Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
Serenity
I’m not stupid. I know this part is unnecessary, which is why I tried to reason with him. My reflection stares back at me, knowing without a doubt that is a lie.
The more I’m around him, the more I find I like it in some weird sort of way. I couldn’t tell you why. The man never smiles.
But with that said, I am terrified I’m making a mistake. Look how hard I slept at the Inn. I run my fingers through my wet hair. I can’t let that happen again.
When I leave the bathroom, Rage grabs his stuff. “Did you leave me any hot water?”
“Of course,” I say innocently, not really sure if I left him any. “I wasn’t in there that long. I’m not rude.”
He makes a noise that might be a short laugh. I don’t really know because his face remains neutral.
I hurry to get in bed while he’s in the shower. My plan is to pretend I’m asleep by the time he comes out.
You know, I always pictured myself living alone for the rest of my life.
The men my mother brought home turned me right off to the idea of ever living with one willingly.
I wouldn’t say I’m a man hater. Mr. Johnson helped with that.
He showed me that I really shouldn’t lump all men into one category.
After meeting him, I started listening to my intuition again.
I’ve not mastered it yet. Most men start out on the bad guy side and then, after time, if proven, I might move them over to the good side. I know it’s not fair, but I was deceived one too many times when I was younger.
When the water shuts off, my heart begins to race. I take a few deep breaths trying to slow it down before he comes out.
His footsteps are quiet as he moves around the room. A few minutes later, he’s sliding into bed.
It takes everything in me not to run.
Just breathe. I can do this.
I don’t really know why I want to do this, but I do. More than anything, I want to be right about him.
“Serenity,” he says quietly, as if he’s testing to see if I’m awake.
My heart falls fast, but I stay where I’m at.
“Serenity, I know you’re awake.”
Still, I don’t move. I don’t even breathe.
I feel the bed shift as he stands. When the door clicks shut, I don’t have to turn around to know he’s gone. I feel it.
Slowly, I sit up. He took his pillow and blanket with him. Why did he leave? Was I snoring?
Of course I wasn’t snoring. I wasn’t even asleep.
Curiosity gets the best of me, and I go in search of him.
His pillow and blanket are tossed on the bed in the guest room, but he’s not here. As I turn around to leave the room, I bump right into the solid wall of his bare chest.
“Oh!” I squeak.
He covers my mouth and closes the door behind us. “Shh, you’ll wake Mila,” he scolds gently, slowly removing his hand from my mouth. “What are you doing in here?”
“What are you doing in here?” I ask, folding my arms over my chest.
“You were scared, so I decided to sleep in here.”
My first reaction is to deny it, but I’m confused. “But it was your idea to sleep in the same room. For Mila, remember?”
“I’ll be damned if I’m going to be the reason for you to lie awake all night afraid.” He runs his fingers through his hair. “I know what that feels like. Like you said, we’ll keep our stuff in one room but sleep separate.”
His words ruminate in my mind as he stares down at me with that ever-present scowl on his face. Suddenly, I have a vision of a little boy sitting in front of a television. I shake my head, clearing it.
“Please come back,” I whisper, dropping my eyes to the floor. “This is me facing my fear head-on.”
“You’re sure?” he asks.
“I’m … I’m sure.”
He steps aside so I can slip by him.
Peanut’s eyebrows bounce up and down when I pass him in the hall, but he doesn’t lift his head. I stop for a second to pat him. “We humans are a little nuts, huh boy?”
He sighs in agreement, making me chuckle. “Goodnight, buddy.”
I hurry back to bed, and a few seconds later, the bed dips. This time, I remember to breathe.
When he’s settled, he asks me if I’m okay. It surprises me, and I don’t know why. He’s made sure I’ve been okay since I arrived in Cheyenne.
Please let this be real.
The dryer tumbles softly down the hall, and everything seems strangely okay. “I’m good.”
“You’ll tell me if that changes?”
“I can if you want me to.”
“I do.”
My heart skips a happy little beat. It’s been doing some funny things lately, and I’m not sure if I can trust it.
We’re quiet for several long minutes, and I wonder if he’s fallen asleep. I’m too scared to turn around and look.
“Rage?”
“Yeah.”
“You said you understood how I was feeling …” I pause, unsure if I should finish my thought. But the image of the little boy I envisioned earlier whispers to me to press on. “I’m sorry you understand.” Internally I cringe, worried I’ve assumed too much.
“Me too,” he says quietly, almost as if to himself.
My system floods with relief and connection before turning to heartbreak. Slowly I roll over and find him facing me.
His eyes connect with mine, and he doesn’t look away. He doesn’t shy away from the truth of his story or mine. Each of us remain on our own side of the bed, but he is touching me in ways I didn’t know possible.
We don’t say anything else, and we remain locked in a different sort of embrace. More intimate than any physical one I’ve ever had. I don’t think I’ve ever stared into someone’s eyes this long.
My eyelids get heavy, and I begin to blink slowly.
When I open them again, it’s morning. I hear Mila talking to someone. I jump up, careful not to wake Rage as he sleeps. His arm is thrown over his eyes to block out the sun peeking through the curtains.
Oh my god. How did we sleep through someone coming into the house?
“This one is yours,” I hear Mila say.
I rush around the corner to find her trying to put one of her little headbands on Peanut’s big head.
The dog gives me the funniest look. He’s not fond of his makeover.
“What are you two doing in here?” I ask, lowering myself to the floor beside them.
“Me and doggy playing.” She turns back to the baby dolls she has lined up on the floor. I watch as she gives one a bottle. “Baby eating.”
She’s talking so much better, and her color has improved a lot. I think getting outside really helped.
“Is Mila hungry?”
She rubs her little tummy and nods.
“Do you want to help me cook breakfast this morning?”
She jumps to her feet and runs out the door toward the kitchen. Peanut follows, not letting her get more than two steps in front of him.
I’ll take her enthusiasm as a yes. Mila has changed so much overnight. It makes me excited for Rage to wake up and see her progress.
A little flutter erupts in the pit of my stomach at the thought of him.
Mila has the fridge open by the time I get to the kitchen.
This all feels so … I was going to say normal, but this is anything but. Whatever this feeling is, it’s nice.