CHAPTER 40

jackson

A loud bang startled me out of my sleep, and I sat upright, bleary-eyed and disoriented. What the fuck? Was someone trying to break in? Tess, on the other hand, couldn’t be fucking bothered as she snored away at the foot of my bed.

“Some fucking guard dog,” I grumped to the girl who wouldn’t hear me anyway. Tossing off the blanket, I grabbed a shirt off the dresser and struggled into it as I stormed down the hall to the stairs. Whatever the fuck was going on, it had to fucking stop. I needed sleep. I wanted my fucking sleep.

Any fight I had disappeared when I rounded into the kitchen and saw West furiously scrubbing a pot. Every fucking pan I owned lined the counters along with all my mugs and glasses, piled on dish towels and bath towels after being scrubbed clean. Except I knew they hadn’t been used. Not a single one of them.

Which meant that West had cleaned out my cabinets to clean everything. Anxiously clean them.

Fuck .

I ran a hand through my hair as I watched him spiral. His entire body was rigid, tension wracking his muscles. What the hell had incited this? Was this because I painted and redid everything for him?

Whatever it was, I knew I couldn’t leave him like this.

“I’m turning off the water, West,” I announced as I came up behind him, careful not to scare the hell out of him and get my ass kicked.

“I’m fine,” West snapped, his voice cracking.

“I know. I’m going to take the sponge now, West.” My hand covered his. It took a moment but he relented, letting me set it down in the sink. “We’re going to go sit down in the living room now.”

“I’m fine,” he reiterated. The rising tension in his voice suggested otherwise, but I wasn’t about to argue with him. If he needed to feel like he was, then I’d let him.

“I know,” I repeated. And then I warned, “Hands on the shoulders, West.”

I gave him a chance for the words to register before I took him by the shoulders. I felt him flinch, but he didn’t pull away.

“I need to clean all that shit up,” West said while I guided him from the room.

“Yeah, and you will,” I told him. He stalled for a second, and I ushered him to the couch. “But it’s one in the morning. I’m tired and you’re tired, so we’re going to sit in the living room for a while.”

“But—”

“Just for a little while,” I interrupted. “We’ll clean everything up later, okay?”

“Okay,” he muttered. He didn’t fight me as I sat him down on the couch. Nor did he fight me as I grabbed the nearest blanket and covered him with it. I’d read that people with anxiety found blankets comforting and relaxing. I didn’t have a clue if that was true for him, but it couldn’t hurt to try. Fuck, I’d try anything at this point if it’d bring him a few moments of comfort or peace.

“Reality TV is my guilty pleasure,” I admitted, telling him something I didn’t fucking tell anyone. That was shit I didn’t need getting out. While he wrapped himself up in the blanket, I sat next to him and propped my feet up on the L of the couch. “I like watching other people do stupid shit.”

He made a quiet sound but said nothing as I turned on the TV. I mindlessly scrolled through my options until I settled on a stupid mass dating show. It was always messy and ridiculous, but I found it entertaining nonetheless. And hopefully, it’d distract West long enough to let him relax.

My tired brain zoned out on the screen, barely catching a word said. I was determined to stay up with him, but fuck, it was hard. All I wanted to do was go back to sleep. Somewhere in the middle of it all, a slight bump and pressure on my shoulder made me freeze. I glanced down to see West had fallen asleep. Good. Minding my movements, I lowered his head into my lap and waited with the expectation that it’d wake him up. It didn’t.

Pressing my luck, I brushed his hair away from his forehead. Instead of pulling away or waking up, he sighed—the sound quiet and content. I adjusted the blanket around his shoulders and just stared at him as I ran my fingers through his hair for comfort. His or mine, I didn’t know. It was just oddly nice sitting there with his head in my lap. He looked peaceful. More peaceful than he had in a long time.

I whistled just loud enough for Tess to hear me from upstairs. She bounded down the stairs, tail wagging with excitement. I shook my head. Some guard dog. Good thing no one had actually tried to break in. Coming around the side of the couch, she sat.

“Gentle,” I ordered in a hush. Her ears perked up as she waited patiently. I pointed to the far end of the couch and said, “Up.”

She hopped up on the far end, nearly landing on West’s feet.

“Crawl,” I told her. Laying down, she inched across the couch, lining up along West’s chest. She nudged her way under his arm. He shifted slightly, his body curling around hers and his fingers burying in her fur as he held her closer. I whispered, “Good girl.”

With my fingers brushing through West’s hair, I closed my eyes and rested my head against the back of the couch. Was it the most comfortable way to sleep? No. But honestly? It was nice.