Page 58 of Echoes in the Storm

“This week’s going too fast,” I say quietly, reaching for her butt.

She smirks as I take a decent handful and squeeze. “It doesn’t have to be just a week. You could stay longer, or come back.”

“I’ve got counselling to start, and a job to find. I need to spend some time with Mum, make up for being such a jerk to her.”

She sighs out her nose, her eyes hard. “Guess I better put in more hours and get my dungeon finished, then.”

She cracks up laughing as I tickle her sides. “Is that so? You going to lock me up, keep me all for yourself?”

“Is that such a bad idea?” she asks between gasped breaths. “Honestly, Duke, stop tickling me.”

I relent, waiting until she’s caught her breath to kiss her. “Take a day off,” I plead. “Skip work for one day so we can hang out together.”

“You want me to pull a sickie?” Her words protest the thought, but her eyes say she’s all in.

“Yeah. Show me around, babe. Show me what it is you love about this town.”

“It’s totally going to look dodgy when I turn up at the show looking fit as a fiddle.”

“So, say you had a migraine. How they going to know you’re lying?”

“Um,” she says, tapping a finger to her lips. “They might know my excuse is bullshit when I’m spotted around town with you.”

“We’ll make it a mission then.” I put on my best authoritarian voice. “Operation Sight-Seer. Your mission is to show me the best parts of Burbank without anyone of note knowing our whereabouts.”

She does a lame-as-fuck salute, giggling. “Mission accepted.”

“Now put your head on my shoulder and go to sleep, woman, because I want you rested for your big day.”

She smiles, yet does as she’s told and tucks her head onto my shoulder, her nose brushing my throat ever-so-slightly. I thread my fingers in her hair, pulling my arm away to let the lengths runs through my grasp, and then repeat the action.

“Duke?”

“Yeah, Cam?”

“I’m so glad your brother doesn’t know how to pick a good car.”

I silently chuckle, keeping the sound trapped in my chest. “Me too.”

A few more minutes pass with me stroking her hair, and Cammie seemingly drifting off.

“Can I turn the lamp off? Do you think you’ll be okay?” She startles the hell out of me when she speaks again.

Will I be okay? I want to say having her beside me will calm the irrational side of my mind, but I’m not sure. I never had anyone since I got home. I’ve got nothing to compare this to.

“Flick it off. I can always turn it back on after you go to sleep.”

“Okay.” Cammie reaches out, clicking the switch on the cord.

My muscles tense, my body stiff beneath her as I remind myself where I am, who I’m with.

“You okay?”

“I think so.”

She hums, shifting around so that her arms are tucked under my shoulders, her forearms cradling my head. It’s such a simple position, one a person might assume purely to be comfortable, but knowingwhyshe does it tears me apart. Her arms give me a false sense of security, make me feel encased and secure. She does it to make me feel better, but what she doesn’t realise is thatshemakes me feel better. Not what she does, but who she is.

“Can I ask you a question?” She sounds so unsure of herself, which is rare.