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Sometime later, I sit up on the couch, wide awake, mouth ajar, ready to scream. It’s still dark out. I can’t have been asleep long — I never sleep well after I’ve had something to drink. For a second, even though I know where I am, all the stress from the day and the fact that I’m waking up in an unfamiliar location that also is a nearly vacant home, fear flashes through me and I stand up. Adrenaline pulses through me and I’m ready to run, or scream, or scratch someone’s eyes out. Memories of a nightmare, powerful enough to terrify me, but ephemeral enough that they’re already fading into nothingness, tingle in my body.
“Be easy, Em.” Hunter’s voice immediately makes my fists unclench and my heart still.
“Where are you?”
The house is totally dark, and I can barely see the couch I’m standing next to. It must be cloudy out. There’s no starlight, no moonlight, and hardly any light from the streetlamps outside.
A small lamp springs to life and I see Hunter sprawled out on the floor, a rolled-up jacket resting behind his head serving as a pillow.
“Right here. You good? You looked like you were having a nightmare.”
Just the word sends memories racing through my mind; I was having a nightmare. Jay had me trapped in a dark alley. It was daytime. There were tons of people walking by just outside the alley, but no matter how loud I screamed, no one even turned to look. The sound of his wicked laughter as he backed me up a brick wall roils my body.
“Maybe.”
“Anything you want to talk about?”
“It’s nothing. I don’t remember. Just a vague impression that something’s wrong.”
“I know all about those.”
“From the military?” I say. I know it may not be right to ask him about his time in the service, but I just really want to hear his voice right now.
“Something like that.”
His tone is so heavy that in brings down silence between us, and for a while, I just retake my place on the couch and notice the distance between us.
“So you’re really going to just sleep on the floor like that?” I say.
“Planning on it. I’ve slept in worse places, and being here, I’m close to Charlie in case he needs anything,” Hunter says, nodding his head toward the open doorway from the living room, through which I can see Charlie’s crib. “Though to be honest, ever since you came around, he sleeps well. Mostly through the night. Loves to wake up just before dawn though, but I don’t mind the hours. It’s about when I wake up, anyway. Old habits die hard and all that.”
“You don’t have anything better to sleep on, though?”
“There’s just the one bed, and not even that, really, because the bed is actually a couch.”
“You can have it. You’re hurt, and you shouldn’t be sleeping on the floor.”
Hunter shakes his head, a small smile playing at his lips. "I'm not taking your bed, Emily. You're my guest.”
"But you're injured," I protest, gesturing to his freshly stitched wound.
He chuckles softly. "Trust me, I've had worse. This is nothing."
I bite my lip, torn between insisting he take the couch and not wanting to push too hard. Then an idea strikes me, one that sends a thrill of excitement and nervousness through my body.
"We could... share?" I suggest, my voice barely above a whisper.
Hunter's eyes lock onto mine, and I see a flicker of something — desire, hesitation, conflict — pass through them. For a moment, I think he might agree, and my heart races at the thought of lying next to him, feeling the heat of his body...
But then he shakes his head again, his voice gentle but firm. "That's not a good idea, Em."
I try to hide my disappointment, but I know he sees it flash across my face. He sits up, wincing slightly as the movement pulls at his stitches.
"You’re my son’s babysitter. You’re younger than I am, by a fair bit, without getting into numbers. And my life… it’s complicated beyond just being a single dad living in a vacant house and sleeping on the floor with a knife wound in my gut.”
“But…” I want to summon an argument, something that will convince him. For one, he really shouldn’t be sleeping on the floor. For another, I want him beside me.
