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“Thanks—wait, month?” I stuttered. “You think I’m going to stay here for a month? With you?”

“I don’t have any idea how long it will take us to find your attacker, but it takes a solid forty minutes to drive into town, so it’s not something we do every day. It’s better to be prepared.”

“All right.”

I moved down the hallway, taking a quick peek in the bathroom before reaching the bedroom. The door was wide open, so I stepped inside, and⁠—

It was definitely Seb’s bedroom. A book and his reading glasses on the nightstand. The hamper in the corner full of his worn clothing. Running shoes peeking out of the half-open closet. I stepped back into the hallway, looking first right and then left. And then right again, because holy shit, this couldn’t be happening, and left one more time, just to be really, really sure.

There was no other door.

There was no other bedroom.

This cabin was too small for secrets. I saw everything far too clearly. One bedroom. One ex-husband.

“Sebastian.” My voice was surprisingly even and calm, considering I was having an internal meltdown. “There’s only one bed.”

5

SEB

In retrospect, I probably should have told her it was a one-bedroom situation straight away, when I informed her she’d be staying with me. No other options made sense. It took me a millisecond to consider and discard all of them. The couch was too small. The floor was too hard. A hotel or cabin that kept her more than three feet from me was out of the question.

At the hospital, I wasn’t in the mood for her to fight me on sharing a bed, like I was a stranger or a mosquito. Hell, I wasn’t in the mood for it now. It made my chest ache.

With a sigh, I tossed a package of Gruyère onto the counter, shut the refrigerator, and shifted to face her.

“I’m not sleeping on the couch,” I told her, because we needed to be clear on that. “I’m a grown-ass man.”

“That never crossed my mind. How would you even fit?”

She sounded entirely too reasonable. It must be a trap. I braced my hands on the countertop between us and leaned over it. “I’m not sleeping on the floor, either.”

“Not at your advanced age,” she agreed sweetly.

“Now that’s just mean. I’m only two years older than you. If I’m too old for the floor, then so are you. Not to mention you’re injured.” My eyes narrowed on her. “You weren’t seriously thinking I’d let you take the couch, were you? Because if you thought for one second⁠—”

“Relax, Sebastian.”

Damn. Sebastian. The sucker punch hurt just as bad the second time around.

“It was half a second, tops,” she continued. “I had myself a nice little freak out for approximately two seconds and considered sleeping on the couch for only a fraction of that.”

“So what’s your solution, then?” There was only one option left, and I was fully prepared to veto her finding another cabin, even if it meant tying her to the headboard until she came to her senses.

She placed her hands on the counter, mimicking my position. “The obvious one. We share the bed.”

“Oh.” I pulled back slightly, studying her. “I thought you’d put up more of a fight.”

“Well, I considered it, as I told you. But then I remembered, been there, fucked that. Whatever.” She dismissed the best sex of my life with a disinterested flick of her wrist.

Jesus. That was the meanest thing she’d said yet. Just punch me in the nuts next time, why don’t you.

Pivoting to the knife block, I muttered over my shoulder, “Good. So we’re on the same page.”

“That sharing a bed isn’t a big deal because we’re no longer horny twenty-somethings who can’t keep their hands off each other? Yes, we’re on the same page.”

I had to take a second to breathe. I remembered what it had been like before her accident. The way we couldn’t get enough of each other. Finger fucking her under a table at a restaurant. Tearing off each other’s clothes the second we made it past our front door—and sometimes we didn’t even make it that far. Sliding back inside her after we’d finished because I already missed her warmth.