Page 18 of It's a Brewtiful Day

Elliot sat first, pushing himself as far to one side as possible and he opened his arms. I cradled in, my backside squeezing in between his thigh and the arm of the chair. Ordinarily, it would’ve been massively uncomfortable, but tonight, I threw comfort out the window. Not only was I damp and cold, but I was also stricken with terror and a bladder that threatened to release like a dam.

It wasn’t a great combo.

I draped my legs over him, crossing them tight at the ankles. His left arm pulled my body and head firmly against his chest and his right arm secured my legs—until the flash of lightning once again brightened the darkened space, and he clamped a hand over the exposed ear.

Against his body, and against my strictdefiance to not let a man take care of me, I broke.

It was happening all over again, and I wasn’t where I needed to be to deal with this. Although, given the situation, Elliot was beyond gentle and sweet, he was genuine in his concern.

His grip tightened to my quivering. “It’s okay, Sage. You’re here. I’ve got you. You’re completely safe.”

True to his word, he held me close for what felt like forever while I securely broke down in his arms. Minutes—or maybe hours—passed, although it could’ve been days for all I knew.

“Are you sleeping?” he whispered, stroking my head.

“No,” I whispered back, uncurling my clenched fist and feeling a rush of blood pulsating into my fingertips.

“You hadn’t moved in a while. I figured maybe you’d been worn out and caught a few zzzs.”

As exhausted as I was, I’d been laying there with my head on his chest, focusing on his even breaths and the steady beating of his heart. Whenever a roll of thunder started, his heart ticked faster in response, and after a bit, it was somewhat soothing to listen to and depend on.

“Fat chance of me sleeping, especially here of all places.” I moved my head, feeling a sharp kink form in my neck from the awkward position I’d been in. “The only thing I’ll be catching is a few more rounds of therapy.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

“Nope.” I pushed away slightly, and cool air rushed over my chest and cheek. “Thank you.”

“Thank you? For what? Asking if you want to talk about it?” A puzzled look knitted itself in the deep V of his eyebrows.

I blinked and flexed my jaw, releasing a slow breath. “For … this.” I dared not say the words. It would seem silly. Besides, I was incredibly embarrassed, even though Elliot had proven beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was a rock star. Almost better at comforting me than Cassie. Certainly sweeter to snuggle against.

I shook my head, trying to shake away the thought. Even if I did appreciate everything he just did, he was just being Elliot—sweet and kind, like he was with everyone. I wasn’t anyone special.

Clearing my throat, I deflected away my irrational thoughts. “Do you think the storm has passed?”

“I do, and it’s moving quickly. The cracklings had reduced to rumbles and even those are much farther away. Last one was over thirty seconds between the flash and the sound.”

“You count?”

“An old habit I adopted as a kid. It helped pass the time. My sister was always scared of storms, not to your level though, and counting between flash and crack always helped. That and telling her the gods were having a bowling tournament.”

“A bowling tournament, really?” It was enough to make me smile though.

“It worked, and she wasn’t afraid. It’s all science anyway. The electrical charges are what thunder and lightning are all about.”

“I know. I took science in high school,” I chuckled slightly, but still kept my voice low. In the darkened space, it didn’t seem right to have it any louder than a whisper.

“Well, good.” He wiggled his legs beneath mine. “Are you okay to stand up?”

I narrowed my eyes but nodded. “Oh, yeah, of course. I’m so sorry.”

Twisting slightly, I put my feet down on the floor and pushed out of his embrace with a bit of a grunt. My neck was decidedly sore and kinked, so I moved it from side to side to help soothe the muscles, massaging the sore spots with my thumb and forefinger.

In the muted darkness, Elliot was still sitting in my chair.

“Are you okay?” I asked, hoping he wasn’t hurt.

“I think I lost feeling in my left leg. I was sitting in a weird spot. I’m just wiggling my toes to recirculate things.”