“Jamison being stuck in that awful place longer than you were doesn’t mean your trauma wasn’t bad. Twelve days all alone in the Badlands when you were a baby.”
“I was hardly a baby.”
“You were. Seven or twelve or whatever. And it is a trauma. It’s awful. No kid should have to survive it.”
“But... The thing is, Sarah? We did. We survived it and here we all are. Still surviving.” Which was a much more hopeful thought than he’d had in a long while. Survival... He had done that. For years on end—as a kid, then after his coma and injuries. Survival he was good at.
But his brothers hadn’t just survived. Now they were all living. Building. Shouldn’t he be doing the same? Wasn’t it time to build?
No. Right now was still survival. “We should go to bed. Rest while we can. You especially.”
She nodded, still studying him with that speculative look. Then she glanced at his sleeping bag on the floor. “You know, you don’t have to sleep on the floor. You’re certainly not getting much rest.”
“Less to do with the floor and more to do with...you know, constant danger.”
She pulled back the covers and scooted over in the bed. “There’s plenty of room.”
All those complicated emotions that had been crashing around inside of him stilled under that very not-innocent offer.
He cleared his throat. “I don’t think—”
“Oh, don’t be so...you about it. I’m just offering to share your bed. It is yours, after all. You deserve a good night’s sleep too.”
“I’m pretty sure that bed was made for two, not for three.”
She rolled her eyes. “Just come to bed.”
He should ignore her. Turn off the lights and climb into his sleeping bag. Stick with sanity, reason and just taking time to...evaluate the situation. But when he turned off the light, she turned on her phone, the light a guiding beacon as if he didn’t know the way to his bed by heart.
It wasn’t really that big of a deal. She was just offering him part of his bed. He’d sleep next to her and nothing would happen. This didn’t mean anything. Or didn’t have to. It was just a better place to sleep.
Gingerly, he got into his own darn bed.
She laid the covers over him, then curled up next to him—her pregnant belly pressing against his side, her head nudging onto his shoulder until he had to put his arm around her. She laid her hand on his chest and moved in closer.
There was a physical pain in the center of his chest, right where she placed her hand. He didn’t know what it was, only that it made it hard to breathe. He felt...everything.
For a man who’d spent a lot of time focusing on feeling nothing, it wasn’t just overwhelming, it was paralyzing. But she didn’t do anything. She just lay there, snuggled up against him, her hand resting over his raging heart.
Until, second after second, he relaxed. It wasn’t going to kill him—probably. Sleeping like this was just...
“It’d be nice, wouldn’t it?” she asked, her voice soft and...something else. Something he didn’t associate with Sarah. That vulnerability she was trotting out all of the sudden.
“What?” he asked gruffly, wishing he didn’t feel so clumsy with her.
“This.”
Nice was not the word. That was too easy, and this was...all those things he’d never given himself a chance to believe in. He had his family, but it wasn’t...this. He didn’t have a choice about loving his family, caring about their well-being. He didn’t have a choice about being bonded with his brothers over everything they’d been through.
He had a choice with Sarah, because he’d been making the choice to ignore and avoid for years now. There was too much at stake to change his mind, but she kept...changing it anyway.
It’s what she’d always done. Pulled him out of or away from his worst impulses. She was always giving to him, and what did he ever give to her?
He’d keep her safe, come hell or high water, but didn’t she deserve more than just safe? Didn’t she deserve the things he’d told himself he didn’t. A partnership and...
She cared about him. Enough to fight for him. Didn’t she deserve him to care back?
He placed his hand over hers on his chest. “I guess it would.”
She chuckled into his neck. “You guess. Such a sweet talker.”
“I wasn’t trying to sweet-talk you.”
“No. Why would you need to when I’m throwing myself at you?”
“You’re not throwing yourself at me.”
Her lips grazed his jaw. “Aren’t I?” she asked huskily.
That pain in his chest turned into heat—made all the hotter by how much he remembered of their night together. It had haunted him all this time, because nothing else had ever stayed with him, moved him, changed him quite like that.
Maybe it had taken time to come to grips with the change, but it had started then.
He still held her hand on his chest. She had small hands, but they were rough from ranch work. She was small in general, even with the baby belly, and yet she was one of the strongest, hardest ranchers he’d ever worked beside.
“Sarah...”
“Dev...” she returned, clearly mocking the gravity in his voice.
“I don’t know what I have to offer you.”
She shifted, her arms sliding around his neck. “It’s pretty simple. All I want is you.”
Which reminded him of what Jamison had said. Sometimes being you is enough. But Dev thought maybe Jamison had it wrong. It wasn’t just being yourself—it was wanting to be more of yourself because of someone.
Because of her. Because of Sarah he wanted to be better. To live. To give. It was a terrifying realization, but there was so much
