Warning Track (Callahan Family #1) - Carrie Aarons Page 0,37

need for it to be over, to just take away my pride or knock me unconscious. Hayes’ voice coming from the distance, a tiny flicker of hope reignited. Chaos in the fight, blood and screaming, and my own wails which sounded foreign to my ears.

I have to shut my eyes against it all; the emotions hitting me like semi-trucks one after another.

The police were here, that much I can recall. I don’t remember the exact words I told them, but one of the female ones held my hand, told me I’d be okay after the shock and exhaustion wore off.

I didn’t feel okay. I doubted I ever would again.

My feet fall heavy as I climb out of bed, relieving myself and avoiding all the mirrors in my bathroom.

It’s not until I make my way out to the living room, with my open concept kitchen butting up against it, that I see a body on my couch. I jump, unable to curb the reaction, and I contain the scream that is about to rip from my throat. Will I ever be able to calmly be in another man’s presence again?

Although, this man is the one who saved me. I vaguely recall him saying he’d stay, that he wasn’t going to leave me until the morning light, but I’d either forgotten or not taken him on his word.

Hayes breathes softly, one arm draped over a naked torso, the other dangling off my couch. His bare feet are propped up over one end, his body far too large for the suede beige sectional that is still unbelievably oversized and comfortable. That rugged, handsome face is at rest, a neutral expression worn during his deep slumber. I watched it vacillate last night between fury, caring, and utter hopelessness at not being able to fix this for me.

My heart flutters a bit, the first time I’ve been able to feel in what feels like hours, at him staying the night on my couch. After the police left, I was almost in a stupor. Exhaustion had hit and shock had worn off, and I told Hayes that he should go, too. But something in my eyes must have stopped him, because he insisted on helping me get into bed.

The memories come back a little more vividly now that I am observing him in my environment; him walking me to my bedroom, turning on the lights, making himself scarce while I shed my tattered clothes and pulled on the first thing I could find to wear, a nightgown with a drawing of my favorite Jane Austen books in a stack. Hayes had been waiting by my bed with a glass of water and pulled back the sheets so I could climb in. I was nodding off before I could make out his words, but he must have told me he was staying the night.

It’s hard not to stare at the Goliath of a man dwarfing my couch, and the way his perfectly sculpted chest and abs rise and fall with each breath. There is a trail of hair, darker than the dirty blond locks splayed on a throw pillow, starting at his navel and disappearing under the belt of his jeans. My cheeks burn with … is that lust?

How the hell …

Hayes stirs and blinks his eyes open, clearly unaware of his surroundings. I try to make it look like I wasn’t watching him sleep, but it’s a lost cause and we’re already in this awkward place from everything we went through last night.

“Morning.” The gruffness in his voice causes me to rub my thighs together.

“Morning. Thanks for … staying. You really didn’t have to do that, but I appreciate it. Can I make you breakfast?” I both want to be alone, and don’t, and offering to do something nice for him seems like the courteous gesture.

Hayes sits up, twisting to crack his back, and then rolls his neck, which cracks, too. I feel even better about offering breakfast after witnessing that, because he just slept on my not-entirely-comfortable couch, at least not for a six and a half foot tall man. Leaning down, he grabs the T-shirt he had on last night, and pulls it over his head.

Is it terrible that I’m a bit sad when he puts the shirt back on? After the night I just had, the last thing I should be noticing is a man’s physique, but he’s got such a ridiculous one.

“No need to thank me. I hope you’re feeling a little