Six of Hearts(70)

I’ve never seen such a huge man look so small.

Switching the lamp on low, I go to his side, finding he’s still asleep, in the midst of what seems to be a bad nightmare. It’s odd that I’d only just been thinking about my own experience with nightmares earlier tonight. He’s wearing boxer shorts and no top, sweat glistening on his skin. I hover over him, not sure if I should wake him up or leave him alone. He’s a fully grown man, but in this moment it’s like he’s reverted back to a child.

Hesitantly, I place my hand on his shoulder, whispering, “Jay, wake up. Jay, you’re having a nightmare.”

His body jerks and his eyes snap open; he grabs the hand that’s touching him tightly, painfully.

“Jay.” I wince. “Let go. It’s just me. It’s Matilda.”

At hearing my name, something seems to jolt him. Instead of letting go of my hand, he pulls on it, though more gently now. He drags my body onto his bed, pulling the covers over us both and wrapping his arms and legs around me. I’m trapped, but I don’t mind.

“Matilda,” he whispers.

There’s something about the way he says it that makes me wonder if he’s awake, or still half dreaming. His arms are warm and comforting around me as he presses his lips to the back of my neck.

“Stay,” he murmurs.

I inhale the heady scent of him, feeling like I’ve been encapsulated in a bubble of Jay, and I probably couldn’t leave even if I wanted to. His breathing evens out after a while, and he’s sleeping deeply again. Only a short while later, I drift off, too.

The next time I wake up, I’m alone in the bed and it’s morning. I can hear the pan sizzling downstairs, the smell of bacon making my mouth water. Getting up, I pay a quick visit to the bathroom before going down to the kitchen.

“Morning sleepyhead,” says Jay with a smile as I sit down at the table and pour myself some juice.

“Morning,” I reply, not looking at him.

He comes over and slides some bacon onto my plate. “So,” he begins smugly, “you snuck into bed with me last night. That was a nice surprise.”

My heart thumps at his words. “What?”

“I woke up with a beautiful woman in my arms. Not a bad way to greet the day, especially considering I went to bed alone.” He winks.

“You don’t remember,” I say in realisation, inwardly purring at him calling me beautiful for the second time. I could get used to that.

He takes the chair opposite me and sits, his brow furrowing. “Don’t remember what, darlin’?”

“I woke up because I could hear you having a nightmare. It sounded bad, so I went into your room to try to calm you down. Then you pulled me onto your bed and wouldn’t let me go. Me being there seemed to help you sleep, so I stayed.”

He scratches his gorgeously sleep-ruffled hair. He seems embarrassed for the first time ever. “Ah, yeah. I have trouble sleeping sometimes. It’s a problem.”

“Do you have insomnia?”

“You could call it that. Basically, my brain won’t shut down enough for me to get a good night’s sleep. It goes on for weeks, and then I’ll conk out for an entire day from exhaustion. Then the cycle will start all over again.”

“That sounds awful. Have you tried medicating for it?”

“I’ve tried lots of stuff. None of it works 100 percent. If I take sleeping pills, they make me drowsy, but they don’t make me sleep. Basically, I’m awake but more tired than I would’ve been if I didn’t take the pills. I have a technique that works most of the time.”

“A technique?”

“Yeah, I pace, reciting lists in my head. All of the things I’ve achieved and all the things I plan to achieve. Listing them relaxes me enough to sleep most nights. The problem is, if I haven’t completed something, it niggles at me when I recite the list, which screws everything up and keeps me awake.”

Oh, so that’s what the pacing is about. It’s a little concerning that he needs to do something like that in order to sleep. Still, I don’t want to be critical, so I reassure him.

“Ah, yeah, I get that. You know, that’s a really good technique. I read somewhere once that we replay the day in our heads before we go to sleep. It gives us a sense that everything is done and dusted.”

Jay looks at me for a long minute, so long that I start to get self-conscious. “I sleep better when you’re with me,” he says, voice low.

I try to make light of his seriousness, ignoring the tingles beneath my skin. “Like in a pile? You’re such a big kid.”

Something tugs at his lips. “Doesn’t have to be a pile. There are a number of positions I’m partial to. You want me to show you?”