Reaching down, he picked up a T-shirt off the floor. It was sitting next to a blanket and small bag that he must have brought in with him. He slid the T-shirt over her head and then carefully drew her injured arm through the armhole. It smelled like bergamot and mint. Like Wolfe.
“This is yours?”
He grunted. “When we sleep together, you wear one of my shirts, not theirs.”
It was the first hint of proper jealousy she’d seen and it made her feel slightly uncomfortable. “You don’t like me sleeping with them?”
His eyes narrowed. “When it’s their turn, that’s fine. As long as everyone gets their time alone with you, then I have no problem with it.”
Oh. Okay, that made her feel better.
“Just don’t want you in their shirts while I’m in bed with you.”
She could understand that. “I could wear my own clothes, you know.”
He grunted. “No. Wearing my clothes marks you as mine. Probably a caveman thing, but it makes me feel satisfied.”
She stared at him in shock. Was he admitting to a feeling? He seemed kind of surprised by that himself. And a bit confused.
She knew that he was about to withdraw from her, maybe walk out the door, so she quickly searched for something to distract him. The intimacy of sleeping together was likely a big deal for Wolfe.
“What’s the blanket for?”
A hint of red entered his cheeks. Her mouth dropped open. She quickly slammed it shut. Last thing she wanted was to embarrass him further.
It was just . . . Wolfe? Embarrassed? She hadn’t realized it was possible.
“It’s a weighted blanket,” he explained. “Caleb got it for me when I was having trouble sleeping after leaving the SEALs. I thought with your nightmares, I know that you like being held at night and I . . . you know what, maybe it’s a stupid idea . . .”
“No.” She stood and walked over to him. “It’s a great idea. It might be just what I need.”
He frowned. “What did I tell you about walking around?” He picked her up and set her down on the armchair in the corner before crouching to inspect her foot. He muttered over some slight swelling.
And he was back. She dropped her head to hide a smile. At least he’d opened up a little. It was more than she’d ever had from him. Or really expected him to give her.
“I’m fine, Wolfe.”
“You’d say you were fine even if you were half dead.”
Her gaze shot up, shocked he’d gathered that. It was true. She was used to deflecting. To pretending everything was all right. Sometimes she wasn’t even sure what was a lie and what was the truth.
“I wish you’d just tell the truth.”
She winced. “I’m sorry. I’ll try. It’s just habit, saying that I’m all right.”
“It’s okay not to be.”
“What?”
“It’s okay not to be all right. You can tell us how you really feel. We won’t punish you for not being all right.”
“That was very . . . I mean, when did you become so . . . so . . .”
“That’s what your father did, right? Caleb told us he wanted you to be perfect all the time.”
She cleared her throat. “Yeah. I wasn’t ever to voice what I really thought or how I really felt. I was a puppet for what he and William wanted me to say or do. Sometimes I’m not sure who the real me is anymore.”
He nodded. “I understand.”