Chapter 32
Chapter Thirty-Two
Mia
A ngus and I were naked in a pasture. Our horses tied to nearby fir trees as we made love on a red and gold Pendleton blanket. I’m in the middle of a recurring dream I’ve already had several times this week, only tonight, when I got to the part where my best friend's brother moans my name, as he rocks in and out of me, he says “Sawyer.”
“What?”
Rolling off me, he says his name again. “Sawyer.”
It’s then that I wake up because of the crying coming from the room next door.
In a rush, I step into my slippers and race to his room only to find him in the arms of the man I had just been dreaming about.
“That must have been quite a nasty dream. I’m so sorry. I know how scary they can be. But I got you. I’m not going anywhere,” Angus says against the top of his head.
My hand covers my mouth as sobs threaten to overtake me. The emotions of seeing this man from my dreams so sweetly calming my little boy mixed with the heartache of hearing him acknowledge his own nightmares takes me by surprise.
What I wouldn’t give to soothe his pain, to rescue him, like he’s rescued Sawyer and me these last few months.
When he finds me watching them, he drifts in my direction, a slight bounce in his step to help Sawyer fall back to sleep if he isn’t already. He doesn’t stop in front of me, though. Instead, he gives me a soft smile as he passes by, walking circles around the room.
After four more passes, he stops in front of me. “I got him. You can go back to sleep.”
Shaking my head in reply, I stay rooted to my spot in the doorway.
We do what we do far too often. We stare at each other. Neither of us hiding from the other. Not saying the things we’re both too scared to admit. There’s no need to share feelings that will leave me in even more pain than I’m in already. Playing house. Nights of passion. It’s confusing and unrealistic to think there could be anything more.
Gus’s lack of movement has Sawyer squirming and whining in his arms, interrupting our silent conversation.
“Here, let me take him,” I offer.
“I don’t mind,” he whispers.
“He may need to be changed.”
He relents at this, gently passing him to me. Once he’s in my arms, Angus places a kiss on the top of his head, and I want to cry. He really loves my kid, and doesn’t that just make all of this that much worse?
I expect him to leave, but he stays. Watching us in the gentle glow of the nightlight on the other side of the room.
That is what the two of us have been doing most of our lives. Watching. Only I’m used to admiring him from afar. Now that we're living under the same roof, the distance usually between us has evaporated.
I know what he tastes like.
What his skin feels like under my fingertips while I trace his tattoos.
I’ve heard him moan my name in the throes of passion.
Everything between us is different now.
He’s no longer a fantasy. Well, he is. I fantasize about him every night as I fall asleep in his bed. He may not be lying beside me, but he always finds me in my dreams. Always.
As if I’m not emotional enough, the man who has forever held my heart in his hands breaks the silence.
“You are so beautiful.”
His words ignite the panic I’ve been trying to keep at bay since I came home from work yesterday to find him cooking in the kitchen. When I went to bed last night, I couldn’t help but wonder if he remembered our conversation in his loft. When I told him, a man cooking for me was better than flowers. He called it my love language. I was sure I was reading more into it, because each time my heart flutters with hope and desire, panic reaches through my ribs and clenches my heart in its fist, reminding me I’m not allowed to want more with Angus McKinnon.
Besides, he wouldn’t be looking at me the way he is right now if he knew my secret.