I wanted to tell him that I was fine. That I didn’t need to go home with him or stay at a hotel, but my mouth didn’t move.

God, I was such a wuss. It was pathetic. I could sleep here. There was a lock on the door again.

It would be fine.

I would make sure it was fine.

I wasn’t—

“Luna. I’m tired, baby.” Rip sighed, giving me a gentle squeeze.

I looked up at him, exhaustion weighing down my eyelids. I watched as his hand came toward my face and his finger slipped across the bottom of my eye. There weren’t tears there. There couldn’t be. I had already done enough crying for the next decade. But his finger didn’t go anywhere else; it stayed there, under my eye.

“Let’s go.” He was still speaking softly, his face genuinely exhausted. “You’re not staying here. You’re going to be fine. You don’t want to stay at a hotel? Stay at my place. You don’t want to stay at my place? We’ll get you a room.”

I stared.

“It’s nothing nice, but I got a bed you can take, and a lock on my door, and some food in my fridge.”

I didn’t say anything.

The hand around my wrist loosened and he slipped his fingers through mine once more. “Let’s go,” he tried insisting again.

But I didn’t “go.” I just stood there, trying to imagine what his place looked like, what his bed looked like… and I still didn’t go anywhere. I didn’t want to stay at a hotel, and for some reason I didn’t understand, I didn’t want to stay at his place either. He was my boss first and foremost. My boss.

But Rip was even more tired than I was or wanted to go to bed earlier because he sighed, “All right, baby girl. We’ll stay here.”

* * *

Looking around my bedroom, I blew out a breath that felt like it would have weighed a ton if it had any mass to it, and I wrapped my arms around all the blankets I’d managed to collect from around the house. Lord, I could finally feel every hour I’d been awake in every inch of my bones.

Making my way to the living room, I held everything as tight as possible. The blankets, two pillows… I was going to sleep on the floor, I’d decided. Luckily, the couch was a pull-out sofa, and the assholes who had broken into my house hadn’t bothered doing more than stabbing at a few cushions.

But the same question I’d been wondering over since last night remained. Who the hell would do this to me? Why would they?

The idea of it made me want to throw up. It was so mean…

It’s just stuff.

It was just stuff.

And I had insurance. That was something. I had called them while Rip had gone to the store, and it had taken almost an hour to get everything sorted and in motion.

Something was better than nothing.

I found Rip sitting on my couch with his arms crossed over his chest, staring at the television sitting on the small entertainment center across from it.

If he looked exhausted, I didn’t want to know what I looked like.

“I’m sorry, Rip,” I said, really feeling like a thoughtless ass right about then. How many times had he brought up how tired he was?

“If you want to go home…” I’ll survive alone.

He simply shook his head, and I’d swear on my life his eyes drooped for a moment. “I’m staying here,” he repeated for what had to be at least the fifth time since he’d brought up that option.

“Yeah but…” I made myself say it. “You can go if you’d rather go home.”

“I’m staying.”

Did I really want to beg him? Not really.

“Okay.” I swallowed. “Thank you then.” Focus. “Let me help you make up the sofa bed then—”

“No sofa bed. I can sleep on the couch.”

I eyed the ruined cushions and the length and then weighed the chances of him actually getting any sleep on it.

“Eh, Rip, you’re size ginormous and my couch is size normal.”

He slid me a look that under any other circumstances might have made me laugh. Without another word, that long body unfolded itself from the furniture, getting up to feet that I knew were long, and he turned to me, that handsome face aimed right at me. “Couch is fine, Luna. I’ve got it.”

He had it.

With a nod that I wasn’t completely feeling, I walked up to the couch, beside him, and dropped the mound of sheets and blankets, and extra pillow on the end. I watched as Rip got to his feet as I shook out the sheet and then tucked it into the cushions.

But he didn’t say a word as he watched what I did for long moments before finally asking, “You wanna sleep here too?”

Did he…?

Numbly, at least that’s how I felt, I thought about his question for all of fifteen seconds—if that—and said “Okay” before I could stop myself.

Okay. To sleeping on the couch too.

Who does that?

Me. That’s who. Someone was going to feel really dumb and needy later.

But I’d worry about that afterward. Way afterward. My pride wasn’t so big that I’d try to be tougher than I really was.

Because the truth was: I didn’t want to be alone.

And I was a dummy for thinking that.

But oh well.

“All right,” Ripley said softly… so softly, I couldn’t help but glance at him, wondering where all this tenderness was coming from.

He just feels bad, my brain whispered.

“Come on,” Rip kept speaking, and I looked up to see him dropping onto the couch and leaning back with a big sigh. His arm was up on the back of the seat as he let out a deep, exhausted sigh. “Stretch out here, I can sleep in this corner.”

I blinked, the exhaustion hitting me hard. He wanted me to lie down while he slept sitting up?

“I can sleep anywhere. Come lay down. I need to get some rest.”

I didn’t say anything.

“Everything will be fine,” he said.

Pressing my lips together, I nodded. He was here. I was going to lay down beside him. Okay.

God, how I wished that was true.

It wasn’t, but for tonight, I would take it.

Rip patted the spot beside him. “Come on.”

I did.

I took two steps and plopped down on the couch, one cushion down away from him.

He yawned, watching me the whole time. “You all right?”

“Yeah,” I told him pretty half-heartedly, toeing off my boots. I had forgotten I’d put on Pac-Man socks that morning. It was the most fun I’d wanted to go. That, and all my jewelry had been strewn all over the place.

Before I could realize what he was doing, he reached across the couch and grabbed my hand, pulling it—and me—toward him. I stopped what I was doing and blinked at the sight of his big hand, those long fingers, perfectly short nails, engulfing mine. Then he pulled again, making me stretch out on the couch.

Rip got to his feet, grabbing the pillow and blankets from the armchair. He shook out the blanket right before throwing it on top of me. I just watched him as he stood over the couch, kicking off his shoes, his hands going to the top button of his jeans and undoing it. It was my turn to yawn as he walked to the end of the couch, directly beside where I was laying and plopped down. I could feel the heat of his thigh and the weight of him make my couch sink.

What I wasn’t ready for was the hand that snuck beneath my head and lifted it—Rip lifting my freaking head—, before effortlessly sliding the pillow under my head before his fingertips touched my forehead. “Go to sleep. I’m here,” he said to me.

I looked up, or tried to look behind me, and I saw him stretch out from upside down.

Rip was too busy yawning to notice I couldn’t take my eyes off him. “Sleep, Luna. I’m not going anywhere.”

I didn’t say a word. I didn’t know what to say. Mostly though, I felt exhausted.

Stretching out on the couch, I thought about telling Rip that he should lie down and that I should be the one to sleep upright. I could have slept on the floor.

I rolled over to my side, tucking my hands beneath the pillow under my head. I didn’t think of anything. I just… lay there, listening to Rip’s deep breaths. But I still couldn’t wind down.