We lie like that for a while in the quiet, the wind blowing gently outside the window and the sounds of our breath mingling in the air. He’s still inside me when he lifts his head some time after, his lids heavy and his blue eyes darker, stormier.
“You’ll need to shift again,” he manages roughly, still sounding a little out of breath. “Otherwise, you might be uncomfortable.”
I kiss his cheek. “There’s time in the morning. Before we go back.”
“Back,” he parrots. He turns his face to let his cheek rest against my breast. “How out of character would it be for me to say I don’t want to go back to work?”
“Terribly out of character,” I deadpan. “I would have to assume you’ve contracted some brain disorder and have started speaking exclusively in gibberish.”
His lips curl, his eyes peeking up at me. “Maybe I have.”
“Doubtful,” I chuckle. “Although, it would make you wanting to go on a date with me make a lot more sense.”
He nips at my breast, and I yelp. “If that’s plausible,” he chuffs. “Then you might be the one with the brain disorder. Maybe I should get you a referral to the neurology floor.”
I can’t help but grin as I take in his dark hair falling into his eyes, making him look younger than he is—moving on to the soft curve of his mouth and further still to the broad width of his shoulders, which still feel somehow larger than life. He really is kind of beautiful, for a boogeyman. The annoyed expression he would surely make is almost worth telling him so.
I shake my head, still chuckling quietly. “Hardly.”
“We should probably get some actual sleep,” he says with a bit of a yawn. “Especially if I’m going to have to chase you down again in the morning.”
“I’m definitely looking forward to making you eat my dust again,” I tease.
He snorts, winding his arms around me as he snuggles closer. “I let you win,” he mumbles.
“Sure you did,” I laugh. “Then tomorrow, I’ll make sure you never catch me.”
“Oh, I will catch you,” he says, sounding amused.
I roll my eyes. “You think so?”
“I do,” he hums, his eyes drifting closed. “I’m not letting you get away from me, Mackenzie.”
My pulse quickens as my mouth parts in surprise, but Noah is already drifting off, slipping into a satisfied sleep as if he hasn’t thrown me for a loop at least a dozen times since we got here. I’m deciding I like the weird heat that comes from the more intimate things that have been happening between us, and even if it’s still a little terrifying . . . I think maybe it could be worth it, if I give it a chance.
I bend my neck to press a kiss to Noah’s forehead, falling back against the pillows after as fatigue seeps in. “Maybe I’m not letting you get away from me either,” I say to the air.
18
Noah
What are we going to do when we get back to work, Noah?
I am doing everything humanly possible to focus on work, but it is decidedly . . . difficult. It’s only been forty-eight hours since Mackenzie and I left the lodge, and I’ve had to endure a scathing text from Hunter and his aunt Jeannie about the state we left the bedroom in. It was well worth the bill they’re going to send me for cleaning, I think. More than, even.
Mackenzie had seemed so unsure when we piled up in my car to head back here, everything about her demeanor speaking of an uneasiness about what would happen when we got home. I hadn’t been able to find the exact words to explain it to her then, how after only a few weeks with her I’m considering turning all my plans upside down—too afraid to scare her off. But still she’d melted into my kiss, and she’d said again that she would go on an actual date with me when we got another night off, and I think that’s a start, at the very least.
I spoke to the board director at the hospital in Albuquerque this morning, and it’s funny. Before all of this, I couldn’t wait to get out of here. The idea of packing up and moving to another state for a fresh start with more open minds had been exciting—and now it only makes me unsure. Logically, I know the fact that I’m so unsure now of what I want to do is one thousand percent to do with Mackenzie and this strange thing blossoming between us, just as I recognize that hesitating for these reasons could end up being a massive mistake. So why am I dragging my feet, suddenly asking the director to give me some time to consider his offer?
Maybe I really am losing my mind.