Page 25 of Sick(ness)

Perhaps they could survive this after all.

* * *

Addy woke to warmth. Real warmth. The blanket was soft against her cheek, the faint crackle of last night’s fire still whispering in the hearth. For the first time in… God, she couldn’t even remember how long she was comfortable. Warm.

She sighed softly, eyes still closed, pressing her face into the pillow beneath her. It was firm and warm, with a slow, steady rhythm beneath it, a faint, comforting beat. She smiled drowsily, nestling closer. The pillow held the essence of soap and pine, and wood smoke.

Then her brain caught up.

A heartbeat.

Her eyes snapped open.

She wasn’t curled against a pillow; she was curled against Sawyer.

Panic surged through her chest as her mind scrambled to catch up with her body. She was tucked neatly against his side, her head resting over his heart, one of her legs thrown halfway over his. His arm was draped loosely around her waist, not holding her, just there, heavy and natural, as if this was how they’d always slept.

Addy’s breath caught. She tilted her head up, and her heart sank straight through the mattress.

He was awake.

Sawyer’s dark eyes were open, calm, and faintly amused. The faintest curve tugged at the corner of his mouth, the barest shadow of a smile that said he’d been awake long enough to know exactly what had happened.

“Oh my God,” she blurted, jerking upright so fast she nearly fell off the bed. Her face flamed. “I…I’m so sorry! I must’ve…I didn’t mean… I don’t usually—”

He raised an eyebrow, propping himself on one elbow, watching her stumble over her own words. “You don’t usually?” he echoed, his voice still thick with sleep.

“Cuddle people in my sleep!” she said, horrified, tugging the blanket up as if it might hide her embarrassment. “I’m not…ugh…this isn’t like me. I just…it was cold, and—”

A quiet laugh escaped him then, low and rough from disuse. It was the first time she’d actually heard him laugh, and it made her cheeks burn hotter.

“Relax,” he said, still smiling faintly. “You didn’t assault me in my sleep or anything. My virtue is still intact, I promise.”

She shot him a look, but his grin only deepened.

“It’s fine, Addy. Human nature,” he added with a small shrug, settling back against the pillow. “Body heat and all that. You were freezing when we went to bed. I probably moved closer without realizing it, too.”

She huffed out a breath, somewhere between mortified and relieved. “Still… sorry,” she muttered, rubbing her face. “Guess I’m not used to sharing a bed with someone who isn’t a pillow.”

Sawyer’s smile softened at that, less teasing now, more understanding. “No harm done. Besides,” he said, glancing toward the window where pale morning light was creeping through the frosted glass, “you slept. That’s what matters.”

Addy exhaled, shoulders slumping a little as the tension drained from her. He was right; she’d slept, deeply and dreamlessly, the first time since the world had gone to hell.

“Yeah,” she said quietly. “I actually did.”

He nodded once, his expression shifting back to the practical steadiness she was beginning to recognize in him. “Good. Because once we eat, we’ll need to figure out how far the nearest town is. See what we’re working with.”

“Right,” she said quickly, grateful for the change of subject. She stood, tucking her hair behind her ear and avoiding his gaze as she grabbed her coat.

Still, as she turned toward the small kitchen area, she couldn’t help glancing back once.

Sawyer had closed his eyes again, one arm folded behind his head, that faint smirk still playing on his lips.

And as mortified as she was, Addy couldn’t help thinking, just for a fleeting second, that waking up like that hadn’t been the worst way to start the day.

* * *

After a breakfast of oatmeal, simple, plain, yet somehow amazing after days of eating canned food, Addy leaned back in her chair, watching as Sawyer moved around the tiny kitchen with surprising ease. He succeeded in making the oatmeal palatable, adding only a tiny bit of salt and a couple of spoonfuls of sugar from the cupboard. It wasn’t much, but after everything they’d been through, it seemed like a feast.