"It's okay. I liked sleeping with you, too. Just the sleeping part." I smiled. "I mean, I especially liked the other parts, but the sleeping part was good, too. So can we get to that? It's late. If you've done enough tortured brooding, I mean."
He paused, rubbing at the back of his neck and then chuckling softly. "I don't brood."
I snorted. "Oh, you brood. You could give lessons on brooding. You might very well be the foremost expert on brooding." I was almost surprised at my ability to joke and make light, but I was so genuinely happy to see him. And I was so happy he'd wanted to see me, too.
He chuckled again, and clasped my hand as we walked. The mood seemed lighter.
Five minutes later, we were walking in his front door.
We didn't talk as we walked to his bed. I took off my boots and jacket and then stripped down to my underwear. We'd only been together one time, we'd only touched each other intimately one night, but somehow I already felt comfortable in front of him.
He stripped down to his own underwear and got in under the covers next to me. He pulled my back into his chest and buried his nose in my hair. The exhale that came from him sounded like he'd been storing it up for hours and hours. I pulled his arms around me and held him as he held me.
"Thank you," he said, his voice low and raspy. Something in his tone sounded almost . . . desperate. I turned in his arms, concerned.
He looked at me in the dim light of the room, his eyes filled with some kind of pain I didn't know how to identify. I frowned and put my hand on his cheek.
"Kyland—" I started.
But he shook his head, cutting me off. "I'm sorry," he said.
"Sorry for what?" I whispered.
"Sorry for not being able to stay away from you. Sorry for not being able to stop thinking about you. Sorry for starting to walk over to your trailer every five minutes since I woke up and you were gone. Sorry for being so damn selfish."
My heart soared even as it dropped. "You're not being selfish. I missed you today, too. It's okay. I'm not asking you for anything more than you can give. I'm not."
"I'm sorry for that most of all."
"What? That what?"
He shook his head slowly again. "That I have nothing to give you. That I can only take from you. And that's wrong."
"It's not wrong if I'm offering it."
"Yes it is. It's still wrong."
I studied the angles of his face in the near-darkness and ran my finger over his cheekbone, down his jaw, and over those full, beautiful lips.
"Well. I'm sorry to render your moral dilemma null and void, but I'm only in this for your body, Kyland Barrett. So you can let yourself off the hook."
He laughed, pulling me into him. I inhaled the scent of his skin, masculine and clean.
After a minute, I asked, "Were you having a bad dream again? Is that why you couldn't sleep?"
He paused and I wondered if he'd answer me, and so when his deep voice filled the silence, I stilled completely. "The dreams aren't the hard part. It's not talking about my family that's been the hardest. And I guess I didn't even realize it until last night." He let out a shuddery sounding breath. "It was the first time I've talked about my mama, dad, and brother aloud since I lost them."
I tilted my head back and stroked his cheek again. "That must have been so hard. I'm so sorry you've been holding all that pain inside."
He nodded. "I've spent so many lonely nights here in this bed and last night, having you here felt so damn good." He made a sound in the back of his throat. "This, you here. It feels so good."
"I know. It feels good to me, too," I whispered.
We lay there forehead to forehead, breath to breath, and toes to toes for a few minutes, until I finally got up the nerve to ask, "Will you tell me about your brother? I saw him around town now and again, but I never met him."
He released a breath. "He was . . ." he seemed to take a few seconds to consider, "full of life. He was a smartass and a practical joker." His lips moved into a smile in the darkened room. "He was always laughing. I can still hear his laugh if I close my eyes. He laughed with his whole body, you know? Like he doubled over and stumbled and it was just . . ." He laughed a small laugh and I smiled. "He could be such a goofball. The other day when we were sledding, I swore I heard his laughter echoing through the mountains when I was coasting down that hill. I swore I did."
My heart squeezed so tightly that I gasped out a small breath. And then we were both silent for a minute. I allowed him to gather his thoughts.
"He was five years older than me, but we did everything together. We ran through these mountains, pretended we were part of a band of wild Indians." He smiled again, but then his face sobered and he was quiet for a second. "We were always afraid of the dark when we were kids. Silas, he always begged our mama to keep the hall light on." He paused again. "He died in the pitch darkness underground, Tenleigh." He choked out my name. "The power went out after the cave-in and they were all under there in blackness. And I can't help . . . I can't help but think he was afraid. He was probably so scared. I hear him over and over in my mind whispering to me like he did from his bed when we were kids, 'Get up and turn on the light, Ky.' And there's nothing I can do for him. Nothing at all."
I squeezed my eyes shut against the tears that threatened. "They were together, though, your dad and your brother. All those men. I bet they helped each other cope. All the ones I knew, they were such good men. I bet they were all there for each other in the end."