I’m faintly aware of the most masculine smell and the feel of gentle hands shaping my waist.

“Come on, Red. I tried to be a gentleman and respect your wishes, but your wishes are bullshit. I stayed out of here as long as I could, and it drove me crazy to do it. I’m not leaving you sleeping on my bathroom floor.”

That comment has my eyelids dragging open as awareness seeps back in that I am indeed still in the bathroom. It’s no longer light out and the kink in my neck is causing more discomfort than any actual sense of nausea.

Cade’s hands slide into my armpits and lift me. I go with him, leaning into him once I’m standing. He wraps an arm around my waist to support me without even blinking.

“Let’s go,” he whispers. I can feel the rasp of his beard against my ear, and suddenly I’m wide awake and intimately aware of the fact I have not brushed my teeth.

“Go where?” I blink at him, groggy and still trying to get my bearings.

“My bed.”

I blink with more intention now. “Come again?”

“It’s closest to a toilet if you need it. Don’t be weird about it. It makes sense.”

His logic isn’t flawed. It’s the same reasoning I used last night with Luke. “Okay, fine. But I need to brush my teeth.”

He rolls his eyes and I watch his jaw work. “I don’t care about your breath, Red. I’m not taking you there to make out.”

I laugh, but my biggest question is, Why not?

While I brush my teeth, he stands in the bathroom doorway, arms crossed, glaring at me like I’m an inmate and he’s a warden or something.

When I finish, he holds out a hand to me, and I take it, letting him lead me through the quiet house toward his bedroom. I tug him to a stop outside of Luke’s room and peek in at his little body rolled up in a blanket with plastic sticky stars glowing on the ceiling. I can’t help but smile, relieved that he seems to be resting comfortably.

“Was he feeling better?” I ask, before glancing up at his dad.

“Yeah. He’s going to be fine. Fever broke and everything. It’s you I’m worried about now. You two are giving me some extra grays today.”

I smile and drop my gaze. “Ah, well. They look good on you.”

He says nothing, but as he pulls me the rest of the way down the hall toward the master bedroom, his thumb rubs soft circles on the protruding bone in my wrist.

“In,” he orders, pointing at the enormous bed.

“Aye, aye, Captain.” I salute, but it’s weak and tired, and I feel overwhelmingly relieved to be crawling into his bed.