Chapter 19 · Six Hours

The leak hit me dead between the eyes.

First drop, I tried to pretend I was dreaming. Second one splashed straight into my left ear—ice-cold, sharp enough to make me jerk upright with a curse.

Water was running down the loft ceiling in a greasy silver line. Right over my side of the mattress. Naturally.

"Garrett."

Nothing. Just heavy breathing in the dark.

"Garrett. Wake up. Your roof is bleeding on me."

A low rasp. The whole rusted frame groaned as he rolled over, pine floor groaning right along with it. "Move."

"Move where? Onto the floor? It's forty degrees in here."

He didn't bother arguing. He just swung his legs out. The sudden wave of cold that hit my hip made me realize exactly how much damn heat the man threw off. A week of sleeping six inches apart hadn't taught me half as much as losing him for two seconds.

He grabbed the iron footboard with both hands. Bare feet digging into warped boards, he hauled the entire bed four feet sideways.

The metal screeched like a dying cat. Something inside the drywall gave a wet crack.

"Great," I muttered. "Pull the ceiling down while you're at it."