Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 77793 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77793 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
“Or she’ll come back in during the night and walk on your face.”
“Oh my god!” I have to try very hard not to shudder. That would ruin my calm façade entirely.
“Be careful you don’t eat her. You don’t snore, do you?”
“I do not snore, no.”
“How would you know?”
“I—I’m not going there. And you’re not sleeping outside. I’m good. You’re good. We’re all good. It was a spider who was the danger, nothing else and no one else. There are approximately seven hours until daylight at this point. I don’t need a babysitter or a bodyguard.”
“Granny will have my balls.”
I grin deviously and scoot my bottom off the floor, scrambling up so we’re at eye level. Or at least somewhere closer to it. “That’s a risk I’m willing to take.”
He rolls his eyes, I roll my eyes, and he crosses his arms, which makes his T-shirt practically groan at the seams. Then, I cross my arms, which makes my blouse stretch tightly. He gives me the hairy, stink-eye stare, and I return it with just as much vigor.
“Fine,” I hiss. “Sleep there if you want. It won’t be comfortable, but it’s your choice. I’m good up here, just so you know. I won’t feel sorry for you if your butt goes numb, if you get cold, or if the raccoons find your location and ambush you in the dark.”
“Harsh. Harsh and cold.”
“Meh. You could have slept in the house. That would be on you. Not to mention the bats and the night birds and whatever other creatures might be prowling about. Or spiders. I’m sure more live under the treehouse than inside it.”
“Goodnight,” he grunts. He turns around to leave.
I go to plop down on the bed, but he glances over his shoulder and holds up a hand. “Careful with that now. I wouldn’t want to have to rescue you again.”
He ducks through the door and shuts it behind him before I can launch a shoe, a scathing look, or angry words at him. I can hear him climbing down the ladder, and then there’s a rustle under the treehouse and a sigh as he sits down. I imagine him leaning there, his big, broad back against the tree trunk, his legs out in front of him, straight but crossed at the ankles. He’s probably all solid and hyper-vigilant out there.
I don’t want to think about how that creates a slow burn inside me that I didn’t expect—a thawing of the ice that’s been in my chest and heart for a very long time. I can’t remember the last time I had someone watching out for me other than myself.
I don’t want to feel soft and special about any of this. It’s silly and unnecessary, and in the morning, I’ll tell Orion’s granny exactly that. I’ll go buy a new lock and won’t think about it further. Orion didn’t want to be married to me in Vegas or any day after that anyway. It meant so much to him that he doesn’t even remember it happening. He just doesn’t want to catch crap from his grandmother. That’s all this is. It doesn’t mean anything. It doesn’t mean he cares, or I’m part of the family, or that I ever really will be, even if I decide to lend my skills and opt-in.
I change into the T-shirt and shorts I use for pajamas and slip into the sleeping bag on the air mattress, carefully this time. I’m lucky enough that it doesn’t eat me, but I do have to reach behind me and retrieve the pillow off the floor from where it flung off.
I close my eyes and listen to the sounds of the night. Strange sounds. The low-key rumble of the city that never goes quiet, the calls of birds, and the chirp of frogs and insects. I think that’s what the sounds are, though I’m not actually sure.
For the record, as I slip into a sleep that is way more peaceful than it should be given what I’m sleeping on, where I am, and after all that’s happened, I am not at all grateful that Orion is keeping watch just a few feet away. Or rather, below.
CHAPTER 7
Orion
It’s the middle of the night, waning toward early morning. I’m not sure which exactly since I don’t have a phone or a watch out here, but I swear the sky is a little lighter than it was the hour before. I’ve been in the zone between being awake and asleep for the better part of the night. Trees are supposed to be hard and barky, and this one is both, but it’s not as uncomfortable as I imagined it would be. My bottom is taking it a lot harder than my back and shoulders right now.
A creak above me makes me sit up a little bit straighter. I lift my heels off the ground, rocking my feet back and forth to revive my behind, which is no longer capable of feeling anything except shivers of pain whenever I flex from cheek to cheek. And I do that now, just in case that creak was something I have to get worked up about.