CHAPTER 5
Sam groggily cracked open an eyelid when her peaceful sleep was disturbed by the creaking of her bedroom door. Light from the hallway invaded the darkness of the room, making her squint. She could barely make out a tall figure quietly enter and shut the door. She readjusted her vision and could see what looked like a shadow passing the bed and going into the closet.
For several minutes, she could hear nothing, and shut her tired eyes knowing that only one person could navigate through the scattered items throughout the room as well as she without light. Finally, there was noise in the bathroom of someone using the toilet, flushing, and washing his hands. Trained soft footsteps were on the carpet and then she felt a shift in the bed.
Sam could feel the warmth of his body in the bed, and a shiver ran through her when his feet brushed against her cold ones. Other than that brief touch, there was no contact. Albeit, the King sized bed was big, but she missed his usual cuddle.
She rolled to face him, forging slumber still. She smoothly slung an arm over his bare chest, but confusion filled her when he shifted from his back to face opposite her, recoiling from the touch. Sam kept her breathing controlled. What is he doing?
She lifted her lids the slightest bit and took in his rigid form. He was almost on the edge. Usually when I take up the whole bed he just pushes me back to my side and holds me for a little while. What's up?
She could almost hear the wheels turning in his brain when his breath became slightly shallower, a sure sign something was grating on him. For as many years as they'd known each other, he could always tell when she was faking something, whether it was a smile or masking pain. He always knew. So why now was he not making some remark about her staying up for him?
He must know I'm awake. Maybe he's just wrapped up in his own thoughts. But, still, it's not like Jack to roll away from me. We're not fighting so that isn't it; even if it was frustrating that he had to go back to work after the party. Jack's ultra sharp senses are a part of him. He can always tell the littlest difference in my breathing. Probably just a hard night… What time is it anyway?
She glanced at the digital clock resting on their night stand. It read 3: 07 a.m. Stifling a yawn, she gave in to her weary body and settled in to go back to sleep, resigning herself to talking with him in the morning.
Jack sighed in relief when his ears picked up Sam's gentle breathing return to slumber. Well, there's one long conversation avoided. You can never find out, Sam. I'm so sorry. So sorry. You wouldn't want anything to do with this broken old soldier if you knew what I'd just agreed to…