Chapter 21
Becca
There's no way I'm podcasting about this. I woke up next to Levi Barrett and felt so full of something I had absolutely no words for—which, if you know me at all, should tell you everything
The next morning felt like the aftermath of a storm that never actually hit—everything still standing, but rearranged in ways only I could see.
I woke before my alarm. For a moment, I didn’t move, just lay there in the quiet gray light, and then I remembered why the room felt different, and my heart did something immediate and embarrassing before I’d fully finished the thought.
Levi was still asleep. On his back, one arm at his side, breathing slow and even, completely unaware of the minor crisis happening twelve inches to his left.
I looked at him. Really looked, the way I hadn’t let myself do when he was awake and might catch me at it.
The line of his jaw was shadowed with a day’s worth of stubble.
The width of his shoulders took up space in my bed with a kind of easy authority that should not have been as devastating as it was.
The way sleep had smoothed everything careful and guarded out of his face and left something quieter underneath, something that looked like the boy I used to know before everything got complicated, and also, somehow, nothing like that boy at all.
I became very aware of how close we were. The warmth of him. The steady rise and fall of his chest. The fact that I could have reached out and touched him without fully extending my arm, a fact my hand appeared to be considering independently of the rest of me.
I pulled it back.
I was being ridiculous. I was a grown woman in her own bed, and I was lying completely still, trying not to breathe too loudly in case I woke him, which was, objectively, ridiculous. I’d known this man my entire life.
He shifted slightly in his sleep, just a small unconscious adjustment, and the back of his hand brushed mine where it lay on the blanket, and I stared at the ceiling and thought, with great clarity and considerable dismay, that I was in a tremendous amount of trouble.
I slipped out of bed carefully, not wanting to wake him, and padded to the small kitchen. The trailer creaked softly under my feet. Outside, Riverside Pines was still mostly quiet. I filled my electric kettle to fix a cup of tea because I was still out of freaking coffee.
I should have been tired. I should have been wrung out after everything—Matt sitting in the parking lot like a guard dog, the message from the unknown number, the conversation with Levi that had finally stopped being polite and started being honest. Instead, I felt oddly still.
Like something I had been dreading for a long time had finally been allowed to rest.
The mug warmed my hands while I stared out the window, watching the early light pool over gravel and pine needles.
I’d left my phone charging on the counter, and when the screen lit with a notification, I picked it up, trying to chase away the feeling of dread that hovered over me.
A text from Matt. He’d sent it at 4:47 a.m., which meant he hadn’t slept.
Matt: Check your email. I forwarded something. Don’t freak out.
I opened the email.
It was a screenshot—grainy, timestamped, the angle slightly off, the way security footage always looks when it’s capturing something it wasn’t specifically pointed at. The Stop he couldn’t do anything to me.
I turned when Levi stirred in the bed.
“Good morning.” His voice was deep, gravelly with sleep.
I set my mug down and moved to the bed, smoothing my sweatshirt automatically like I was about to be interviewed for something important.
His eyes flicked over me in a quick, assessing sweep that felt more protective than intrusive, like he was taking inventory without making me feel examined.
“Come here,” he said.
I sat next to him at the edge of the bed.
“You’re riding with me,” he said. It wasn’t a question.
My first instinct was to bristle on principle. My second instinct was to melt a little because he’d said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world that he’d take care of this before I had to ask.
“I was going to text Elizabeth,” I said, because I couldn’t let it be too easy. “I’m on her way.”
He lifted one brow. “You were going to inconvenience your boss before you were going to let me drive you.”
“I was going to solve my own problem,” I corrected.
His mouth curved faintly, not amused exactly, more like he’d expected that answer. “Right. And I’m going to drive you.”
There was something about his steadiness that made my resistance feel performative. Not because he was pushing too hard, but because he wasn’t wavering. He didn’t need to convince me. He was simply there, solid, dependable, and completely irresistible.
“You sleep good?” he asked.
“Yes, you’re very warm. Better than a blanket.”
He didn’t pretend that was enough. He didn’t pressure me either. He just nodded once, like he’d file it away and quietly compensate for it.
“And no more nightmares?” he asked, voice low.