that there were resolutions that could be found. A way of beating not my daytime reliance on hearing aids, I’ll have that for the rest of my life, but something to make me able to sleep at night without either suffering discomfort or rendering me vulnerable.
A problem without solution is an insurmountable weight. If ways around it were possible, then it’s one more thing to fight. And fighting is what I’m made for.
The food filling my empty belly and the comforting presence of Road have left me feeling easier than at any time over the past two days. Until he went and brought my issues to the fore.
“Bed. Come on, you’re dead on your feet.”
Immediately, panic floods through me. Last time I laid down and closed my eyes, I thought I was safe. I’d had confidence in all the technology surrounding me. Nothing could get me when I was wrapped up in my cocoon. I’d been wrong, so dreadfully, horribly wrong. Now I’m missing a finger to prove it.
But I’m not in my house. I’m safe here on the compound. My impending panic attack doesn’t agree.
I’m not alone, I tell myself firmly. Road will be sleeping along the corridor, if the electricity fails, he’ll awake, won’t he?
What if he’s a deep sleeper and doesn’t hear? What if the painkillers the doctor suggested he take render him to sleep so soundly, he doesn’t hear anyone coming to take me away? My PTSD is in full flow.
Pip will have dealt with Kincaid. There’s no one coming after me.
But there might be.
I can’t go to bed.
I try to compose the expression on my face and to suppress yet another yawn I feel coming. I know there’s a tremble in my voice as I offer an excuse. “Pip and the others aren’t back yet. They’ll want a debrief when they are.” It’s a good reason to put off going to bed a little longer. I sway a little. Even with the meal I’ve just eaten, I feel lightheaded. I see Road’s face tighten, and he opens his mouth, probably to point out the obvious that I’m dead on my feet, but luckily, we’re interrupted.
“Road, Swift. Got these. Sorry about the wait.”
I turn to take the paper sacks from the pharmacy off of the prospect, who, having completed his task, walks away.
At that moment my phone pings with a text. It’s from Pip. I read it, “Cleanup is going to take a while. We’ll be back late. Church in the morning.” Damn.
Well, nothing for it, but to go and get my head down. I can do this. But instead of getting my feet moving, I start trembling.
It’s an electronic system. The locks are failsafe. They’ll unlock if there’s a fire alarm and someone could get in.
Road’s sharp eyes miss nothing. I could lie to him, but I find that I can’t, so I answer his questioning look by wrapping my arms around myself and telling him the truth. “I’m scared, Road. Even here,” I indicate the clubhouse around me, “I don’t feel safe.”
He heaves a deep sigh. “I’m aching and sore, Swift. I just want to get a good night’s sleep and you need one too.”
I’m keeping him from his rest. But there could be a solution, though I hesitate to suggest it. “Will you, will you sleep with me, Road?” The question comes out of my mouth without me thinking about implications or what he’ll think I’m offering. Part of me wants to snatch the words back, but if I’m going to get any rest tonight, maybe fucking Road won’t be too high of a price to pay. At least it will relax me, and we can deal with any fallout when we’re refreshed.
“Swift, it kills me to think of you all alone, unable to switch off and relax, when it’s clear you need sleep. I’ll stay in your room. I was going to suggest it.”
We make the upward trip in the elevator again. When the doors open, he does something totally unexpected. He holds out his hand.
It’s big, calloused, showing not only does he do the job of a manager, but he must also work on his bike. For a moment, I simply stare at it. How long has it been since I took a man’s hand? Apart from that of my father, I’m not sure I ever have. I’ve always been a tomboy, the girl who gave off a self-sufficient vibe. But here, now, it seems more natural to take it, to