Chapter 50 My Sweatshirt – Koen
MY SWEATSHIRT
KOEN
Now
I wake with the first rays of sunlight. I start to push myself up but freeze when I’m met with resistance—a dark-haired girl asleep on my chest.
Briar.
Not wanting to wake her, I slowly relax my shoulders back down to the mattress, all but holding my breath until I confirm she’s still out cold.
Her cheek is snuggled into my chest, one of her legs curls around mine, the other pressed close. She’s clinging to me like her life depends on it. And maybe it does, since it’s fucking freezing in here.
I eye the window, making sure I didn’t accidentally leave it open last night when I climbed in, frowning when I find it shut tight. With my uninjured arm, I slowly reach down to pull the blankets up so she’s fully covered.
I just barely remember waking at some point in the middle of the night, Briar’s shivers sending little tremors through the mattress. She was curled in on herself; her skin was as cold as ice when I touched her. I didn’t think twice before dragging her body against mine.
With the blankets fully around her shoulders, my arm wraps back around her, holding her to me. I’m instantly conscious of the way her arm is draped so casually across my torso. Her fingers falling right atop my lower abdomen, lightly brushing my skin as I shift around.
Briar’s breath catches and her fingers curl into my skin, sending a shockwave of warmth radiating throughout my lower body. I stiffen, and she stirs further with the movement.
I should wake her up. Move her off of me and get on with my day. There’s so much shit to work out after everything that went down last night. But looking down at her, she looks so peaceful in her sleep. The usual tension missing from her beautiful face.
My breathing steadies and I keep it even. Lifting my hand, I run a couple of my fingers through the silky strands of her dark hair.
Her body goes tense with the contact, but she lets out a soft sigh, relaxing back into sleep once again.
Fuck. What was I thinking coming here? Last night was a shit show in every way possible. We knew the Russians had set a trap, but that hadn’t stopped Aidan from walking into it anyway. Seeing as how it was his girl on the line, I guess I can’t blame him.
He got out. Rory was safe. Everybody was safe. But when everything was going down, my first thought was her.
Briar.
That’s probably how I ended up outside her apartment, climbing her fire escape, watching like I’d done every night for the past two weeks.
Making sure she was okay. And maybe it was the blood loss, but I just couldn’t stop myself from slipping my knife into the crack in her window, freeing the lock and going inside.
It wasn’t enough just to watch from outside. I needed to see her. I wanted to—
I just wanted to see her.
My eyes trail over to my other shoulder.
The warmth from Briar’s body and her sweet jasmine scent are a distraction, but overall the wound doesn’t hurt all that much.
The bandage Briar had wrapped so carefully is still white and clean; it doesn’t look like the wound is going to need stitches after all.
Briar’s breathing hitches and I feel her stiffen, her eyelids fluttering.
I close my eyes, wanting to see what it is she’ll do when she wakes up on my chest.
All at once, Briar goes unnaturally still. She’s holding her breath before she ever-so-carefully attempts to untangle herself from me.
I relax my right arm, letting it fall heavy, setting a deliberate trap.
Smiling to myself at the existential crisis Briar goes through on my chest, as she tries to work out how to escape the weight of my arm without waking me, only realizing too late there’s no way out.
I decide to put her out of her misery. “Think you can get away that easily?”
“You’re awake.” Shocked blue eyes peer up at me, searching mine.
“Mhm.” I just look down at her. “Have been—for a while now.”
Her brows knit together and her head tilts to the side in the most adorable way. “Then why—?” At the same time, she seems to notice how very much attached to me she is and launches herself away, nearly falling off the other end of the bed like it’s on fire.
She would have too, if I hadn’t rocketed forward, grabbing hold of her arm just before she goes over.
For a moment, we just stare at each other.
“You looked comfortable.” I shrug like it’s no big deal, dropping her arm once I’m sure she’s scooted her ass a safe distance back onto the mattress.
She pushes herself up, the comforter falling away and revealing the tiny pair of shorts she wore to bed last night.
Her body jolts from the shock of the cold air.
“It’s fucking freezing in here,” I tell her. Briar tucks her arms into herself before crawling out of the bed in search of more clothing. My eyes trail her. “Don’t you have heat?”
She winces. I catch it right before she tries to hide it, quickly smoothing out her face. “Consistently?” Her tone rises an octave as she tries to play this off. “No,” she admits, reluctantly, when I dip my chin. “It goes out sometimes.”
My eyes narrow on her, sensing the lie. “Sometimes?”
She winces again, but this time it’s harder to hide.
“Okay, fine,” she huffs. “It goes out more than it doesn’t.” She shrugs like it’s no big deal.
Well that pisses me off. “What the fuck?” I sit up fully now. It’s December. Why the fuck is her heat not consistently working?
She makes a run for her dresser across the room. Quickly grabbing a pair of sweat pants from the bottom drawer, she refuses to make eye contact with me while she drags them on over her shorts.
“Why don’t you call your landlord?” I’m on my feet, too, searching her bedroom floor for my shirt.
She snorts and I glare at her, confused as to how she can find any of this funny. She’s still refusing to look my way, finger combing her hair into a low ponytail. “What makes you think I haven’t?”
I frown, finding my blood soaked tee from last night and picking it up off the floor. “How long has this been an issue?”
Her face sours, which is answer enough. She starts chewing her bottom lip, finally turning to face me. Her eyes drop to the now dried blood staining the t-shirt I hold in my hands.
“You can’t wear that.” She frowns. “Hold on.” Twisting, she starts in a few different directions before changing her mind and rushing back to the side of her bed. I watch as she tears through the covers before dragging out a dark sweatshirt from underneath her pillow.
My sweatshirt.
She tosses it at me without looking. I catch it before it hits my face. “From the other night—I uh, I laundered it.”
“Uh-huh.” My jaw works and I try not to smile, looking down at the mess of pillows on the bed.
“Will you just get dressed already?” She paces lightly by the window, still trying to avoid looking at me.
Unable to keep the smirk from my face, I drag the sweatshirt over my head. Noticing the faintest trace of jasmine within the threads.
Some of the tension ebbs out of her body once I’m covered up, and she levels me a glare when she catches me staring.
“What?” she snaps, and I shake my head.
“Nothing.”
She rolls her eyes, and my dick twitches in my jeans, thinking about what she would do if I threw her down on the mattress right now.
My phone buzzes and she’s saved. For now.
My jaw tightens as I read over the incoming text from Reagan. She holds half the blame for last night’s catastrophe, thanks to her running off. The endless string of apologies she’s firing at me are proof she knows it, too.
I swipe out of the message thread without replying. I’ll deal with her later.
Briar, once again, catches my gaze, and anger burns through me when I realize I can see her breath on the cold air.
I sigh, shooting off a message in the group thread I have with my brothers.
“Pack a bag.”
Briar’s face snaps to mine before looking around the tiny room like I could be talking to anyone else. “What? Why?”
I eye her over the phone, typing one more thing into it. “It’s like thirty fucking degrees in here, Briar. You’re not staying in this apartment.”
She backs up a step, shaking her head.
“I don’t—that’s not—”
“I believe we agreed you would do whatever I say.”
“I don’t know that this qualifies,” she mutters, folding her arms across her chest.
My eyes flick up for a second to meet hers before dropping back to my screen.
“It qualifies.”
Her mouth opens and shuts, and my lips twitch at the internal war she’s busy fighting.
“You can pack a bag, or you can wear nothing.” My eyes sparkle when her eyes narrow into slits, glaring at me.
“Your choice, Briar Rose.”