My Heart For Yours (Sinful Secrets 2)

I’m surprised when Barrett gets up one more time as Kellan walks around the car to get into the driver’s side. The two clasp in a firm guy hug. I can’t tell who hugs whom harder, but it’s wonderful to see. They both look calm and bright-eyed when they pull away. Satisfied, I think.

Kellan grins and slaps his brother’s arm one more time. “Take care, B.”

“You too, little bro.” Bear pulls his brother close and I think I hear him say, “I’ll do it.”

I find out later what he means he’ll do is see a counselor. I’m pleasantly surprised that, at some point last night, Kellan mentioned the idea to Barrett. Bear tells me both Kelly and Cleo had “some issues” after what they went through with the bone marrow transplant, so they were both “seeing a shrink.”

I flash him a knowing smile. “It’s not a bad idea.”

“What’s yours’ name?” he asks, a glint of skepticism in his eyes.

“Helga. And actually, I see her tomorrow. Would you like me to ask her for the name of someone who works with veterans?”

Barrett leans his head against the couch’s back and blinks up at the ceiling. His eyes glide to mine. “What would I do?” he asks in a quiet, low voice. “If I went?”

I deadpan, “Well, the first thing is the physical. You’ll just undress, and he or she will check for—”

His eyes get so wide, so fast, I can’t help laughing, which morphs into howling. Barrett wraps his arm around my neck, scoots so close he’s almost sitting on my thigh, and gives me a gentle noogie.

“Liar, liar…” He chuckles, pulling me into his lap.

“Pants on fire?” I offer.

His gaze darkens. “You want that?”

“I always do,” I whisper shyly.

Barrett sprawls me over his lap, like a naughty student with a very dirty-minded schoolmaster, and fingers me until I’m desperate, almost miserable. Then he throws my fleece over the rug, urges me down onto my hands and knees, and enters me from behind.

Bliss of the highest order…

God, I think I’ll die before I come.

And afterward, a shower. And after that, we make omelets, and then I spend hours showing him how to make bread, and making the bread into bread pudding.

When we go to bed that night, Barrett nods off wrapped in my arms while I read something on my phone, over his shoulders. When he’s solidly asleep, I turn the twinkle lights on, pull the weighted blanket to the bottom of the bed, go into the kitchen, and pour lemonade. Kellan told me Bear hates lemonade, so if he wakes up dissociating, I plan to offer him a sip and watch his face scrunch back into the present.

I don’t get the chance. When he wakes up this time, he sits up for only a second before staggering toward the bathroom. I find him crouching in front of the toilet. He doesn’t seem sick—his arm is draped over the front of the seat, and his eyes are closed—so I wonder if he came here automatically, triggered by other nights when he was sick. I rub circles on his back and wrap an arm lightly around his waist when I notice his calves are trembling.

A few heartbeats later, he turns and curls against me. His head is down, so I can’t see his face, but I can feel him breathing—fast.

“It’s okay.” I cup his jaw and try to hold his body against mine. “We’re okay…”

I feel chills sweep his skin. He nods once, just a quick jerk of his head, like he’s trying to believe me. My heart aches as I whisper, “I love you. Can you come back to bed with me?”

He nods. Our eyes meet in a brief spark as we stand up together. His hand grips mine as we walk back to bed. He follows me closely, his face tired in the shadows. When our eyes catch this time, Bear gives me a tiny smile that makes my chest feel warm and tight.

When we’re tangled together on the bed, his body damp, his muscles tense, he tucks his chin against the top of my head—and I decide to gamble.

“Do you want to tell me…what it’s about?” I whisper haltingly.

I feel him take a deep, slow breath. He’s still so long after, I think he fell asleep, until he murmurs, “You.”

“The dream where you get sick…” My heart pounds hard. “It’s about me?”

His arms around me tighten. I can feel his sorrow, an invisible ribbon winding around both of us. Oh, Barrett…

I work to breathe around the lump in my throat, to make my voice normal when I ask, “What happens?”