Chapter 18

What on earth was I thinking? What was I, a seven-year-old, knocking on Bratt’s door because I was having nightmares? God, I was ridiculous.

But he didn’t even bat an eye. He didn’t even make me talk my foot into my stomach, just held out his strong hand and let me into his room.

Now I was in his bed.

His huge, insanely comfortable bed.

Holy crap, was this what it was like to sleep on a cloud? I’d never been on such a comfortable bed before in my life. I lay down and immediately felt cradled by the soft memory foam and pillowy cushioning beneath me.

“You a back sleeper? Side sleeper?” Bratt asked.

“Side. Is that okay?”

He huffed a laugh and shook his head. “Marley, you know that not every question posed to you is done so to evaluate you, right?” he asked before handing me a pillow. “I just wanted to make sure your pillow was supportive enough.”

“Oh, thank you,” I said, accepting the pillow and placing it under my head.

He took the other pillow and chucked it off the side of t