Chapter 26
KIRA
Sunlight wakes me up. Not the thin, gray suggestion of it that I’ve grown used to over the past few days, but real, honest sunlight streaming through the window in wide bands, warming my face.
For several seconds, I lie still, letting the light sink into me, my body heavy and relaxed in a way it hasn’t been in weeks.
I’m alone in the bed, but I’m not surprised. The men are early risers and rarely deviate from their schedules.
I have a fuzzy memory of Andrew pressing a kiss into my hair in the early morning, his mouth warm against my temple, his hand smoothing once down my back before he slipped out of bed. He tucked the covers snug around me, and I fell back into a deep sleep.
Aside from that memory, I slept straight through the night, wrapped safely in his arms, my cheek pressed to his chest. No nightmares. No half-waking jolts of fear. I don’t remember a single dream.
My body feels loose and rested in a way that borders on unfamiliar. My skin is vibrantly energized, the kind of feeling you only get after a satisfying orgasm, and I was gifted with two.
A glance at the clock tells me I slept far later than usual, and that makes me smile. Oversleeping feels like a bit of indulgent normalcy in a life that’s been anything but normal.
Beside the bed, there’s a glass of water waiting for me, along with an insulated mug that’s warm when I wrap my hands around it. When I open the lid, I’m greeted with the rich scent of coffee, decaf, no doubt.
On the chair where I sat when Andrew gave me a massage, there’s a neat stack of fresh clothing folded with military precision. My favorite leggings, a long-sleeved shirt, thick socks, and underwear tucked in the middle.
I’d never used Andrew’s bathroom before last night, but when I wander in there, my shampoo, lotion, and face wash are lined up beside the sink, along with a fresh towel and washcloth.
His thoughtfulness is unmatched by anything in my past.
After I shower and put on the clothes Andrew picked out for me, I go down to an empty kitchen.
I’m late for breakfast, of course, but I wasn’t forgotten.
There’s a covered pan on the stove that holds a single portion of scrambled eggs, a few slices of bacon, and a pile of home fries with red pepper and onion.
I fill a plate and carry it over to the window, where I stand and watch melting snow drip from tree branches. Paths have been cleared around the house, evidence the men have been busy all morning, as they always are.
A flash of color catches my eye, and I’m treated to the sight of a red squirrel scurrying around, digging tunnels in the snow.
I wonder if she’s searching for things she stored away during the summer, and the idea of her planning makes me think about the dreams I have for my child.
I have big dreams, sure, but I also love the idea of her and me someday watching wildlife go about their normal lives on a quiet day.
I hope that sort of peace will be possible.
After I finish eating and wash up the remaining dishes, I drift toward the stairs that lead down to the ops center as if a magnet is pulling me. I take a couple of steps down, but stop when I hear Andrew’s voice, low and controlled. I’ve come to recognize it as the voice he uses on work calls.
Even though I can’t hear any words clearly, I linger for a moment and listen, admiring the cadence of command and focus. He sounds exactly like a man who keeps everything running and watches out for angles I wouldn’t even know existed. I’m not going to interrupt.
Later, he finds me in the hall bathroom, where I’m wiping down a counter to keep myself busy and do something useful.
He leans a shoulder against the doorframe and crosses his muscular arms, and I can’t help but think about how it felt to be in those arms last night.
He watches me with an expression that makes my insides fuzzy and warm.
When I set the rag down and go to him, he kisses me, his hand briefly going to the back of my head. “Hey,” he says softly when he releases me.
“Hey.”
He doesn’t mention last night, but he doesn’t need to. Acknowledgment of what we shared is in his eyes and his kiss.
“I need to run into town for a few errands,” he says. “Need anything?”
“I’m good. Thank you.”
His eyes linger on me, and I wonder if he can tell I’m tempted to drag him back into the bedroom. I wonder if he feels the same.
He gives me another quick kiss. “I won’t be long.”
Even after I do all the housework I can find to do, I’m too restless to sit down. It’s still sunny outside, and it’s too pretty a day to spend indoors, so I bundle up and head outside.
Fresh snow blankets the woods and sparkles in the sun. The air feels fresh and clean. I follow a familiar path I’ve walked before, until I come to a clearing beyond the inner fence line, where the snow has drifted out and is only a few inches deep.
My boots crunch softly, forging a new path, as my thoughts swirl around the events of last night. When I first went to Atlas’s room, he was working, but once I was in his arms, he held me like there was nowhere else he needed to be.
In every way possible, he’s more than enough man all on his own, and things would be simpler if my feelings ended there.
But I can’t help how I feel about Grizz and Viper.
I don’t want to pull Atlas away from his brothers. The three of them share years of history and a bond forged by fire.
I wonder if he said anything to them about last night. He must have.
I haven’t seen the other men all day, but it’s as likely they’re busy as it is that they're avoiding me.
A set of tiny animal tracks under a nearby tree catches my eye. As I step off the path to get a closer look, the crack of a gunshot splits the air.
I drop to the ground, my heart slamming against my rib cage. Snow burns my cheek as I flatten myself on the ground, breath locked in my throat.
A voice, very close, cuts through the ringing silence. “Don’t move.”