Page 117 of The Bodyguard's Fall

I was fighting back tears as I motioned toward Tate. “I’ve turned his whole world upside down. I’m just a big nuisance.”

She patted my hand and smiled at me—the kind of smile full of motherly wisdom and sweetness. “Oh, I do think you’ve been a nuisance to him. But not the kind you’re thinking.”

Surprisingly, sleep came easy that night.

Probably because Tate crawled in beside me. He hadn’t asked. Before he lifted the covers, he shot me a look, almost daring me to refuse him. But I hadn’t made a fuss. I just appreciated the quiet comfort of his body next to mine, though he was careful not to touch me.

Sometime later in the night, I sat up in bed, pushing the hair back from my face, and glanced around, confused. I had been warm, and now I was cold. I looked around, disoriented in the dark only for a moment before I spotted Tate sitting on the side of the bed, both hands gripping the sheets at his sides.

He was quiet, careful, but I could hear his slow, methodical, calming breaths almost like he was trying to bring himself down from something.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

His deep breathing stopped as he glanced at me.

There was a pause before he said, “Yeah.”

The air between us had an unnatural feel to it. A stiffness. Like I had interrupted something that I wasn’t meant to see.

He stood suddenly. “Sorry. I’m good. Go back to sleep,” he mumbled over his shoulder before striding out of the room.

I lay back down, though sleep was now the furthest thing from my mind. I needed to see if he was okay. But if he had any inkling that I was going to make him talk about this, I had the feeling he’d sleep on the floor outside my door before he’d come back inside. So I covered myself with the blanket, closed my eyes, and waited.

Ten minutes later, the door opened quietly, and Tate slid back inside. I watched through narrow slits in my eyes as he eased himself back down on the bed. There was an oscillating fan above us, blowing a slight breeze throughout the room. The air grew heavy with silence. Though I was stiff as a board, my thoughts were loud as I lay there trying to figure out how to bring up⁠—

“You don’t sleep on your back, faker. You’re embarrassing yourself,” came his low voice.

A reluctant grin peeped out across my face as I rolled onto my side, facing him.

“How do you know I don’t sleep on my back?”

“Because when I’m in here, you’re usually sprawled out all over me.”

“I am not.”

I gave his arm a push, the sound of his low chuckle washing over me in relief. We had ended the night so stiff and rigid that the teasing felt reassuring.

Though I generally kept to my own side, I wondered if I did disturb his sleep.

“Do I make it hard for you to sleep?” I asked. “Being here?”

He laughed under his breath.

“What?” I asked as he rubbed his eyes.

“That’s a hell of a question.”

“Did I wake you up?” I asked, my face flushing now. I hadn’t meant it the way he seemed to take it. I was very aware of how much I was putting this family out, Tate included, and if there was any way I could make it easier, I wanted to do it. For my own sanity.

He hesitated. “No.”

“Then what is it? Leroy? Coleson? Are you still worried about your job?”

When he didn’t say anything, I pressed on. “All of the above is an acceptable answer. A lot is happening in your life. So much that happened before I even got here. I’m sorry if I made it harder, or more stressful for you. Especially since you’ve just come from an intense situation…” I trailed off, unsure of what to say. Tate still said nothing.

I tried one last tactic, and put my hand on his shoulder. “Any husband of mine would want to pillow talk to his wife.”

If I wanted a reaction, that did it. Like he’d been burned at my touch, he shot out of bed and pointed at me, an exasperated edge to his manner.