Chapter 80
Ethan
My lungs fill on a sharp inhale, and my eyes open.
My heart is thudding, and I know a dream woke me, but I don’t remember what the dream was.
I exhale.
The smallest amount of light is coming in from the windows, letting me know it’s morning. But barely.
I blink. And I blink again.
Tilda’s face is inches from mine, her head sharing my pillow.
She came to me.
We started centered on our halves of the bed. But sometime in the night, Matilda came to me.
And our limbs are… entwined.
We’re on our sides facing each other.
One of her knees is between mine.
Our arms are tangled.
Her chin is resting on the backs of my fingers.
I focus on my body. On the pressure and warmth of every spot where we’re touching.
I don’t move my head. Don’t move at all. Don’t chance disturbing her.
Because I don’t have to see. I can feel her palm against my chest.
Over my heart.
I close my eyes. And I focus on the contact.
I focus on my Starlight.
On the way she makes me feel.
And with a smile tugging on the edge of my mouth, I let myself fall back into sleep.
Something hard slams into my nuts, and pain explodes through my body.
My lungs struggle to suck in oxygen.
What the fuck?
“Sorry! Oh my gods, I’m so sorry!” Tilda’s voice is scratchy with sleep. And very close.
I pry my eyes open as my balls continue to throb.
Tilda is staring back at me, eyes wide, lips pressed together. Shock and guilt and… humor are all over her face.
A small laugh pops out, and she slaps a hand over her mouth.
But our arms are still tangled together, so her sudden movement pulls my arm up. And still stunned and racked with the pain that only comes from smashing your nuts, I’m not able to stop the motion. I watch in horror as the back of my hand connects with the edge of Tilda’s jaw.
She lets out a squeak at the contact, and my heart disintegrates.
“Matilda. Fuck.” I yank my arm free of hers and roll her onto her back.
The leg she had between mine, the one that kneed me in the balls, gets caught in the blankets at the motion.
And then I remember her injuries.
“Feet! Fuck.” I’m up, pulling the blanket off the bed, before she can get caught up in it more. “I’m sorry. Are you…”
Laughter bursts through my bubble of panic, and I lift my gaze to Tilda’s face.
Her palms are pressed against her stomach. Her eyes are squeezed shut. And she’s not just laughing. She’s laughing.
Full-body shakes. Legs crossed. The kind of laughing that makes your eyes water and your stomach hurt.
The tension drops from my shoulders, and I heave out a breath. “Dammit, Matilda.”
She keeps laughing, but she pries her eyes open. “Sorry.” Her voice hiccups. “Sorry.”
I place my hands on my hips. “For laughing? Or for making me punch you in the face after you kneed me in the nuts?”
Tilda closes her eyes again as her laughter gets louder.
She waves her hand like she’s trying to apologize again but can’t form words.
I wait.
“Feet!” She tries to mimic my voice. “Fuck.” She tries. But she’s hardly able to breathe.
I shake my head. And wait her out.
“Sorry.” She snickers around the word, finally sounding like she means it.
“Is your chin okay?” I can’t join her humor until I know for sure that I didn’t hurt her.
Tilda wipes at her cheeks. “Man, I needed that.”
Tilda’s eyes are sparkling. Her purple hair is spread across the pillow. And she looks like a sleepy Mountain Fairy, napping in my cabin, wearing my clothes.
My Mountain Fairy.
I inhale as the memory of yesterday shimmers between us.
My wife.
I exhale. “Matilda. Did I hurt you?”
She shakes her head as she looks up at me. “Swear you didn’t. Barely grazed me.” She reaches up and runs her fingers along her jaw.
“Promise?”
Her smile is softer. “Promise. Didn’t hurt at all.”
I relax the rest of the way. “Good.”
Tilda’s smile turns into a grimace. “I’d ask if I hurt you, but I’m pretty sure I know the answer. I’m really sorry about that. Whatever I was dreaming about made me jerk myself awake and…” Her eyes drop to the front of my pants. “I would never hurt that on purpose. Sorry.”
That starts to stir at her attention. Previous pain forgotten. “I’m fine. I—”
Tilda’s stomach growls.
“Fuck.” I drag a hand down my face over the instant sense of failure that hits me. “I didn’t feed you last night.”
Tilda snickers again. “I’m not a lizard.”
I drop my hand. “What?”
“I’m not a pet you have to feed. I know where your backpack is with the food.” She swings her feet off the bed and sits up. “But it is your fault for distracting me.”
She stands, the bed between us.
“I’m not going to apologize for that.”
Tilda smirks. “I wouldn’t accept it if you did. Now, will you please do your ranger thing and make sure there isn’t a scary carnivore between here and the outhouse?”