Page 37 of Rescuing Ally: Part 1
“I’ll survive,” he says with a wry smile. “Hank will be back. Then I’ll take care of it.”
My body weighs heavy with exhaustion, but my mind is hyperalert. Aware of Hank’s shadow moving behind the frosted glass and the soft sounds he tries to muffle. When Hank slips back into the bedroom, Gabe untangles himself from my grip.
I shift, instinctively seeking Hank’s warmth. He pulls me into his arms, and I breathe in his clean scent as I settle against his chest. My body relaxes completely, trusting, and for the first time in forever, I’m not alone.
Chapter 13
I wake slowly,drifting in that soft space between sleep and awareness, my body warm, heavy, cocooned in something safe. Something solid. Someone solid.
Two someones.
Heat surrounds me, and the quiet rhythm of steady breathing tickles the back of my neck. I don’t move, don’t open my eyes, just absorb the sensation of being held.
By two men at once.
For the first time in what feels like forever, I don’t wake with a jolt of panic.
There’s no cold sweat. No gasping breath. No shadows reaching for me.
Just warmth.
Just them.
But then… it shifts. A rustle of sheets, a slow, careful withdrawal of heat, and I immediately miss it. Miss them.
I force myself to stay still, keep my breaths even, and listen.
The shower turns on, muffling the quiet shuffle of movement. I recognize Hank’s footfalls—steady, deliberate. Gabe’s are lighter and more fluid, moving toward the kitchen.
My heart pounds harder, not from fear but anticipation. They don’t know I’m awake. And right now, I want to hear them talk—about me.
Eyes closed, my ears strain as I track their movements.
“That kiss…” Gabe’s voice rolls through the air, smooth and rich. “Didn’t expect that.”
“The timing, you mean.” Hank’s tone is lower, contemplative. “One minute, she’s having a panic attack?—”
“Next, she’s trying to start something.” I can practically hear Gabe shaking his head. “Girl’s got layers.”
“More strength than she knows.”
“Pure instinct.” There’s something darker in Gabe’s voice now, something rougher. “No hesitation. No shame.”
“No fear,” Hank adds, and my chest tightens at the realization.
Because he’s right.
I trusted them. In the middle of a panic attack, with my mind spiraling into the past, I reached for them. And they didn’t pull away. They didn’t push or demand. They were just… there.
I let out a slow breath and finally open my eyes.
The scent of coffee and sizzling bacon fills the air. My stomach growls, reminding me I barely ate yesterday. I sit, rolling the sleeves of Hank’s shirt. The hem brushes against my thighs as I slide off the bed, my bare feet quiet on the cool floor.
I catch sight of them before they notice me.
Hank stands at the stove, his movements precise as he flips eggs with military efficiency. Gabe leans back in his chair, all lazy confidence, fingers wrapped around a coffee mug, but even in relaxation, there’s an edge to them, a tension coiled beneath the surface.
They’ve been holding back.
