“I could! Someone could grab me in my sleep, or Laura could find me, or some basement creature that lives in Tristan’s bathroom could swallow me whole and—”
“Fine.” Gabriel put up a hand to stop the noise. “You can sleep in my room and I’ll sleep on the couch.”
“No way,” Heather said. “There is no way I’m going to sleep in a bed, by myself, knowing some crazy Ashman can come in and swipe my memories at any moment.”
Gabriel sighed, not used to dealing with dramatic girls. “Then what do you propose we do for sleeping arrangements?”
“I’ll sleep with you.” She shrugged.
“What?” Gabriel raised his eyebrows.
Heather rolled her eyes. “It’s not like we’re gonna get busy or anything. You’ll sleep on one side of the bed and I’ll sleep on the other and, meanwhile, no one will invade my memories. Win-win.”
Gabriel furrowed his brow. “I don’t see how that’s a ‘win’ for me.”
“You get to sleep next to me.” She shrugged again.
Shaking his head, Gabriel said, “Whatever.” There was no point in arguing with Heather. It just encouraged her to talk more.
He followed her up the stairs to his room. “But if you snore,” he said, “I’m carrying you into Nate’s room.”
“And if you snore,” Heather countered, not looking back at him, “I’m going to push you off the bed.”
Once they were upstairs, Gabriel laid on “his side” of the bed—as deemed by Heather—and tried to fall asleep while she practiced her bedtime rituals. But it was no use.
She made no attempt to be quiet as she took off her makeup, brushed her teeth, and dug around in one of the giant bags she’d packed to find a pink, silk, sleep mask.
When she finally got into the bed, Gabriel said, “You’re really noisy when you get ready to sleep.”
“Well, beauty is loud.” Heather pulled the facemask down over her eyes. “Good night, Gabriel.” She turned on her side, her back to him.
He turned his back to her as well. “Good night.”
A quiet minute passed.
“Gabriel?”
“Hmm?”
Heather paused. “Thanks for letting me sleep next to you. I feel safe now.”
Something inside Gabriel warmed. “You’re welcome,” he said and drifted to sleep.
54
Scarlet sat on the couch and stared at the fireplace before her, watching the flames slowly subside. Outside, the wind howled, making the small hut creak and moan in protest. The sun had set hours ago and the storm had grown more violent in its absence.
The forest was a black mess of wind, rain, thunder and lightning. But inside, there was nothing but the thick fog of uncomfortable silence.
Tristan had spent the entire day in the small back bedroom of the shack, only exiting to build and rebuild the fire by the couch and offer Scarlet food.
She hadn’t been hungry.
Scarlet had tried, unsuccessfully, to start conversations with him each time he tended to the fire, but he had given her short answers and avoided looking at her.
Conflicting emotions had been playing ping-pong inside him all day.
Determination…longing…sadness…love…fear…. It was heart wrenching.
She almost wished she couldn’t feel him.
Almost.
She hadn’t been able to get Tristan—or her flashback of the two of them together—out of her head all day.
They had kissed. They had touched. They had broken the rules.
And Scarlet had loved every second of it.
Well, right up until the part where Tristan pulled away from her in horror. That part sucked.
She understood now, why he was so careful, so afraid.
She also understood that he loved her. Which made her heart soar and plummet at the same time.
The small bedroom door creaked open for the second time since the sun set and Scarlet tightened the soft blanket around her.
Tristan’s footsteps echoed in her ears as he made his way back to the fireplace and began adding more wood. He had a shirt on this time. Which was disappointing, but less distracting.
Shifting in her seat, Scarlet absently felt his emotions still warring inside him.
“It’s late and the rain is still pouring.” Tristan stabbed at the charred logs. “You can sleep in the bed tonight. The heater keeps the back room pretty warm. I’ll sleep on the couch.”
“Sure.” Suddenly, she had butterflies in her stomach. She cleared her throat and braved the subject she’d been trying to avoid all day and night. The subject she wouldn’t be able to avoid even if she banished it to Mars. “I had a flashback.”
He turned to look at her over his shoulder. “You did?”
“Last night.” She nodded. “When I was…touching you.”
Touching you sounded less stalkerish than lying prostrate on top of you.
He stopped poking the fire and faced her, still crouching. “What about?”
Scarlet licked her lips. “You and me. In my last life.”
She tried not to blush.
She failed.
He watched her face for a moment, no doubt feeling the desire swelling up inside her. Her cheeks grew hotter.
So embarrassing.
Tristan bit the inside of his cheek, nervousness shooting through him as he looked at the floor and cleared his throat. “And what were we doing? In your memory?” His eyes stayed on the rug beneath his feet.
“Uh…”Scarlet bit her lip. “Not behaving.”
It was silent in the room, save for the storm outside.
She swallowed. “It felt like…like maybe I pulled you into the flashback with me, somehow. Did…did you…?”
Tristan nodded, his eyes still on the floor. He rubbed the back of his neck and exhaled slowly. “What happened between us was…” desire, fear, desire, fear, “a mistake.”
Scarlet pressed her lips together.
They didn’t look at each other.
The rain grew heavier, beating against the roof like a thousand tiny heartbeats and the room felt tangible. Like Scarlet could pick up the air and swallow it whole.
Tristan silently turned back to the fire, lifting the poker in his hands to the flames.
Desire, fear, hope, regret…desire, fear, hope, regret…
Several minutes passed before Scarlet was able to push words from her dry mouth. “What happened after?”
Tristan jabbed away at the fire.
“After we…kissed. What happened?” she probed.
His back to her, Tristan softly said, “Scar, please don’t.”
Scar. She wanted him to say it again. She wanted to hear her name on his lips over and over and over….
“Don’t what?” Scarlet kept her eyes on his strong shoulder muscles. “Don’t ask you questions?” She paused. “Don’t I deserve to know what you know?”
Tristan stood and turned around, looking down at her on the couch. “Yes.” He took a few steps back.
“Then tell me,” Scarlet said softly.
His eyes looked everywhere but at Scarlet. “You ran away.” He tucked his hands into his back pockets, the arm muscles peeking from beneath his shirt sleeve flexing.