(Tilly)
"I didn't mean it, Chase. I was angry and scared and I didn't—I would never—"
"It's okay, sweetheart. It's okay." He grabbed the blanket from the bed and pulled it over both of us. He fell back, me on top of him. "Shit. I have to get you warm."
He started rubbing my back. The friction, the heat of his body—slowly, the shivering eased.
"You're alright, sweetheart. You're alright."
I pulled back slightly and kissed his cheek.
He froze beneath me.
"You are something special," I whispered. "You know that, right?"
He stared at me. His eyes glistened. Or maybe it was my imagination. Maybe it was my own tears.
"Actually," he said, "I'm not. My brother's the special one. I'm just... trouble"
He chuckled gruffly. "More trouble than I'm worth, I'm afraid"
"Well." I paused. Cradling his face like he was the most precious thing to me in the whole wide world, probably because he was "You are. Sweetheart." I borrowed his word of endearment.
