fade, the fear and nausea that she must be experiencing would be replaced with reality, but for the time being, she was the comfort and solace that I wanted, and it seemed that’s what I was for her as well.
“You can stay as long as you need, Goldie,” I whispered and reached forward, gently brushing her cheek. As if a live wire had connected with my skin, a current rippled along my forearm, landing deep within my stomach.
“I’ll go back to not liking you later,” she replied, her voice quivering and soft.
“That’s fine.”
“Thank you, by the way,” Briar added as I joined her under the sheets.
“For what?” I reached forward and pulled her into my body. She should’ve protested; I had expected at least some tension from my touch, but there was none to be had. Instead, she cradled her arms against my bare chest and closed her eyes.
“Protecting me.” Her warm breath danced like a feather against my skin, flushing me hot with butterflies and drowning out the dull ache humming in my head.
For her—always.
What a delicate soul this fiery woman was. Wound tightly in the chains of innocent desire and fear that kept her running from the river of death following her, her life was more convoluted than a normal person’s life should’ve been.
I didn’t answer as light snores eventually met my ears, her thin figure shifting even tighter into me.
Finally, as her body heat blended with mine, my eyes drooped heavily. Sleep was knocking at the door, ready to take me away from all of the uncertainty and confusion that this life held.
Blissful ignorance in a dreamworld that would include Briar was awaiting me, edging nearer and nearer as the distant sounds of wood settling quieted and the animals outside my home mewling faded away. All that was left was Briar’s heavy breathing.
Her chest rose and fell rhythmically against my body. With each gentle movement my own soul intertwined tighter with her fate, closer toward whatever Russian Roulette game we were playing.
There really was a high possibility that the drunk driver wasn’t as accidental as the police had made it seem, especially considering the timing of Wayde’s text. This also led me to the possible conclusion that he knew where Briar was and where she had been this entire time. There wasn’t any evidence to back it up, but something in my gut told me not to underestimate this guy.
Knuckles rapping aggressively on my side door snapped my eyes open just before I found peace.
Briar groaned and shifted within my arms, then she fell still as the pounding grew.
“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” I grumbled quietly, annoyed that someone would interrupt my snuggling with Briar.
As carefully as possible, I slid my arms out from around her and padded silently out of the bedroom. The fervency of the knocking increased substantially as I crossed my kitchen floor and finally threw open the door to my house.
“Dad?” My brows furrowed as I blinked away the dizziness from my rapid movement. “What are you doing here?”
My father, breathing heavily, leaned against the doorframe and wiped some sweat from his forehead. “Everyone’s headed to the hospital. Tenley went into labor, but there’s been some complications,” he explained, gasping for air.
“What? Is she… Is the baby…?” I couldn’t form the words as my father shook his head.
“We don’t know, son,” he muttered and ran his fingers through his disheveled, dark hair.
“Let me go wake Briar and—”
“No,” he said with an urgency in his voice.
Stepping back, I caught myself on the edge of the bench beside the door and steadied my swaying body. “N-No? I should be there for Weston. I need—”
“No, Cassidy. He needs you here. I know it’s a lot to ask because of the concussion, but you’ve gotta step back up as his foreman and make sure chores are taken care of while he’s at the hospital.” My father’s voice was stern, yet it cracked on the word foreman.
