Page 120 of Out for Blood
I cover his hand with mine.
“I’m right here.”
His smile is small, real.
The kind reserved only for me.
“Then come home with me.”
He nudges me toward the car.
“Get in before you catch pneumonia.”
For the first time all night, I laugh, and it’s honest and unguarded.
“You know that’s not how pneumonia works.”
“Get in the car, killer.”
Still smiling, I climb inside.
A moment later Tyler slides into the driver’s seat.
When he turns the car on, the windshield wipers automatically begin moving back and forth. He doesn’t waste any time turning around and heading to our home.
As we pull away from the woods together, the first hint of sunrise begins to break across the horizon.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
I wake to the unmistakable reminder of yesterday lodged in every muscle in my body.
The aftermath of last night, a dull ache stretching from my shoulders all the way down to my calves.
I pry one eye open and instantly regret it, a groan leaving me as stiffness flares, my body protesting the movement.
Early morning light slips through the bedroom windows washing everything, including the rumpled sheets and tangled blankets around us, in a honey gold that feels far too cheerful for the state I am in.
I cry out as I roll onto my back.
Every inch of me feels like a truck used me as a speed bump more than once.
Which, considering all the events that took place on top of running through rain-soaked woods, wrestling Tyler in the mud, and staying awake until nearly sunrise, isn’t entirely inaccurate.
A smile pulls at my lips. Instead of giving into it, I turn my head.
Next to me, Tyler is still asleep.
That alone is enough to make me pause.
His arm is draped over my waist, hisface buried into the pillow. Dark hair falls across his forehead, and he’s snoring peacefully. It’s a rare sight.
For a moment, I simply regard him. His face is unusually serene; stripped of the stress and worry he carries, not at all burdened.
Normally he’s awake before me. He can’t sit still so he’s always working and planning.
Last night replays behind my eyes in fractured pieces, rain soaking through my clothes, mud splashing up our legs, his laughter wrapping around me like a lifeline in the dark. But more than anything, I remember the way he kept reaching for me with every touch, he needed the reassurance that I was still there just as much as I needed him.
The contrast hits me so hard it almost hurts.
