Chapter 38 – Dylan
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
DYLAN
“ Hey,” Grady murmurs into my ear as I stir slowly from my sleep.
I feel the bed dip. The covers lift. The heat of his body as he slides up behind me. The feel of his hand on my abdomen pulling me against him.
“Good shift?” I ask, my mind trying to catch up to my body, which is already awake and alert to the feel of his.
“How come you’re in here?” he asks and the heat of his breath hits the back of my neck.
“This is my room.”
“But I have nightmares when you’re not in mine.” He says it so nonchalantly, I close my eyes and squeeze them tight as I try to control the emotion that swells into my voice.
“I don’t feel right sleeping in there when you’re not here.”
“Don’t be silly.” He rests his forehead against the back of my head and falls silent. Just as I’m about to fall back asleep he murmurs, “We lost a kid tonight. Traffic accident. He wasn’t buckled in his car seat properly. Grayson was called to the scene and they flew him to General but we lost him.”
My heart breaks. “Grady, I’m so sorry.”
“I can still hear his mom screaming when she saw us loading him in the chopper.” He sniffles, and I shift immediately to turn over, but he holds me in place where I am. “Uh-uh. Can I just—I need this right now. Need you right now. Okay?”
“Yes.”
* * *
“I could listen to you sing all day.” Grady’s sleep-drugged voice interrupts me from where he stands on the porch, hair a mess, and sweatpants hanging dangerously low on those strong hips of his. I blush at his compliment, and my cheeks heat with embarrassment. I can sing in a studio full of techs and musicians, but tell me Grady is listening, and I want to die of embarrassment. “It’s late.”
I look up from my guitar and over to the clock. “It’s eleven. In my world that’s early.” I laugh. “It isn’t late until you’re waking up after lunchtime.”
“Sounds similar to the station.” He stares at me for a beat. I can tell he wants to say something but is unsure, so I wait him out. “How are the songs coming?”
“Good.” That isn’t what he wanted to ask, but I let it slide. “I have most of them started. About eighty-five percent finished to the point that I’m happy with them for now. They’ll need some further tweaking once we hit the studio and I can hear them played back to me. And the other fifteen percent I’m hoping to wrap up in the next two weeks.” The last three words are hard to get out. They put an expiration date on this. On us . And I’m having a difficult time accepting that.
“We’ll have to celebrate when you finish.”
I nod but swallow over the sudden lump in my throat. Celebrate ? Does that mean he’s happy I’m leaving?
“We should,” I lie and then change the topic because leaving here is the last thing I want to think about. “I turned the scanner down so I could work and you could sleep, but it sounds like there is a pretty big fire up north.”
“I heard. Bowie called and woke me up.” Concern fills his eyes.
“Are you guys going to be called out to help?”
“Not sure,” he says. “But I want to take you somewhere today. Do you have plans?”