Chapter 37 The Empty Bed
Leela turned to the dresser dedicated to sleepwear. It was stocked with silk slips and satin robes, but she bypassed those, reaching into a lower drawer. She pulled out a matching set of pajamas made of the softest, fuzziest grey fleece she had ever felt.
She changed quickly, the material feeling like a warm hug against her skin, and climbed into the four-poster bed.
The mattress was like a cloud. The sheets were cool and crisp. The pillows were perfectly fluffed. It was, objectively, the most comfortable bed she had ever laid in.
And she hated it.
She tossed to the left. She turned to the right. She stared up at the ceiling, where the shadows of the tree branches outside danced in the moonlight.
It was too quiet. It was too still. And there was just too much space.
For the last five nights, she had fallen asleep to the sound of the wind in the trees and the steady, rhythmic drumbeat of Fennigan’s heart right next to her ear. She had grown used to his warmth, to the weight of his arm, to the feeling of being anchored.
Now, she felt untethered. She clutched a pillow to her chest, squeezing her eyes shut, thinking of him. She thought about how he had held her in the hammock, how safe she had felt.
I just want him here, she thought, the longing aching in her chest right alongside the stone.
Suddenly, there was a soft tap at the door.
Leela sat up, clutching the duvet. "Come in?"
The door creaked open, revealing Fennigan. He was wearing low-slung pajama pants and a t-shirt, his hair messy, his eyes heavy with sleep but alert with concern.
"Leela?" he whispered.
He stepped into the room, leaving the door cracked.
"Are you okay?" he asked, walking to the side of the bed. "I was asleep, but... I felt you. You felt restless. Sad."
Leela looked up at him, the moonlight catching the silver in his eyes. She didn't try to hide it.
"I miss you," she admitted, her voice small in the big room. "I’m sorry, I know that sounds stupid, but..."
"It’s not stupid," he interrupted gently.
"You've been beside me for the last four or five nights," she explained, gesturing to the empty expanse of the mattress. "This bed... it feels like an island. I can't sleep."
Fennigan didn't hesitate. He didn't ask for permission; he knew she needed him just as much as he realized, in that moment, that he needed her.
He padded softly around the bed to the empty side. He pulled back the covers and climbed in.
The mattress dipped under his weight, and instantly, the room felt right again.
He shifted closer, sliding his arm under her pillow and wrapping his other arm securely around her waist, pulling her back against his chest. He buried his face in her hair, inhaling her scent.
The heat radiating from him was better than any blanket. The sound of his heart—thump-thump, thump-thump—filled her ear, drowning out the silence of the house.
"Better?" he murmured against her neck.
Leela let out a long breath, her muscles melting instantly. The stone in her chest hummed a happy, low note.
"Much," she whispered.
She turned in his arms just enough to find his lips. She kissed him—a soft, sleepy seal on their promise to always be there.
"Goodnight, Wolf Boy," she mumbled, her eyes already closing.
"Goodnight, Sparky."
And within seconds, they were both asleep