15. Sage
sage
Icouldn’t sleep, even with Arlo at my feet.
Sleeping in Christian’s bed, surrounded by his things and his scent — some sort of citrus woodsy cologne that had no business in being so intoxicating — and being hyperaware of every unfamiliar sound outside, made it near impossible to escape into unconsciousness.
Arlo shifted again when I turned on to my back, staring up at the ceiling. There, in the dim night was the soft green glow of star stickers. Star stickers? Really? Was he a child? I chuckled softly to myself, freezing to listen once again when I thought I heard something.
When Clayton walked into the bar tonight it was like the ghost of every nightmare coming to life.
He’d found me.
My heart thumped wildly, causing another wave of nausea to hit me. There was no way I was going to sleep tonight.
I sat up, swinging my legs over the side. Arlo released a snort in annoyance.
“Sorry, buddy. I can’t sleep,” I whispered to him.
I pulled the shirt Christian loaned me down to cover most of my thighs, before padding to the door, creaking slightly when I opened it. I just wanted to check and make sure everything was okay and the front door was locked, then I could probably get back to bed.
Tiptoeing out to the living room, Christian was laid on his side on the couch, a thin blanket covering his legs. His chest rose and fell silently, his eyes blinking to clear sleep when he heard me approach.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” I grimaced, heading to the front door.
“Where are you going?” he asked, his voice low, thick from sleep.
“Is the door locked?” I asked.
“Yeah, but you can check it if that makes you feel better.”
I released a deep exhale, appreciating that he saw I needed to check for my own peace of mind.
I checked the door and sure enough it was locked and bolted.
Wrapping my arms around myself, I stood there, staring out the front window into the dark parking lot, looking for any sign he was waiting, like a spider ready to pounce.
A hand touched my arm and I flinched.
“It’s just me,” Christian said in the dark, taking a step closer, close enough that I could feel the heat coming off him.
I wanted to lean back, to fall into him, pull some of his strength to help ground me, to remind me that I wasn’t that scared girl anymore.
He took another step until I could feel the firmness of his chest against my shoulders, but I remained still, hesitant to draw comfort from him.
“Can I — can I hold you?” he asked tentatively, his breath brushing against the shell of my ear where his head bowed over me.
My heart rate had yet to slow down since Clayton walked into The Rooster and it felt like it just kicked up a notch.
“Okay,” I breathed.
Slow and gentle, Christian wrapped his arms around me.
His heat and strength covered me, bringing me more firmly against him.
I closed my eyes, inhaling that same scent invading his bedroom.
My head tipped back, resting it against him, listening to the steady flow of his breath.
I don’t know how long we stood there like that, but it was long enough for my heart to slow and the arches of my feet begin to ache.
“Do you think you’ll be able to sleep now?” he whispered in my ear.
I shook my head against him. “Can you hold me a bit longer?”
“I think we’re both dead on our feet, let me tuck you in.” He pulled away and it immediately felt like he was siphoning warmth right out of me, even though he took my hand and guided me back to the bedroom.
He was right, I was exhausted.
He pulled the covers back, waiting for me to get in before he tucked them around me. Arlo stood, then plopped back down at my feet.
I didn’t want to be left alone. Not tonight. I took his hand. “Don’t leave.”
He nodded and without a word he crawled in behind me, wrapping his arms around me, pulling me to him. His warmth returned, blanketing me. The steady rhythm of his breath eased my anxiety, soothed my racing heart.
I didn’t remember the last time I was held, truly held. Not like this, anyway. And definitely not in a way that made me feel safe and protected.
“You have stars on your ceiling,” I commented.
He hummed in agreement behind me, his chest rumbling through me. “Stars for my star fire,” he said, his voice soft and sleepy.
“Who?”
He pulled me tighter against him, tucking me under his chin. “Star fire,” he repeated.
My heart thumped. I lay still. Waiting for him to elaborate, but he only settled into sleep, his breathing evening as he dozed off.
“Star fire?” I whispered into the dark. Did he mean me? My chest cracked like the ice encapsulating my heart.
The sun was rising when I awoke, but Christian was already there pulling on a hoodie and handing me my clothes.
“I’ll follow you in my car,” he whispered in the early morning quiet.
“Thank you,” I said, stepping into my jeans.
It seemed like we didn’t need to talk, for me to justify why I wasn’t ready to tell my brother. He simply knew I’d want to leave before my brother woke up to avoid awkward questions.
On ginger feet we quickly and quietly left the apartment, Christian and Arlo walking on either side of me.
He still didn’t say a word as we got in our respective vehicles and he followed me all the way back to the farm, while I nervously kept looking through the rear-view mirror to make sure he was there and there weren’t any other cars following us on the dawn roads.
He didn't stray once, his Ford was close behind me until we turned into the driveway of the farmhouse and he pulled up beside me.
Getting out of his truck, he rounded the hood of my Jeep, running a hand through his blond locks.
He looked tired, his eyes crinkled at the corners when he gave me an exhausted and empathetic smile.
My breath caught watching the glow of the sunrise hit his back, his broad shoulders heaving on a deep sigh before his moss-green eyes met mine.
They were so soft and tender, loving even.
“Thank you,” I said once again when I got out of my car, meeting him in the steam that wafted from our engines.
His smile faltered and I don’t think I’d ever seen Christian’s face stall mid-grin. It made me want to wince thinking my words stung in some way.
“It’s okay to accept help when you need it, Sage,” he said, his breath billowing in the morning chill.
“Still, thank you for being there for me this morning.”
“You think he’s sticking around?” The crease between his brows deepened.
“I don’t know, but I’ve got a feeling he’s not leaving yet.”
He nodded, rubbing the scruff on his jaw. I followed his motion, his strong hands, calloused and chorded from holding onto bulls for dear life, hands that kept me steady last night.
“He knows where you work.”
A chill went through me and I wrapped my arms around myself to stay warm. “He knows where I work,” I confirmed.
“Then it’s settled. You don’t go to work by yourself.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ll be there at five for happy hour.”
I scoffed. “You plan on being there all night?”
His eyes turned intense on me, a protective firmness I hadn’t recognized in the fun-loving Christian Riggs before. “Yes. Every night if I have to.”
“I don’t think that’s necessary,” I told him, taking a step away toward the house where Arlo was already heading.
“It is. And you need to tell your brother.”
“I know.” But it scared the shit out of me.
I think he could tell, because he didn’t press it further, just nodded and turned away to head back to his truck.
“I’ll see you tonight, Sagey Pagey.” His usual tone returned, giving me a wink as he stepped up into his truck.
I knew what he was doing. He was trying to make me react to his flirting — it was a nice distraction, a comfort really to know he wasn’t going to treat me differently now.
I shook my head with a quiet laugh while I watched him back out of the driveway, a dopey grin on his face.
There was no way of getting rid of Christian now and I wasn’t sure I wanted to anymore.