Page 186 of Override

I step back into the bedroom and leave the door open behind me. For the first time tonight, I don't feel afraid of the silence. Because a few seconds later, I hear Keaton pick up his pillow. And then I hear him follow me inside.

Chapter 38

Keaton (Skee)

I don't sleep. I try.

For the first hour, I lie flat on my back and stare at the ceiling while my brain cycles through everything that could go wrong once the sun comes up. Eventually, I roll onto my side, adjust the pillow, close my eyes, and attempt the breathing exercise Rachel taught me years ago.

It doesn't work. Mostly because Maeve is six feet away from me. Maybe seven. I could calculate the exact distance if I opened my eyes, but that seems like information I shouldn't have.

So I lie there and listen to her breathe. At first, it's uneven. She shifts beneath the blankets every few minutes, the mattress creaking softly as she rolls from one side to the other. Once, she sits up completely, and every muscle in my body tenses until I hear her take a drink of water and settle back down.

Eventually, her breathing changes. Deepens. Slows. I know the exact moment she falls asleep. I don't know how I know. I just do. Then, approximately twenty-three minutes later, she starts snoring.

I smile into the darkness. Not loudly. It's barely more than a soft little sound every few breaths, but it's there.

Maeve Gallagher snores. This feels like privileged information. I should probably never mention it. I will absolutely mention it.

Not today. Probably not tomorrow. But someday, when I'm reasonably confident she won't make me sleep outside the bedroom door again, I'm going to tell her. The thought makes me pause.

Someday.

I stare into the darkness. That's new. I don't examine it too closely.

Instead, I listen to her breathe until the black beyond the curtains slowly gives way to the faint gray light of morning.

Today is going to be a shit show. There's no analytical way to soften that conclusion. Last night had been the easy part.

Which is concerning, considering the easy part involved illegally entering the Gallagher estate, removing Maeve without anyone's permission, commandeering Bullet's safe house, being yelled at by Matt, and discovering that Maeve's hands on my face apparently have the ability to shut down every useful function in my brain.

Today, we have to go back to the real world. I have to call Callum. That's going to be enjoyable.

I need to explain why the man he hired to investigate Ronan Gallagher decided to remove Ronan's wife from her home without consulting him first.

I already know how that conversation is going to go. Callum will yell. I'll explain. He'll yell louder. I'll point out that raising his voice doesn't alter the facts. He'll threaten to kill me.

Then he'll call Matt. Matt will tell him he's already yelled at me. Callum will decide that wasn't sufficient and start again.

I sigh quietly.

Maeve makes a soft sound from the bed. I immediately go still. Silence. Then another tiny snore.

My mouth twitches. Right.

The more difficult problem. Her. Not Maeve herself.

Maeve is currently the only thing in my life that doesn't feel like a problem, which is probably a problem in itself.

The issue is what happens when she wakes up.

Last night, Rachel had made me promise. I hadn't wanted to. I still don't.

The conversation happened while Bullet and Wheels were arguing over sandwich meat and Maeve was changing clothes.

Rachel had pulled me into the hallway. "You have to give her a choice."

"She has choices."