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“What are you doing?” My voice is very small.
“Lying down with you.”
He settles onto his side, his front to my back, just close enough that I can feel the warmth of him behind me.
I stay where I am for a moment. Then, before thinking too much about it because thinking hurts, I shift until my spine meets his chest.
One arm comes up carefully, resting along the pillow above my head, and his other hand finds my hair. Light. Slow. Just a soft drag of fingers through it, over and over, like he’s not thinking about it either.
It feels so good I could cry.
My throat closes.
Because Fox has just done the exact thing a partner would do. Not a hookup. Not a friend with benefits. A partner. A person who lies down behind you when you have a migraine and strokes your hair without being asked.
I have never had this.
I didn’t know I wanted it until this exact second, and now that I do, the wanting is so big it has nowhere to go except into my chest, where it sits like a stone.
I don’t cry, but only barely.
The pain in my head is still there, but it’s already backing off. My shoulders drop by degrees and the vise around my chest loosens.
I fall asleep with Fox curled behind me, his hand in my hair, both of us silent and fully clothed.
It’s the deepest sleep I’ve had in weeks.
CHAPTER TEN
FOX
“You look familiar.”
I laugh into my scarf, which is currently covering most of my chin.
“I get that a lot.”
The woman behind the bakery counter narrows her eyes at me. She’s in her fifties, wearing an apron over a flannel shirt, her graying hair pinned up with what looks like a pencil.
“Sure I haven’t seen you in here before?”
“Positive. First time. Just passing through.”
She studies me for a second, and I brace for the follow-up.
“Well,” she says finally. “Maybe you’ve got one of those faces, right? What can I get you?”
“Whatever you recommend. And a large coffee, black.”
“You want the cardamom bun. Fresh out of the oven twenty minutes ago. It’ll change your life.”
“Then I’ll have the life-changing cardamom bun.”
“Good man.”
She turns to the coffee maker. I pull out my wallet and finally take a breath.
I’ve been to Burlington maybe six times. Every time, it was for a show, a meeting, or a stopover on the way to Winterberry.
