I kind of want to get up and go to the bathroom, but I also kind of don’t want to leave the room without him. Call me scared, but after what happened last night, I really don’t think I want to be alone too much.
I try to shift again, delicately pulling my arm away from Wilder, but he mumbles something before turning over in my direction so that he’s facing me. His eyelids flutter and he slowly blinks, staring at me for a moment as though he doesn’t remember who I am.
“Good morning.”
Recognition spreads across his face. “Morning.” He scoots away abruptly. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay. I think we got a little tangled up last night while we were sleeping.”
“Yeah.”
When I glance down, I notice how the sheet is tented around his waist area, but that’s a common occurrence. Waking up with a hard-on doesn’t mean anything at all, but I have to admit, it does boost my ego a little bit, especially when Wilder doesn’t make any attempt to hide it or put space between us.
“Did you sleep well?” he asks.
“Mostly, yeah. You?”
“The same as always. You must be hungry.”
“I’m just a coffee in the morning kind of guy.”
He nods. “Me too.”
Neither one of us makes any attempt to move, so I continue talking. “I’m sure you probably want to get up and have your space to yourself again.”
He doesn’t say anything, just watches me.
“I’m not gonna lie. I’m pretty freaked out to do anything by myself right now.”
“I understand,” he says softly. “What would you like to do?”
“I need to go to the bathroom.”
“There’s one right there, attached to my room.”
“Oh, I thought that might be a closet.”
“No. I’ll be right here.”
“Okay, thanks.”
I climb out of bed and shuffle to the bathroom, thankful that it’s within the same room and I don’t have to go out exploring the house by myself. While I’m in here taking care of my basic needs, snippets of my weird dream from last night flow back into my mind. Had to be a dream, right? Nothing else makes any sense. I saw my dad too clearly,heardhim too clearly, for it to have been anything but a dream.
Maybe it was just my subconscious wishing that finally, after all these years, I could be important to my dad. That I could matter to him. Instead of comforting me though, it makes me think I might be delusional.
When I exit the bathroom, Wilder is sitting on the edge of his bed, scrolling through his phone. He glances up at me, and his expression softens.
“Everything okay?” I ask.
“Yes, fine. I was just checking some information. I’m going to have a friend come over later and work on the protection spell for the house.”
“A friend?”
“She’s a witch.”
“A witch. Right.”
Wilder chuckles. “You don’t believe in witches?”
