Spiral (Off the Ice, #2) (34)
When Elias comes to stand beside me, his arm brushes against mine, and a static charge shoots to my fingertips. “This is Summer, Aiden’s girlfriend,” he informs.
“Totally meant to introduce myself. But it’s like I already know you with how much the Thunder fan base talks about you,” Summer says.
“Oh God, I can’t imagine what they’re saying about me now.”
“Don’t worry. Aside from the few trolls, it’s all good things. And the guys are constantly talking about you. You’re basically a celebrity at the hockey house.”
Elias calls the house they lived in during college the hockey house, so she’s referring to their friends.
“They’ll be ecstatic to meet you when they come to visit soon,” Aiden says. Then he glances at the time on his phone, wrapping his arm around Summer to pull her with him. “We’re going to head to bed, but make yourself at home, Sage. You can stay as long as you need.”
“Thank you,” I say, watching their retreat. I’m hyper-aware it’s just Elias and me now.
“You can take my room,” he simply says.
I’m about to refuse and suggest that I take the couch, but I don’t get a chance to because he walks past me and across the hall to the main bathroom. I stand there, deciding to wait, but when I hear the shower turn on, I head back to his room.
It takes everything in me not to snoop, but when I’m going to switch off the bedside lamp, I notice a smooth flat stone sitting on his dresser. Like the one from our date. When the hall washroom door creaks open, I drop the stone and turn off the lights before slipping under the comforter.
That’s the moment I realize how shitty my mattress at the apartment was. In the dark of his room, I close my eyes as I feel the exhaustion hit.
Hours later, I’m still wrestling with my mind, wide awake.
The heavy awareness of Elias sleeping just a few feet away is what I’m choosing to blame my sleepless state on tonight. Not the insomnia I’ve had for most of my life.
The occasional sound of cars passing or an ambulance siren wailing and washing the walls in red accompanies my restless mind. Then a loud noise from inside the apartment jolts me upright. Thinking it’s Elias, because Aiden and Summer are asleep on the opposite side of the hall, I tiptoe out of the room, in need of some conversation that takes place outside of my head. A sharp intake of breath and a grunt from the living room make me turn toward it and that’s when I see him.
The quick rise and fall of Elias’s chest and the twitching of his arms look exactly like someone having a bad dream. No. Not a bad dream. A nightmare.
His body is bent awkwardly, and his legs stretch past the length of the couch. The six-foot-four defenseman has never looked more uncomfortable. Yet, he’s sleeping here because I’m hoarding his room like a homeless troll.
Elias jerks, and the moon illuminates the light sheen of sweat on his forehead.
When Sean was little, he used to have night terrors. My parents were never home, so I’d check on him periodically through the night. Hello, insomnia.
But what I learned was never to wake someone in the middle of a night terror. I know why Sean had nightmares; you don’t come from a family like ours and grow up to be normal. But Elias seems so secure. Like he has it all figured out and sticks to his made-up life plan like it would kill him if he deviated from it. I stare at him for so long it might seem like I’m trying to read his mind, but I can’t even do that when he’s awake and talking, much less when he’s asleep.
What chaos is trapped in that beautiful head of his?
Quietly, I kneel by the couch and slip my hand into his shaking one. To my surprise, he grasps it like a life raft. His breathing and pulse level out, and his exhausted body deflates.
My focus remains on his hand, which doesn’t release mine, and I let him keep it, trying not to think about the smile that touches my lips. Drawing tiny patterns on his skin with my thumb relaxes me, and I debate whether I should just sleep on the floor next to him, but I don’t ponder for long because his even breaths halt, and brown eyes are on me.
When he sees our intertwined hands, he sits up and releases me so quickly, it leaves a cold sensation in my palm and in my chest. He looks worried, I must look hurt, yet we both try our best to school our expressions.
“I can’t sleep,” I blurt, not wanting him to feel embarrassed.
“Is it my bed?” he asks in a raspy, sleep-laced voice that tightens my abdomen. His tone is rough, as if he’s irritated that his bed is the reason for my lack of sleep. Like it’s become his number one enemy at this moment.
“No, your bed is perfect.” And it smells like you too. “I just have this super fun thing called insomnia.”
“How?” He appears quizzical. “You’re like the chirpiest person I know.”
“I’m going to take that as a compliment, for your sake.” He winces but I don’t let him apologize. “I developed it when I was a teenager, and it shows up occasionally.” Like every night for the past year.
When Elias stands, he gestures for me to follow him. I feel like an inmate who failed to escape the prison and is being taken back by the warden. A warden I kind of want to sleep with.
“I never realized how much light comes through those curtains,” he says, standing by his bedroom window, glaring at the streetlamps and city lights.