23
EVERLY
I wake up wrapped in Rush's arms, and for a moment I just lie still, listening to him breathe. His face is relaxed in sleep, younger somehow without the tension he carries when he's awake. One hand rests on my hip, the other is tucked under the pillow. He's holding me tighter than usual, protective in a way that's new since I told him about the baby.
The morning light filters through the curtains and I can see his leather jacket draped over my desk chair, my lab bag by the door where I dropped it yesterday, small pieces of our separate lives overlapping into something shared.
His eyes open slowly and he sees me watching him. "Morning," he says, his voice rough.
"Morning," I reply softly.
"How long have you been awake?"
"Not long."
He pulls me closer and I settle against his chest.
"I slept," he says quietly.
"Yeah?"
"Really slept. No nightmares, no waking up at three in the morning. Just... sleep."
The admission surprises me because Rush rarely talks about how he sleeps.
"That's good."
"It's different with you here."
I tilt my head to look at him. "Different how?"
"Quieter. Like my brain finally shuts off."
The vulnerability in his voice makes my chest warm. I take his hand and place it on my stomach, not because there's anything to feel yet, but because I know he needs the grounding.
He spreads his fingers wide, covering the space where our baby is growing.
"Still can't believe this is real," he says.
"Me either."
"You scared?"
"Terrified."
"Yeah, me too."
We lie there in the quiet and I realize something has shifted between us. He's always been protective, but this is different. This is him choosing to stay in the fear instead of running from it.
We make coffee together in my tiny kitchen and he leans against the counter, watching me.
"What?" I ask.
"Just thinking."
"About what?"
"About how everyone at the club knows now."