bed.
Before he could pull away, she laced both hands behind his neck. “Please.” In the quiet stillness of the dark room, she heard him swallow thickly.
He grabbed one of her hands and pulled it away. “Don’t.”
She couldn’t see the expression he wore, but his tone was crystal clear. Tears flooded her eyes, and she found herself so glad for the dark.
His footsteps padded quietly across the room and the door click ed shut. She was alone.
But that little exchange hammered the nails into the coffin of sleeping for the night. After maybe an hour, she sat up and debated. She pushed out of bed and opened the door. Finding the house dark, she crossed the hallway to the dining room doorway and listened.
It didn’t take long to hear what she’d come in there for. The strangled whimpers and half cries echoing from the front room broke her heart.
She tiptoed over to the futon, which was silly, since she was planning to wake him. “Marco?” she whispered. She moved closer. “Marco?”
The diffuse moonlight through the front windows allowed her to make out his position, laying on his back, the covers twisted around his legs. She knelt beside the futon and laid a gentle hand on top of one of his, which strained and fisted into the blanket.
He released an anguished gasp that sent her heart into double time. She inhaled to say his name again just as his fist went slack under her grip. Still unconscious, he angled his head toward her and exhaled a shaky breath.
Minutes later, his breathing evened out into the slow and soft rhythm of normal sleep.
Alyssa burst into tears. She pressed her hand over her mouth to smother the sound and felt her sorrow for him drip over her knuckles. As much as her outburst was borne out of her grief for his pain, it was also the result of a bone-deep relief. Had she finally found a way to help him? Even if he didn’t know it—even if he could never know it—she’d watch over him as he slept. If her presence or touch or whatever it was calmed him, she’d give him as much as he needed to protect him from his nightmares.
Her tears dried up, her legs fell asleep, and the moonlight moved across the room and disappeared. Hours later, the blackness turned gray. Time for her to go.
Holding her breath, Alyssa withdrew her hand and unfolded her legs. The pins and needles were terrible, and worse when she moved, but it was worth it. She limped across the room, gritting her teeth the whole way, and finally breathed again when the bedroom door closed behind her.
Tired as she was, she could’ve tossed her head back and cried out in triumph. Whatever tormented him was more than she could handle alone—she knew enough to know that—but if standing guard against his demons at night allowed him the peace of a decent sleep, she would do it. How many nights had he sat with her until she fell asleep when she was a kid? Brady had, too, of course, but her brother was possibly the most tone-deaf person on the planet, whereas Marco could sing and play the guitar. And many nights he’d sung her to sleep.
His presence and his music had kept her safe all those years ago. Had helped her to forget.
Now she could do the same for him.
She collapsed on the bed, wondering how her day could get any better. But then she remembered it was payday. Finally! She’d saved a couple hundred bucks in the half week she’d been at Marco’s, and her check should double that, easily.
Sometime later, the telltale signs of Marco moving around the house sounded out. She left her room and found him in the kitchen wearing only a pair of beat-up jeans that hung low on his hips. His arms were braced on the counter and he was staring at the coffeemaker like he might be able to will it to brew faster.
For a long moment, she drank him in with her gaze. His back was a sculpted canvas of muscle, one she longed to trace with her fingers and tongue. He was so damn gorgeous. Would she ever have the chance to show him just how much
Before he could pull away, she laced both hands behind his neck. “Please.” In the quiet stillness of the dark room, she heard him swallow thickly.
He grabbed one of her hands and pulled it away. “Don’t.”
She couldn’t see the expression he wore, but his tone was crystal clear. Tears flooded her eyes, and she found herself so glad for the dark.
His footsteps padded quietly across the room and the door click ed shut. She was alone.
But that little exchange hammered the nails into the coffin of sleeping for the night. After maybe an hour, she sat up and debated. She pushed out of bed and opened the door. Finding the house dark, she crossed the hallway to the dining room doorway and listened.
It didn’t take long to hear what she’d come in there for. The strangled whimpers and half cries echoing from the front room broke her heart.
She tiptoed over to the futon, which was silly, since she was planning to wake him. “Marco?” she whispered. She moved closer. “Marco?”
The diffuse moonlight through the front windows allowed her to make out his position, laying on his back, the covers twisted around his legs. She knelt beside the futon and laid a gentle hand on top of one of his, which strained and fisted into the blanket.
He released an anguished gasp that sent her heart into double time. She inhaled to say his name again just as his fist went slack under her grip. Still unconscious, he angled his head toward her and exhaled a shaky breath.
Minutes later, his breathing evened out into the slow and soft rhythm of normal sleep.
Alyssa burst into tears. She pressed her hand over her mouth to smother the sound and felt her sorrow for him drip over her knuckles. As much as her outburst was borne out of her grief for his pain, it was also the result of a bone-deep relief. Had she finally found a way to help him? Even if he didn’t know it—even if he could never know it—she’d watch over him as he slept. If her presence or touch or whatever it was calmed him, she’d give him as much as he needed to protect him from his nightmares.
Her tears dried up, her legs fell asleep, and the moonlight moved across the room and disappeared. Hours later, the blackness turned gray. Time for her to go.
Holding her breath, Alyssa withdrew her hand and unfolded her legs. The pins and needles were terrible, and worse when she moved, but it was worth it. She limped across the room, gritting her teeth the whole way, and finally breathed again when the bedroom door closed behind her.
Tired as she was, she could’ve tossed her head back and cried out in triumph. Whatever tormented him was more than she could handle alone—she knew enough to know that—but if standing guard against his demons at night allowed him the peace of a decent sleep, she would do it. How many nights had he sat with her until she fell asleep when she was a kid? Brady had, too, of course, but her brother was possibly the most tone-deaf person on the planet, whereas Marco could sing and play the guitar. And many nights he’d sung her to sleep.
His presence and his music had kept her safe all those years ago. Had helped her to forget.
Now she could do the same for him.
She collapsed on the bed, wondering how her day could get any better. But then she remembered it was payday. Finally! She’d saved a couple hundred bucks in the half week she’d been at Marco’s, and her check should double that, easily.
Sometime later, the telltale signs of Marco moving around the house sounded out. She left her room and found him in the kitchen wearing only a pair of beat-up jeans that hung low on his hips. His arms were braced on the counter and he was staring at the coffeemaker like he might be able to will it to brew faster.
For a long moment, she drank him in with her gaze. His back was a sculpted canvas of muscle, one she longed to trace with her fingers and tongue. He was so damn gorgeous. Would she ever have the chance to show him just how much
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