“You haven’t slept in weeks,” Fiona argued. “And honestly...you kind of smell.” She wrinkled her nose.
I stopped right in front of her. “I do not.”
“You went for a run earlier.” She shrugged.
“And I showered after.” I drew up short. I did not smell.
“Fine, maybe you already showered, but I bet another one would feel great,” she urged, wiggling her fingers in between Skye’s body and my chest.
“Fiona,” I said, my voice lowered in warning. It wasn’t that I was against her taking Skye, but damn it, the woman needed sleep, too. She cooked and cleaned, and took care of my little demon all day.
“Brogan,” she mimicked with a totally overexaggerated scowl.
I scoffed.
She stole Skye right out of my hands. “You can have her back after you shower,” she promised, tossing me a wink and heading down the hall, keeping my pacing path. “We’ll still be here, wearing holes into the hardwood floor.”
“You stole her.”
“Fair and square,” she called out over her shoulder. “Now go. Shower. Unwind.”
Recognizing defeat, I left Skye with Fiona and did as I was told.
The best thing about showering? It was the only place I could truly feel my muscles unwind because I couldn’t hear Skye fussing, which meant I only got to do it when Fiona was on demon-duty. It was like doing a hard reset on my laptop—I came back more relaxed and ready to handle whatever Skye could throw at me.
Turns out that three-and-a-half-month-olds can throw a lot.
Steam filled the walk-in shower and I breathed in deep, letting the water work the tension from my shoulders and back.
I was so fucking tired.
It was one thing to proclaim to the rest of humanity that I was fine, that I was keeping up the way all new parents had to, but another to just let myself admit it—I was exhausted. Today, I’d fallen asleep standing at the kitchen counter, and earned one shattered coffee mug in the process.
How much longer could she go on sleep-strike? I was ready to meet whatever her demands were.
I stayed a minute longer than it took to actually scrub myself clean with some peppermint soap that was supposed to keep me awake and refreshed, and got out of the shower, killing the fan in the bathroom as I towel-dried my hair.
It was so blissfully fucking quiet.
I knotted the towel at my waist and it hit me.
It was too quiet. Something was wrong. It had to be. Skye was never silent this time of night.
Barely keeping my feet from slipping on the tile floor, I lunged for the door and flew through my bedroom, dodging the piles of clothes I’d dropped there fifteen minutes earlier and burst into the hallway.
There was no sign of Fiona or Skye.
Panic seized my heartbeat as I skidded to a halt in the hallway, the soles of my feet slick on the hardwood.
The door to Skye’s room opened and Fiona backed out, her arms empty.
“Fiona—”
She spun, whipping her finger over her mouth in silent demand for quiet.
My jaw hit the ground. Had to admit, in a world where almost no one talked back to me, it would have been a fucking turn-on to have her standing up to me if I wasn’t paralyzed with fear that something had happened to Skye.
“Where is she?” I asked the second she got the door closed. My feet carried me forward without conscious thought.
Fiona fell back against the wall opposite the door, letting her head rest against the drywall. “She’s asleep.”
I stopped right in front of Fiona, my head nearly going all Exorcist between Fiona’s face and Skye’s closed door. “I’m sorry?”
Fiona’s bright blue eyes opened, locking with mine and she smiled softly. “I said she’s finally, totally, completely, knocked-out asleep. You must have worn her out.”
My mouth opened, then shut. “She’s...asleep.”
Fiona flat-out grinned as she nodded. “She’s asleep.”
Relief. Amazement. Wonder. It all hit me at the same time. She was asleep.
“You are fucking magical. Thank you!” Before I thought about what I was doing, my hands were on her face and I kissed her hard and fast in thanks. It was over in a second—maybe less. Holy shit, what the fuck did you just do?
Fiona stared up at me, her features mimicking the shock I felt.
“Fuck. Fiona…” I shook my head and put my hands up, taking an immediate step back.
Her gaze fell to my lips, then down my bare chest, her eyes widening by the second as her breath hitched.
“I’m so sorry. So, so sorry,” I blurted. Was I seriously out here in a towel?
“Don’t be.” Then her hands were on my face, her lips pressed against mine.
Soft. So fucking soft. She gently sucked at my lower lip, and I groaned, moving forward until I had her caged against the wall, my palms braced on either side of her head.