We stand silently, admiring the tapestry, until I can’t fight the urge to hear her voice any longer. “Whaddya think?”

Holly gasps, as if she’d forgotten to breathe for the past five minutes. “This is so much better than my bedroom ceiling.”

I’m confused for a moment before I remember the little plastic stars in her loft bedroom. Seems I chose well.

“Yep. Nothing beats the real thing.”

For the first time since I told her to look up, Holly takes her gaze off the sky to reward me with a grin. “This is amazing. So far, I give this adventure an A-plus.”

Success.

“Is the cold getting to you? Want to head back inside?”

She shakes her head and moves her eyes upward again. “Not yet. Just a few more minutes.”

I keep my stare fixed where it is, finding the view on Earth more appealing.

16

HOLLY

My mind drifts on the edge of sleep. The last thing I remember is snuggling in my quilts on the couch. Now, I’m swaying gently with the sensation of strong arms cradling me. For a moment, I forget I’m twenty-one, thinking Marcus is carrying me to bed like he often did at Grams’s. But the smell of my carrier is different. Marcus had a warm, deep scent, like baking bread. This person smells cool and fresh, like pine trees in new snow.

My eyelids crack just enough to make out a slim nose with glasses perched on the end and slightly curled hair falling over a concentrating brow.

Ben sets me down on my bed, pulls the sheet and quilts over me, and presses a firm kiss on my forehead.

I sigh and clutch the covers close as I ease into the mattress. Safe in my blanket cocoon, I let my eyes close, and sleep reclaims me.

When I wake up again, a dim digital clock at my bedside informs me that it’s just after three a.m. Ben is gone, and everything is quiet.

The city never gets this hushed. Or this dark. No streetlamps or neon store signs shine in through the dense curtains. I’m shrouded completely in blackness and silence. But this isn’t muffling, like when I cover my head with a blanket. This is expansive and daunting.

The quaint cabin might have been pleasant when we first arrived, but now, it sets my nerves on edge. I’m back in horror-movie mode. Especially because I have to pee like a racehorse, which means leaving the wonderful, warm safety of my bed.

I consider briefly the strength of my bladder but admit that, if I don’t want to wet the bed when I fall back asleep, a trek to the bathroom is a must.

Pulling back the covers, I’m relieved to find I still have on my large sweater, leggings, and wool socks. A chill manages to travel through them, but at least I’m not putting my bare feet on the cabin’s frigid hardwood floor. Only the muted glow of the alarm clock gives me any light. If I knew where my phone was, then I would use the flashlight on it, but apparently, when Ben carried me to bed, he didn’t bring my phone along with him.