Chapter 14: Bedtime Rituals
Cammy’s phone buzzed, the screen illuminating her face in the lavender gloom of the dorm. A soft chime played – Owen’s specific ringtone, a gentle piano riff. She scrambled upright, the sketchbook sliding off her lap, forgotten. Her fingers fumbled slightly as she swiped to answer, bringing the device close. "Hey, you," she breathed, her voice instantly shedding its playful edge, softening into something warm and intimate.
Addie, already nestled under her sky-blue comforter, Prickles tucked under her chin, watched. The change in Cammy was fascinating. The outspoken, glitter-loving whirlwind seemed to melt away, replaced by a quieter, almost shy affection. Addie could only hear Cammy’s side of the conversation, low murmurs punctuated by soft giggles and the occasional "Mhm," or "Really?" Her green eyes, visible in the phone's glow, held a vulnerability Addie rarely saw in daylight hours.
"Miss you too," Cammy whispered, twisting a lock of her damp red hair. "Yeah, all brushed. No glitter in the drain this time, promise." A pause, then a quiet laugh. "Okay, maybe a little." She listened, a soft smile playing on her lips. "Yeah, Addie’s good. We sang in the shower. Atlas sounded like a dying goose." She shot a quick, conspiratorial grin towards Addie’s bed.
Addie pulled the comforter higher, hiding her own smile. The oversized sleeves of Atlas's hoodie bunched around her wrists.
"Okay, okay," Cammy murmured, her voice dropping even lower. "Love you, Daddy. Sleep tight." She ended the call, the screen going dark, plunging her side of the room back into deeper shadow. She sighed, a contented sound, and snuggled back down, pulling her own brightly patterned comforter up to her chin.
The dorm door opened silently. Atlas filled the doorway, backlit by the softer hallway light. He’d changed into worn sweatpants and a soft grey t-shirt that stretched across his shoulders. His gaze swept the room, settling first on Cammy.
"All good, Trouble?" he asked softly, stepping inside and closing the door with a near-silent click.
Cammy yawned, stretching like a cat. "Yep. Owen says hi. Told him you suck at singing."
Atlas chuckled, a low rumble. "Appreciate the character reference." He moved to her bedside. The scent of his soap – woodsy and clean – drifted faintly through the air. He leaned over, his large hands surprisingly gentle as he adjusted her comforter, tucking it firmly around her sides and smoothing it down near her shoulders. His touch was efficient, almost clinical, yet imbued with a quiet care. "No midnight glitter raids, Cammy. Understood?"
She mock-saluted, her eyes already heavy. "Scouts honor. Which I was never in, but still."
"Goodnight, Trouble," he murmured, his voice a warm caress in the dimness. He gave her shoulder a single, reassuring pat through the blanket.
He turned. His focus shifted completely, a palpable shift in the room's energy. Addie felt it like a physical pull, her grip tightening on Prickles. He crossed the few steps to her bed. The plush rug absorbed his footfalls. He didn't ask if she was ready; he simply knelt beside her bed, bringing his face level with hers. The soft light caught the warm amber flecks in his hazel eyes.
His gaze traveled over her – the hoodie swallowing her frame, the top of Prickles’s head peeking out near her chin, the damp strands of blonde hair fanned out on her pillow. He reached out, not to tuck, but to gently brush a stray lock of hair away from her forehead. His thumb lingered for a fraction of a second, a whisper of touch against her temple. The calloused pad was warm.
"Comfortable, little dove?" His voice was a low murmur, meant only for her ears in the quiet room.
Addie nodded, unable to speak past the sudden tightness in her throat. The hoodie smelled like him. Safety. His nearness, the focused intensity of his attention, was both overwhelming and deeply settling.
He smiled, that soft, boyish curve that transformed his strong features. His hand moved to smooth her hair back properly, his fingers combing through the strands near her crown with infinite patience. The touch sent shivers down her spine, pleasant and warm. He leaned in closer. Addie’s breath hitched. His lips brushed her forehead – a feather-light, dry press that lingered just long enough to imprint warmth onto her skin. The scent of him intensified.
"Sweet dreams," he breathed against her skin. The words vibrated softly, settling deep within her chest.
He straightened. His hand lingered on her head for another moment, a grounding pressure, before he pulled back. He reached over to the small nightstand where the white noise machine sat. A single button press, and a low, steady hum filled the room, like distant ocean waves or a gentle wind through trees. It instantly softened the edges of the silence, creating a cocoon of sound.
He gave her one last look, a silent check-in. Addie managed a small, tremulous smile, burrowing deeper into the hoodie. Satisfied, Atlas turned and moved silently towards the door. He paused, his hand on the knob, his broad back momentarily blocking the faint light from the hall. He didn't look back, but his presence seemed to hold the room steady for a heartbeat longer. Then he was gone, the door clicking shut with finality, sealing them in their pastel sanctuary with only the rhythmic hum for company.
The room felt different. Larger, yet somehow safer. The white noise filled the spaces, a constant, soothing thrum. Addie let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. Prickles felt solid against her cheek. Atlas’s hoodie was a warm embrace. The ghost of his kiss still tingled on her forehead.
Across the narrow gap between the beds, Cammy shifted. Her voice came, sleepy but clear, cutting through the artificial ocean sound. "See? Totally whipped."
Addie didn't blush this time. The darkness and the humming veil felt protective. She turned her head slightly on the pillow, facing Cammy’s shadowy form. "He kissed your forehead too," she whispered back, a hint of challenge in her tone.
Cammy snorted softly. "Yeah. Like checking a patient's temperature. Clinical." Her voice softened, losing its edge. "Yours? That was... different. Softer. Warmer." She paused. The hum filled the silence. "You liked it."
It wasn't a question. Addie squeezed her eyes shut for a second, the warmth from his lips and the lingering scent in the hoodie merging into a single, undeniable sensation. Security. Belonging. A feeling she’d craved, fought against, and was now drowning in. She opened her eyes, staring at the faint pattern of moonlight filtering through the blinds onto the lavender wall.
"Yeah," she whispered, the word barely audible over the white noise. "I did."
Cammy sighed, a sound of sleepy resignation. "Told you. So screwed, Bryce." A rustle of sheets as she turned over. "Now shut up. Daddy Owen says sleep is important." Her breathing deepened almost immediately, evening out into the rhythm of sleep, merging with the machine’s steady drone.
Addie lay still. The hum vibrated softly in her bones. The hoodie’s fabric was rough against her cheek. The phantom pressure of Atlas’s hand in her hair, the lingering warmth on her forehead, replayed in her mind. Whipped. The word didn’t sting anymore. It felt… true. A surrender not to dominance, but to a profound, terrifying sense of being held. Seen. Wanted. She pressed her face deeper into Prickles, inhaling the lingering scent of Atlas on the borrowed hoodie, and let the white noise carry her towards sleep, the confession hanging safely in the dark, humming air.
The white noise machine’s hum seeped under the dorm door, a familiar ocean sigh trailing Atlas down the dim hallway. His own room felt cavernous after the girls’ cozy lavender nest. Silence here was absolute, pressing in without the soft rustle of sheets or Cammy’s sleep-mumbled protests. He leaned his forehead against the cool wood of his doorframe for a moment, eyes closed, replaying the day: the anxious flutter of Addie’s hands during the morning routine, Cammy’s paint-splattered triumph, the startling warmth of Addie’s shy confession echoing Cammy’s teasing – whipped. A faint, weary smile touched his lips. Whipped? Maybe. Utterly spent? Absolutely.
He pushed off the frame, moving on autopilot. The en-suite bathroom light stung his gritty eyes. Brushing his teeth felt like moving mountains. He spat, rinsed, splashed cold water on his face. The reflection in the mirror showed the day’s toll: dark smudges beneath his hazel eyes, a tension in his jaw even now. The careful calibration of patience, the constant low-level vigilance required with Addie, the managing of Cammy’s exuberant chaos – it was a different kind of exhaustion than physical labor. It seeped into his bones. He flicked off the light, plunging the room into near darkness save for the faint city glow through the blinds.
Falling into bed wasn't graceful. He toed off his sweatpants, letting them pool on the floor. The cool sheets were a benediction against his skin. He didn’t bother with pajama tops, just sank back onto the pillow in his grey boxers. The pillowcase smelled faintly of detergent and his own tiredness. Every muscle seemed to sigh in unison, heavy and liquid. The image of Addie, swallowed in his hoodie, her eyes trusting in the dim light as he’d kissed her forehead, flickered behind his eyelids. Sweet dreams, little dove. The deep, rhythmic thrum of the white noise machine from down the hall was the last coherent sound he registered. Consciousness didn't fade; it simply vanished. One breath, deep and slow. The next, nothing. His head settled into the pillow’s embrace, limbs splayed, the stern lines of his face finally relaxing into utter stillness. Oblivion claimed him instantly, profound and complete.