Pause (Larsen Bros)

Reaching up, I stroke his jawline. The harsh stubble leading to the softer skin.

“I couldn’t get to you.”

I inch up until our faces are on the same level. Until we’re looking at each other. And there’s a haunted expression in his eyes that I hate. Nice and gentle, I press my lips to his in a show of benediction. A blessing mixed with gratitude. But one of his hands grabs the back of my head, holding me to him for something longer, deeper. And I’m happy to give.

“You’ve got me,” I say.

“Have I?”

“I’m right here and I’m not going anywhere.”

Nothing from him.

“The accident was horrible and it hurt us, but we survived. We got out of there.”

He lets out a deep breath. “Okay.”

I rest my head back on his shoulder, holding on tight. I didn’t even have the nightmare and I’m scared and shaken. Maybe it’s seeing Leif so affected. I don’t know.

“I think you should talk to someone about these dreams,” I say.

Immediately he tenses beneath me. “Anna, no.”

“Fine. Whatever. Maybe we should go to couple’s therapy, though. I have some concerns.”

“I thought you said we weren’t a couple.”

“No,” I say. “I said our relationship was complicated.”

“Ah.”

“But on the off chance we become a serious couple we’d already have the therapy out of the way. Imagine how healthy our relationship would be!”

He makes a noise in his throat. Disbelief, perhaps. “Is this the sort of couple’s therapy where you drag me along on the pretext of it being about us communicating and then make me talk about my nightmares to a professional?”

“Maybe,” I admit. “All right, yes. But would that really be so bad?”

Nothing from him.

“And it would be amongst discussing our other issues, of course.”

“Such as?”

“Well . . .”

“I’m waiting,” he says, voice on the verge of cranky. This is clearly a difficult topic for him.

“There’s my penchant for being judgy to be considered,” I say. “I can be quite the highfalutin bitch when I set my mind to it, as you’ve noticed on several occasions.”

He snorts. “You’re not so bad.”

“And then there’s my trust issues. We could work on those.”

With a heavy sigh, he draws a line with his fingers up and down my spine. “Anna . . .”

“It’s just a thought.”

“I know.”

I search my mind for the right thing to say and come up empty. Probably because it’s like two in the morning.

“I thought we weren’t rushing things between us,” he says. “Couple’s therapy not even a week into our roommates-with-benefits relationship seems like a hell of a leap.”

“But it could take months to actually get in to see a good therapist.”

A grunt from him.

I just let the silence linger. Right up until I can’t. My mind is going a mile a minute. “The psychologist in the hospital that I talked to really helped me get things sorted out. To manage my expectations and adjust to the new way of things. To overcome the trauma of it all.”

“That’s good. I’m glad.”

“Yeah.”

“But the dreams will go away eventually,” he says. Not even sounding convinced himself. If anything, he seems tired, hurt, and defeated. “I don’t need anyone messing around with the inside of my head.”

“It’s coming up on a year since the accident,” I say in a gentle voice.

“That’s still a ways off.”

“It’s not that far.”

“Hmm,” he says. “I don’t know.”

“Just think about it. I’ll make it worth your while.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Totally,” I say, shuffling up and around until I can nuzzle the side of his face. “I am more than open to bribing you, baby.”

“I’m all ears.”

“Like, I’ll share my skincare routine with you.”

“Wow,” he says in a flat voice.

“Right?” I smile. “That shit’s taken me years to get down and here I am just offering it up for free.”

“I cleanse and moisturize.”

“Yeah, but do you chemically exfoliate before applying a serum, eye cream, hydrating gel, and moisturizer mixed with facial oil for enhanced hydration?”

“Can’t say that I do.”

“There you go. Amateur.” It’s official. Nibbling on Leif’s neck is now my new favorite thing. “I wonder if a therapist would think our attachment was unhealthy due to us meeting through the accident and everything.”

“Where the hell did that come from?” he asks, back to sounding cranky again. Whoops.

“I don’t know. Just a random thought.”

“That’s it. We’re not going to therapy,” he says. “We each have enough hang-ups without that sort of negativity entering into things.”

“They might not say we’re unhealthy. You never know. I was just overthinking things.”

“Mm.” He says nothing for a moment. “Do you worry about that? About our friendship being unhealthy?”

“I didn’t really until now.”

Which is when he rolls me beneath his big body with minimal effort. “New household rule, Anna. No coming up with new problems until we’ve dealt with the ones we have already, okay?”

“That makes sense, I guess.”

“I know you’re a worrier, but we have to keep things in check or we’re both going to get overwhelmed.”