Chapter 4 #2
Caleb nods, then pulls his room key from his vest pocket, letting himself and Beth into his room. I walk to the end of the hall, passing mine first and heading straight to Isabelle’s.
“Where’s your key, Iz?” I ask, gently shaking her awake.
“Mmm. Purse,” is all she says as she nuzzles her face into my chest.
There’s a small woven bag slung over her chest, resting against her stomach.
We reach her door, and I slowly lower her to her feet, my arm still banded around her back as I help her stay upright.
I fumble with one hand to open her bag, finding a phone with a bright yellow case, a little tub of strawberry lip balm, and her room key.
I open her door and let the both of us inside, flipping on the light as we go.
“Do you need anything before I go?” I whisper, guiding her towards her bed.
The whole room smells like her. Sweet and delicate roses, the playful scent of orange, but then something spicy like cinnamon that just makes me think there’s more to this woman than what people see from the outside.
There’s a sexy and confident side begging to be released, hidden by her innocent charm.
“Could you please get me some water? I need water beside the bed.”
“Sure.” I help her sit down, then grab a bottle of water from the mini fridge.
She’s still fumbling with her sandals once I’ve uncapped the bottle and put it on the bedside table, so I kneel on the floor in front of her.
Picking one foot up and resting it on my knee, I start to pull the leather strap tied around her calf.
Once the knot is loose, it all unwinds and falls away.
Isabelle laughs. “I feel like Cinderella.”
I pull the shoe off her foot, then pick up the other. “I think the prince was trying to put her shoe on, not take it off.”
“Have you watched it?” Her eyes blink slowly as she fights against sleep.
“Yeah, Beth always made us watch it as kids.”
“I like Beth.” She smiles.
“She’s okay,” I tease.
“I always liked Beauty and the Beast.”
“Was it the library?” I ask, then stand, pausing for a second so the dizziness can fade, and round the bed, pulling the sheets back for her to hop in. She’s clumsy as she crawls up the bed, and I have to look away when I realise it puts far too much of her cleavage on display.
“No, it was the beast.”
I tilt my head down at her, where she’s now resting her head against the pillow.
“The beast?”
“When he saves her. He always saves her.” She snuggles further down the bed, hugging the pillow to her face. “I like that he’s gentle for her.”
Gentle. I bring my fingers up to brush the strands away that have fallen in her face, but stop just before I reach them, my hand hovering in the air.
I turn away instead, switching off the lights and opening the door. Looking back once more at her peaceful, sleeping form, I blow out a breath as I close the door behind me and head to my own room.
I strip down to my boxer briefs, brush my teeth, chug an entire bottle of water, and fall into bed.
I close my eyes, but sleep won’t come. My head still feels like it’s spinning, the music from the club lingering in my ears.
I lean over to grab the TV remote, hoping the background noise might help to distract me enough to sleep, when a door to the side opens.
Isabelle comes stumbling through, the white tank top still on but her skirt now abandoned. A pair of white lace boyshorts is all that covers her bottom half. Fuck.
“Where did my bathroom go?”
“Ahhh.” My mind is a dark place most of the time, but right now, it’s filthy.
I quickly jump out of bed, keeping my eyes trained above her head. “Looks like we got interconnecting rooms like Beth and Caleb,” I say, blindly searching for her shoulders to help her find her bathroom.
“Here you go.” I flip on the switch and hold the door open for her. I’m closing the door and planning to race back to my room when she speaks.
“You have a lot of tattoos.”
I turn, leaning my back against the door frame, and blow out a breath. “Yep.”
“Do they all mean something?”
I look down at my chest, ignoring the name written across the right side. “I have one on my wrist with four circles. Caleb, Beth, and Mason have the same one.”
“What about the Grim Reaper?”
I look down at my forearm, where a dark figure cloaked in shadows sits sinisterly in a frame of vines and roses. “I guess that one’s a reminder that every decision brings you closer to death, and to own your choices, your actions.”
Isabelle pulls the bathroom door open, her head tilted and eyebrows furrowed. My eyes snap to the ceiling, not wanting to risk peeking at what isn’t mine to look at.
“That’s a very bleak outlook. Why not, every decision brings you closer to death, so make every moment worth living?”
I run my fingers through the short stubble across my jaw. “That’s definitely a more positive way to look at life.” I’m sure it’s how a lot of people live, how everyone should live. But how many of them killed their best friend? “Anyway, have you got everything you need?”
I’m two steps away when I feel the air shift as Isabelle closes the distance between us. “Why does Beth call you Henry?”
My stomach skips as she walks in front of me, stumbling to her bed and giving me a glimpse of that lace underwear again. Jesus Christ.
“Because that’s my birth name?” My words come out like a question. This woman’s beauty is killing my brain cells.
“You don’t like your birth name?”
I shrug. “Henry just doesn’t feel like me.”
“I like the name Henry.” Isabelle snuggles down under the sheets, hair spread over the white pillows.
“Thanks.” I rub my eyes and step away, eager to get back to the safety of my own room.
“Can you stay?” she asks sweetly. I almost give myself whiplash with the way my eyes turn to find hers in the semi-darkness. “I’m used to my cat sleeping at my feet, and now they feel cold.”
“Umm.”
“Please?”
Why are my feet crossing the room to join her? “Sure.” Sure? No, no, no, this is a very bad idea.
Someone else has control of my body as I start to sit on the edge of the bed. Before my arse makes it, she throws the covers back and shuffles over to one side, inviting me under the covers. Dear. God.
With an audible gulp, I sink into the mattress and lie back, moving as little as possible. I lie like stone beside her, and I’m quickly covering my junk with both hands when her soft body nuzzles into my side.
“What do you do if you can’t sleep?” Isabelle asks into the darkness. I’m used to running on little sleep. In the years since I lost August, sleep has never come easy. Once the nightmares wake me up, I give in. I get up and work out the chaotic energy with my boxing bag.
“I exercise.”
I feel Isabelle’s head lift, the hint of moonlight coming through the closed curtains is enough to see she’s looking straight at me.
“You exercise? What if it’s like three in the morning?”
“On nights I’m at my bar, I don’t usually get home till two or three anyway.”
Her head lands against my shoulder, and her hands wrap around my forearm, humming to herself as she gets comfortable.
“You must get very tired.” She yawns.
Yep. I’m so fucking tired. I’m also leaving a Gage-shaped sweat puddle against her sheets, because the proximity of her body and her tantalising scent is giving me a semi when I absolutely should not be getting one.
Maybe I can sneak out in a few minutes. She’ll fall asleep in no time, and hopefully, she’ll remember none of this in the morning.
“Sweet dreams, Henry,” she whispers into the darkness, and my body starts to cool. My heart slows. My breath becomes deeper. My head becomes heavier. And when I sneak out of her bed nearly five hours later, I realise that’s the first time in nearly ten years that I haven’t had a nightmare.