A Waltz With Wolves (Book II in The Harrison Inc. Series) | ✓

Chapter Fifty-Four: Too Good To Be True

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SEBASTIAN

I like watching her sleep.

She'll never know this, though. Never on my fucking life; I always preach about how ridiculous it is to watch someone as they're deep in slumber, but fuck, I can't help it this time—she looks so beautiful. Angelic, almost. Peaceful, too. I've done this before, watch her sleep. We were at my mom's house in Tennessee. I went through a rough patch, and she slept on the couch in my room through the night. When I woke up, she was still there, wrapped in a blanket up to her neck, eyes soft and without worry. Now is a little different. Now, she's underneath my sheets with the fabric clinging to the titillating curves of her body. Her bare legs stick out through my bedding, her breasts barely covered. Her hair is a mane of curls, frizzed and tangled around her. But through this entanglement of hair, I see her face. This is the first time through the night that she's slept softly; she kept waking up from nightmares or frowning and moaning in her sleep. She's calm now; she knows the sun's up, maybe.

I reach over to move some of the hair away from her face. She's a deep sleeper; she doesn't even stir when I do this. Her face, submerged in the pillow with her lips puckered, makes me smile. I'm smiling, for Christ's sake. Given the week I've had, I never thought I would again.

For once, this moment isn't a "shit" moment—an instance that isn't ruined by the events of my life. Since I woke up, I've been waiting for a bullet through the window, an explosion, screams, or any type of bad news to make this moment turn into shit. And even though I know these things are inevitable given what's to come, I'm just glad this moment hasn't been ruined yet. The sun starts peeking through my curtains, adding a dim glow to the room that sits on Leslie's sleeping body. A haze dances in the air, caught in the sun and illuminating the room like sepia-toned stage lights. If she didn't look angelic enough before, there's no doubt about it now. Fuck, this is too good. Too damn good. I almost forget everything. I almost imagine that her and I are somewhere else without a target on our backs. Maybe I'm dead—maybe Alejandro miraculously escaped Salvador's clutches again and strangled me in my sleep. Maybe this is heaven, which wouldn't make sense considering I've always been certain I would end up "downstairs" instead. But if, for some reason, I'm dead and this is heaven, is it fucked up that I don't mind too much?

When I hear three soft knocks on my door, I'm violently thrown out of heaven, landing face-first in a place worse than hell: earth.

"Just a second," I call out towards the door. I grab the blanket on the edge of the bed and drape it over Leslie's body. She stirs a bit, pulls the blanket up to her neck, then stills again. I frown, hating whoever's on the other side of that goddamn door for making me cover her.

Heaven's over, asshole, my mind teases.

Slowly, I get up, put on my boxers and go into my closet to find a pair of sweats in my dresser. I don't bother on a shirt; they should be grateful I even found the effort to put on pants to answer the door.

The knocks repeat, softer than before but with a sense of urgency in the cadence.

"I'm coming." I rub my eyes, gradually becoming irritated. "Just hold on a second."

I open the door slightly, standing in between the space to block the view of Leslie sleeping. To my surprise, it isn't Isaac or Claude here to wake me up, but Penny. She has her arms crossed, wearing her signature leather jacket and jeans. I sigh out and open the door a little more when I see it's her.

Her smile barely reaches her cheeks. I almost return it until I remember why she's here; it isn't even 8 o'clock yet and I'm being thrust into my problems again.