Chapter Five
The clubhouse had mostly gone quiet by midnight. Brick made his usual rounds. He checked the cameras, the locks, the perimeter. It really wasn’t necessary. Their territory was solid and nobody would be stupid enough to pick a fight on their turf.
Routine kept his mind still or still-ish. He paused by the hallway to the guest rooms, listening. Tessa’s room was the second door on the right. Silence behind it. A peaceful silence.
He shouldn’t check on her. He knew that. He’d already hovered enough times since dinner, telling himself he was just doing security. Really, though, he was just making sure she was okay.
That she was safe and she was still here.
Brick scrubbed a hand over his jaw and forced himself to walk past her door. Back to his own room. Back to the damn thin walls and the memories that liked to stalk him at night.
He stripped off his shirt, tossed it onto the chair, and lay on the bed. He’d spent years getting used to sleeping with one ear open, boots within reach. Tonight was no different, except he was once again aware of Tessa’s nearby presence.
Brick exhaled slowly, willing his muscles to unclench. He closed his eyes, still thinking of the kiss they shared and the fact he wanted to do all sorts of wicked things to her body. He never should’ve let her cook for him, smile at him, look at him like she saw something worth understanding.
He never should’ve let himself want her. Sleep dragged him under anyway.
He didn’t fall asleep so much as drop into the nightmare. It was always the same one and as usual, it started the same way.
Smoke in the air. The metallic stench of blood. The sound of engines howling in the distance. Gunfire crackling like firecrackers, quick and brutal.
Brick ran through the warehouse yard, boots slipping on gravel stained with oil. “Prospect! Where are you? Answer me!”
A groan answered. The wrong kind. He rounded the shipping container and there he was. The kid. Eighteen, maybe nineteen. Still had baby fat in his cheeks, still flinched at loud noises, still asked Brick stupid questions about how to aim without missing.
Brick dropped to his knees beside him. A gunshot wound to the chest. No, it was more than one. Blood bubbled at the corner of the kid’s mouth.
“Sorry, Brick... I should’ve ... should’ve listened,” the kid whispered.
“You did listen,” Brick snarled, pressing his hands against the wound. “Stay awake. You hear me? Stay—”
The kid’s eyes rolled back, and then nothing.
The nightmare always ended there, right before Brick screamed for help that didn’t come fast enough. Right before he saw the enemy patches vanish into the night. Right before Brick failed someone again.
He shot awake with a ragged breath, hand gripping the sheets like he meant to tear them apart. Sweat clung to his skin, chest heaving. The dark room spun around him, shadows threatening to shift back into the shapes from his past.
He forced his breathing to slow. In and out. It didn’t work. A soft knock sounded at the door. He froze. Another knock. Quiet and hesitant, but somehow confident at the same time.
“It’s Tessa.” Her voice was soft through the door. “Are you okay?”
Shit. He scrubbed his face, trying to get rid of the nightmare before it clung to his voice, but the residue of it was too thick. “I’m fine,” he growled out.
“You’re not.” She hesitated. “You sounded in pain.”
Brick clenched his jaw so hard it hurt. “You shouldn’t be up.”
“I’m already up,” she said gently. “Can I come in?”
No. He should definitely say no. The best course of action was to push her away so she wouldn’t get any closer to him. However, the nightmare still clung to him like chains, squeezing his lungs, keeping him trapped in a memory he couldn’t shake.
For the first time in too damn long, he didn’t want to sit in the dark alone with it. His chest tightened painfully.
“Yeah.” The word slipped out before he could stop it. “Come in.”
The door opened slowly. Tessa stepped inside, framed in the hallway light before she closed the door behind her. Her hair was loose around her shoulders, oversized t-shirt hanging to her thighs. She looked softer at night. Real and touchable. She could be his if he wanted.
She was dangerous. Her worried gaze met his. “Brick, you’re shaking,” she pointed out.
He hadn’t realized that. Brick forced his hands to remain steady on the blanket, but she had already seen. She saw too much. Always had, since the moment they met.
“Nightmare,” he muttered, voice low.
She edged closer, careful, like she was approaching a wounded animal who could snap at any second. Smart, because he was exactly that, but she also didn’t back away. That was a plus point.
“What kind?” she asked.
Brick shook his head, staring at the floor. “Doesn’t matter. Old shit.”
“Old or not, it clearly still hurts,” Tessa pointed out.
He looked up sharply, but she didn’t flinch. Tessa didn’t apologize for calling out the truth and she didn’t pretend the pain wasn’t there.
She took another step, and Brick tensed until she sat down on the edge of the bed, not touching him, not crowding him. Just close and simply there.
“You don’t have to talk,” she said quietly. “We can sit in silence.”
Brick swallowed hard.
He didn’t want to talk or bare the ugly parts of his past.
But having Tessa in his room, with Tessa being so warm, steady, and brave enough to face him despite his edges softened something in him. Softened, but didn’t break it.
He let his back rest against the headboard, staring ahead. She sat cross-legged beside him, hands tucked into her lap, patient and calm.
The silence wasn’t awkward. It was grounding.
Brick felt the nightmare fading, draining out of his chest, replaced by her warm presence. Her scent. Her breath. The quiet reassurance that she wasn’t scared of him.
She should be. He was a man carved out of violence and mistakes. She was soft where he was sharp. Light where he was shadows. Heart where he was hands.
He should push her away, but he didn’t. Brick found he couldn’t.
After several minutes, she spoke softly. “Was it about someone you lost?”
Brick’s stomach twisted. “Yeah.”
“Someone you cared about?”
“Yeah,” he rasped. “Kid. Patrick. He was a prospect. He was too young.”
Tessa moved her hand, her touch hesitant and curious, and settled lightly on the edge of the blanket near his thigh. Not touching him or crossing a line, but offering.
Brick stared at that hand like it was a grenade.
“You tried to save him,” she said, voice barely above a breath. “Didn’t you?”
Brick’s jaw flexed. “Didn’t try hard enough,” he finally said.
Her eyes softened. “Knowing you, you probably did everything you could,” she said.
Brick let out a harsh laugh. “Not enough.”
“Sometimes,” she said, “our best isn’t enough to change the outcome. Doesn’t make it less of our best.”
He closed his eyes. The honest and gentle words hit too close. He didn’t deserve gentle, but she offered it anyway.
Minutes passed, her presence slowly rewiring the panic inside him. Brick’s breathing evened out, shoulders lowering inch by inch. The darkness in the room no longer pressed against him and it finally eased.
Tessa shifted slightly, turning toward him. “Do you have nightmares often?” she asked him.
He hesitated, then lied, “No.”
She stared at him.
Brick sighed. “Yeah,” he finally admitted.
“How long?”
“Long as I can remember,” he mumbled. It wasn’t a big deal.
Her expression told him everything. There was sympathy and understanding there, anger at whatever had caused them. None of it was pity. She didn’t pity him. She saw him and perhaps she saw too much.
Brick reached for his water bottle on the nightstand just to have something to do with his hands. His fingers brushed hers accidentally.
He froze and so did she. The air in the room tightened instantly, like a wire pulled taut.
Tessa’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Brick.”
He knew what she meant. He knew what she was asking, without asking.
And for the first time, Brick didn’t feel the automatic pushback. The instinctive retreat. Instead, something in his chest cracked open. He trusted her. It hit him like a punch.
When the hell had that happened?
Maybe it had started the moment she made him breakfast. Or the moment she smiled at him like he was worth smiling at. Or the moment she walked into his nightmare without fear.
Whatever it was, it was real.
Real enough to terrify him and to steady him. Hell, he didn’t want to fight it anymore. Tessa shifted closer and he let her knee touch his leg under the blanket. Brick didn’t move away.
He let her warmth sink through the cracked armor of his skin.
She spoke again, voice soft but certain. “You don’t have to be alone with this.”
Brick opened his eyes and found hers. Searching and steady. No judgment or expectations, just presence.
His voice came out low, rough. “I’m not used to letting people in,” he admitted.
“I know,” she whispered. “But you let me in now.”
He didn’t deny it.
Brick lifted a hand. He did it slowly, giving her time to pull away, and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. Her breath caught, chest rising, eyes softening.
“Dangerous,” he murmured.
“For who?” she asked, barely breathing the words.
Brick didn’t hesitate this time.
“For me.”
Because wanting her meant vulnerability. Vulnerability meant risk and risk meant pain.
But as she leaned in just slightly, not kissing him, not yet. Brick felt something he hadn’t felt in years.
Hope, warm, subtle, and quiet. He exhaled, the nightmare finally releasing its grip completely.
Tessa stayed beside him, knee touching his, resting her hand near his thigh, calm and steady like an anchor.
Brick didn’t fight his attraction anymore. Not tonight and not with her beside him in the dark. He let himself want her and trust her.
Tessa drew in a small breath.
“Brick, can I ask you something?”
He grunted. “You can ask.”
She hesitated long enough that he turned his head, meeting her worried eyes.
“I don’t want you to be alone tonight,” she whispered. “Not after a nightmare like that.”
Brick’s heart thudded hard against his ribs.
She rushed on, cheeks warming. “I’m not asking for anything else. I just—” Her voice trembled slightly. “I just want you to sleep. Really sleep. And if having someone nearby helps, I can stay. Only if you want.”
Brick couldn’t speak for a moment. He stared at her, stunned.
Women had offered him their bodies before. Their attention and their flirtation, but no one had ever offered him something as simple and devastating as comfort.
She started to pull back. “Sorry. That was too much,” she murmured.
Brick reacted fast. He wrapped his hand gently around her wrist.
“Tessa.” His voice came out rough as gravel. “I want that.”
Her breath hitched. “You do?”
Brick nodded once. It felt like trying to lift a car with one hand, getting the words out. “Yeah.”
He let go of her wrist slowly, afraid of holding too tight. Afraid of the force in him that always threatened to spill over.
“I’m not used to,” he exhaled, “sharing a bed for sleep.”
She smiled. “That’s fine.”
Brick shifted backward on the mattress, giving her space, even though every part of him was buzzing with nerves and something he didn’t want to name.
Tessa moved slowly, carefully. Like she understood he was made of explosives, and any wrong move might set him off.
She slid under the blanket beside him, lying on her side. Their bodies didn’t touch, not really, just the faint brush of warmth between them.
Brick stared at the ceiling, trying to regulate his breathing, but he could feel her watching him.
“You okay?” she asked softly.
No. He wasn’t okay. He was overwhelmed, unsteady and off-balance even. Hell, Brick decided he didn’t care.
“Yeah,” he murmured. “More than I should be.”
Her smile was in her voice. “That’s not a bad thing.”
She reached out slowly, giving him plenty of time to pull away, and rested her hand lightly on his forearm. A whisper of a touch. Brick closed his eyes and something in his chest loosened.
He didn’t move for a long moment. The faint weight of her palm grounded him more effectively than any weapon he’d ever carried.
“Tessa,” he said, voice low, “I might fall asleep on you.”
“That’s the plan,” she whispered.
A breath of a laugh escaped him. She curled her fingers on his arm, cuddling close but not clinging. Tessa was just providing reassurance.
“Brick?” Her voice was barely audible.
“Mmh?”
“You’re safe.”
Brick turned his head just a fraction, enough to see her in the dim light. Her dark hair spilled across the pillow. Her lashes brushed her cheeks. Her expression wasn’t fearful or hesitant, just trust.
Brick’s throat tightened. “Stay,” he said, the word dragged from a place in him he never touched. “Please.”
Her eyes softened. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Something inside him broke open. Tessa scooted an inch closer, enough that their legs brushed under the blanket, enough that her warmth sank into him completely. He didn’t tense or pull away.
He let himself need this, need her. Brick exhaled, a long breath that seemed to empty out all the nightmare’s weight, the guilt, the pressure he always carried.
His muscles loosened one by one and his heartbeat slowed. Tessa hummed the same soft tune she had the night before. He felt it seep into the cracks of him, sealing them in ways he didn’t understand.
Brick’s eyelids grew heavy and his breathing deepened.
“Goodnight, Brick,” Tessa whispered.
His hand found hers under the blanket and she laced their fingers together without hesitation. Just like that, Brick finally fell asleep.