Heartland (True North #7) - Sarina Bowen Page 0,47

into sleep.

It’s such a sweet sound that my eyes feel prickly. The heat of his body seeps into mine. I want to roll over and take more of it. I want to mold myself to his sturdy body and breathe his woodsy scent.

But that’s not allowed. And this is all I will ever have—friendship and the ache of wanting more.

It takes me a long time to fall asleep.

The next time I open my eyes, I’m startled to find the wall only inches from my nose.

I’m even more startled to realize that Dylan’s body is shifting sleepily against my back. All of it. A hard chest and long legs. And even a hard—

His body detaches from mine in an instant, leaving cool air in its wake. Behind me, the mattress unweights as he rolls off the bed. There’s a clunk and then a mumbled curse as Dylan trips across the small room and clicks off my desk lamp.

The power must have come on in the night. It’s early morning, judging by the gray light that’s just starting to filter in through my window.

Dylan opens my bedroom door, propping something against it, because it doesn’t close all the way after he leaves. I hear a toilet flush, and then water running for a while.

I roll over as he comes through the door in his underwear and a T-shirt.

I look away quickly, instead of appreciating the way those boxer briefs lie so snugly against his strong thighs.

He sits down on the edge of the bed. “Did you sleep?” he asks in a roughened voice.

“Yeah. You?”

“Mostly. Christ, it’s cold in here. I think the power just came back on.”

“What time is it?”

Dylan is a farmer, so he looks at the sky instead of at a clock. “Almost seven? So it’s that pivotal hour when the choice is between sleep and coffee. The dining hall doesn’t open for another hour, though, because it’s a holiday.” He leans back against my bed and sighs.

Awake now, I scramble around him and visit the bathroom to brush my teeth. Too late, I realize I should have brought some clothes into the bathroom with me. Dylan is probably putting on his jeans right now, because it really is freezing in here.

But when I get back to my room, he’s lying in my bed, the covers pulled up to his chin. When he spots me in the doorway, he moves toward the wall to make room.

There’s no way I could fall asleep again. Not with my squirrel brain running in circles, wondering whether I’ve completely ruined Dylan’s trust in me just so I could spend a few Friday evenings with him.

In spite of my worries, I can’t resist the chance to be close to him. So I kick his backpack out of the way of the door and let it fall shut. Then I climb into the bed.

We’re lying on our backs again, contemplating the gray ceiling at dawn. Dylan doesn’t seem to be falling asleep. He’s quiet in the way a man is when he’s thinking.

“I just have one question,” he says eventually. “Why did you do it?”

“Why did I…lie?”

“Yeah. Was it because Fridays were for Kaitlyn? You wanted to make her mad?”

“Yes,” I whisper after a beat. It really is that simple.

“Because she was such a bitch sometimes?”

“Sometimes?” I repeat, my blood beginning to simmer. I know I’m in the wrong, here. But Kaitlyn just brings out the worst in me.

He snorts. “Fine. I get it.”

“Do you?” I squeak. I’m suddenly so angry. “She was horrible to me since the moment I met her. She was rude to Rickie and Keith. She was manipulative of you. And you never called her on it. Why is that? You don’t let other people run over you.”

“I dunno,” he mutters.

His non-answer just makes me crazier. “I’m sorry, I don’t buy that. You do know. You just don’t want to say it. I lied about Fridays. And I am sorry. But now you’re lying, too. You put up with her because she’s very pretty. And you wanted her in your bed.”

The mattress shakes gently as Dylan laughs. “Yeah, I already admitted that. Fine. I let her treat me a little shitty, because I didn’t care that much that we weren’t really a good match. But I’m sorry I let her treat my friends badly. She didn’t give you that message, right? When you were waiting in the library?”

“No,” I grumble. “She didn’t. But that’s just the most obvious example. She loved rubbing

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