It feels like a test—a tale one would read to children about making choices. The daring prince arriving at the young princess’s window where she’s locked away in the supposed safety of her tower. She’s being forced to choose between the love she’s always known, even though it’s caused her pain, or to dive into the unknown depths of the world outside for the small chance of finding a new, free, and unconditional kind of love.
But for me, there’s no choice at all. Because, even if it’s for one night only, I deserve a taste of happily ever after, and I know it starts the second I climb out this window.
22
Sawyer
Did I eat a bucket of sawdust last night or something? Because my mouth feels as dry as a fucking desert. Each swallow is like I’m trying to consume sandpaper as it scratches my throat.
I’m not even moving my head, but it pounds like a jackhammer is smashing into my mind. My leg too. Did I try running a marathon or something? Why does it ache so goddamn much?
Fuck me, I feel like death.
If the room stopped spinning, I might open my eyes and confirm I’m in heaven—or hell more likely. But given my current condition in the first minute of waking, I think letting the morning light into my vision might cause more pain—
Something shifts in my arms.
Followed by a soft, sleepy moan. One I instantly recognise.
My eyes shoot open. I try not to hiss at the burning sunlight pouring through the windows—must have forgotten to closethe blinds, for fuck’s sake. But it’s the least of my concerns when I find ashy-blonde hair directly in front of me and realise there’s a woman in my arms, her soft, warm body flush against me.
Surely not.
Surely she’s not in my bed.
What the fuck happened last night? I thought I watched her leave the bar, the prospect of a second chance going with her …
Anxious not to cause too much noise or movement, not to scare what is likely just a dream away, I slowly slide my arms from her, shuffling back a millimetre at a time. My eyes are still gradually getting used to the light, but once I sit up and focus in on her beautiful, freckled face, they burst open, drinking every inch of her in.
Honey lies there, plush, rose-coloured lips parted, and the corners tilted just the tiniest bit. Long blonde lashes feather over her freckled cheeks. Her hair is splayed across the pillow around her—a halo of white gold. Serenity radiates from her. I remember wishing I could give her this one day all those years ago—a bed to sleep safely in, a home where her worries could be left on the front porch. What I would’ve given to wake up to this.
But that’s all it would ever be—a dream. A future unrealised.
Except, when her eyes flutter open and she turns, blessing me with those clear baby blues as the start of my morning, the shivers rushing through my body sure do feel damnreal.
Honey’s lips pop open, but she stays put and lets her eyes trail over my face, as if she’s trying to decipher if this is real too. Probably better she doesn’t know we were spooning.
‘Morning,’ I start, but it comes out scratchy and I wince.
Honey’s brows drop, but she doesn’t hide her smile—one that tells me she already knows the answer when she asks, ‘How are you feeling?’
I flop back against the headboard. ‘Like I’ve been trampled by a bull—and I know what that feels like from first-hand experience, so I ain’t exaggerating.’
She chuckles, all light and breathy, then rolls onto her back, stretching her arms up with a quiet moan. The elongation of her body has the sheets sliding down and revealing the baggy T-shirt she’s wearing. Her full breasts press against the thin material, hard nipples too visible—an unwelcome and torturous zap of heat hits me down south at the image of her.
God, I must still be a bit drunk from last night because it’s taking a lot more strength than usual not to reach for her. Not to run my fingers over her curves—
Hold on. That isn’t why she’s in my—‘Wait, we didn’t … ?’
‘Oh, no. No,’ she giggles out. ‘I’m not sure you would’ve been in a state to even if that’s what I wanted. It took both me and Wolfman to get you to your room. I just stayed to make sure you got to bed okay and didn’t throw up in your sleep.’
‘Fuck.’ With a groan, I rub my hands over my face, hoping I haven’t gone too red. My head throbs from the movement. What a splash of cold water that image is. It’s probably good that I can’t remember. ‘I’m sorry.’
Honey shimmies herself up next to me, still chuckling, and even though it’s at my expense, I feed off her joy regardless. ‘It’s fine, honestly. It was funny.’
I peek between my fingers at her, my hands then falling at the sight of her bright smile. Knowing she’s not still angry at my behaviour last night, the things I said, is a relief. And I decide I rather like this—waking up and talking to her in the morning. It’s mundane and nice and the way the morning sunshine drizzles her in golden light is fucking beautiful.
I want it every morning.