The Treble With Men (Scorned Women's Society #2) - Piper Sheldon Page 0,55

of letting her sweat it out, I said. “No. Privacy and all that.”

“Right. Of course.” She let out a breath and looked so boneless she might need carrying up to her room.

The image of her asleep in my arms again tightened my chest with something like longing. I recalled holding her like that before, how trusting and innocent she’d been in her sleep. It was a far cry from her uncontrollable giggling a minute ago, or the Kim that challenged Wes at dinner.

“Hey, remember when you morphed into a praying mantis and yelled like one of those screaming goats?”

“I remember.” I flared my nostrils.

“Good times.” She yawned again.

“Praying mantis?” I asked.

“Yeah,” she said. “When you jumped. Your arms sort of tucked up like this.” She mimicked what I thought looked a lot more like a Tyrannosaurus Rex.

“It was a real hoot,” I said flatly.

After a minute, she sighed and looked around. “I’d be scared all the time if I lived in this big house all alone.”

“It’s not so bad.” My chest tightened. There were times, more recently, that the emptiness of this house got to me. I’d imagine what it might be like to sit by the fire with somebody. Or hear the soft hums of another person in the next room. But it was my choice to be here. I was happy being alone.

This time, her yawn was so big her jaw cracked.

“You need to go to bed,” I said.

“I know.” She didn’t move from the wall. She scratched her nose, a stall tactic I was beginning to recognize when she debated whether or not to say something. “I just—I had some rough nights in rehab, where I was alone and I dunno …”

“You aren’t alone,” I said. “But neither of us are asleep.”

“True. Can I ask a favor? And can you just agree to it without hearing it?”

“No,” I said instantly.

“Pleeeease?” She dragged out the word.

“I’ll never agree to anything without hearing it first. That’s how people end up with a tattoo of a platypus on their ass.”

“I feel like there’s a story there. We’ll circle back to that later.” As she spoke, she thumbed the worn fabric on the knee of her sweatpants—my sweatpants. “I just don’t want to sleep alone.”

If she didn’t want to sleep alone that meant … “Uh,” was all I managed.

“It’s not that I’m scared.”

“You said that already,” I said.

“I just don’t want to be alone in my room. Don’t read anything into it.”

“Okay.” I swallowed.

“I can sleep on your floor?”

“My floor?” my voice cracked.

“I’m sorry. I know this is weird.”

“It’s not weird. I just—” Boundaries, boundaries, boundaries. She was taking a blow torch to all the walls holding our roles in place. I had to tell her no. I had to be strong. Lightning flashed again and her whole body tensed. She was exhausted. I was exhausted. There was really only one way to ensure we both got sleep.

Five minutes later, Kim and I stood at the side of my bed, staring down at the king-size with equal looks of hesitation.

“Okay.” Kim broke the tension first. “We could let this be awkward, but let’s be honest, we’re both so far past that point that it would serve no purpose. It’s a sleepover and we’re both so tired.”

“And the bed is a king,” I added. “I could build a wall of pillows.”

“I’m about to pass out face-first on this bed. You could probably give me that platypus ass tattoo and I wouldn’t even wake up. Let’s not worry about pointless walls.”

I cleared my throat, not thinking about her ass. Nope. I said, “Me too.”

We both got under the sheets. What did she think of my room? It was unadorned. A giant bed in the middle of a giant room that I fell into every so often. More often, I slept on the couch downstairs in the studio. No personal touches decorated the walls or sat on the dresser. Just bare. But the bed, at least, had top-of-the-line, high thread count sheets that felt like butter. Before I turned off the light, I caught her nestling deeper into the sheets with a soft smile on her face. A rumble of thunder, farther off now, didn’t even disturb her.

“Why do you hate being alone?” I asked in a low whisper.

“Why do you love being alone?” she murmured in a slurred voice.

Being alone wasn’t something I actively chose. It just happened that way. Years of people showing their true natures. Not knowing who to trust. Traveling.