More Than Anything (Broken Pieces #1)(66)

He unlocked the door, and it flew open. Greyson stormed in, looking wild and ready to do battle. His hair was messy and sticking up on one side, and he had a sleep crease on one of his cheeks. He wore pajama bottoms and nothing else. Which was still better than Harris, who was practically nude.

“Is Tina okay?” Greyson asked urgently.

“She’s fine. She had a nightmare.” Harris kept his voice pitched low so that Tina wouldn’t hear him. “She had one Saturday night too. I think it’s the same one.” He couldn’t keep the concern from creeping into his voice, and Greyson’s gaze sharpened as he took in Harris’s clothing, or lack thereof.

“I’m guessing this isn’t a friendly neighborly visit,” he said, folding his arms over his chest while his mouth tilted up sardonically on one side. That smug, know-it-all grin irritated the living hell out of Harris.

“That’s none of your concern,” he said, sounding as stuffy as Greyson usually did.

“You’re sure Tina’s okay?” his twin asked again, and Harris nodded. “Jesus, I won’t be forgetting the sound of those screams anytime soon. They were spine chilling.”

“I know,” Harris said grimly. He needed to have a talk with Tina.

“Right. I’ll leave you to it. Good night.” He opened the front door and shuddered dramatically. “God, it’s freezing!”

He threw his shoulders back as he braced himself and stepped out into the cold, wet night, dashing back home on his bare feet. Harris shut and locked the door behind the other man and, after getting a glass of water from the kitchen sink, he padded back to Tina’s bedroom.

She had dragged on a T-shirt and looked a lot more composed, which he was grateful for, even though he silently lamented the fact that her defenses were firmly back in place. He knew he’d get little to no information about the nightmare from her now.

He sat down on the edge of the bed beside her and handed her the water. She took a thirsty gulp before rewarding him with a smile.

“Thank you.” He said nothing in response to that, instead reaching over to smooth a few stray curls out of her damp face.

“Better?” he asked after she’d drained the glass. She nodded, and he took the glass from her to place it on the bedside table.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, keeping her eyes downcast.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” he said, his voice gruff with emotion. “But—”

She lifted her eyes to meet his concerned gaze. “Don’t ask, Harris,” she said, her voice firm. “I’m not prepared to discuss it.”

“Then it’s the same nightmare,” he said matter-of-factly.

“I could go for months without having one. It’s been a while since I’ve had two so close together.”

“Am I the trigger?” The question was hard to ask, because he wasn’t sure he could handle the answer, but he needed to know.

The pause before she replied was significant and telling. And it just about killed him.

“Sometimes,” she admitted, and he successfully smothered the urge to mutter something vile. Depressed by the fact that while he had been entertaining thoughts of more with her, hope for a future . . . he sometimes triggered nightmares that made her scream in absolute terror. How the hell was he supposed to live with that demoralizing fact?

“Can you tell me what it’s about?”

“No. I told you, I’m not prepared to discuss it.”

“Tina—”

“Harris,” she interrupted impatiently. “Drop it or leave. On second thought . . . just leave. Please.”

“What if you have another nightmare?”

“I won’t.”

“Tina. About us—”

“Not the time, Harris.” Her words were delivered in a no-nonsense tone of voice that brooked no argument.

“I’ve changed my mind about leaving tomorrow.” The words were out before he’d even realized he’d made the decision, and she had a moment’s hesitation before gracing him with the tiniest of smiles.

“Good.”

He felt an overwhelming sense of relief, and he exhaled on a slow, shuddering sigh. And there it was again, irrepressible and steadfast.

Hope.

He didn’t trust himself to speak; instead he nodded and pushed himself up, gathering his clothes and dragging them on quickly and efficiently. When he was done, he captured her eyes with his determined gaze.

“Try to get some sleep.”

“I will.”

“Do you need anything else?” he asked, and her eyes flickered and dropped to his crotch. The dip in her gaze was so fast that, if he hadn’t been watching her closely, he would have missed it. But it had happened, and it fed his ever-increasing hope. He felt it expanding in his chest, warming him from the inside out.

“N-no. Thank you.”

She folded her arms over her chest, giving off some unmistakable “keep away” vibes, and he made an animalistic sound in the back of his throat—shocking himself in the process—before deliberately ignoring the defensive body language and closing the distance between them. He bent and dropped a hard kiss on her mouth.

“We’ll talk tomorrow.” Even Harris wasn’t sure if his words were a promise or a threat.