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Chapter 37: Elodie

I didn't sleep late. Beneath the July sun, even under the canopy of trees at the edge of the lake, the tent became an oven. Sawyer's subzero sleeping bag didn't help matters, nor did the boy himself, who threw off body heat like my own personal furnace. Not that I was complaining about being tucked tight against him. It was comforting to know he wouldn't let me go, even in sleep. No matter how prudish, moronic, or otherwise neurotic I managed to be in the span of twenty-four hours.

Because he loved me.

And that was some kind of miracle. That he was here at all, that he'd come after me, risked his life, was like something out of a dream. Only the fact that I was wrapped in his warm, sleeping scent, his breath fluttering against my neck, let me know that I was awake.

I love you.