Free Texas Takedown by Barb Han

pillow soon.
    He rinsed out his bowl and placed it in the dishwasher before returning to her side. She could feel him, even if she closed her eyes, standing next to her because Dylan was just this massive presence, a noticeable energy.
    â€œWhat’s the plan?” She couldn’t suppress a yawn.
    â€œBed.” He peered down at her bowl, removed the fork from her hand and swooped up the dish.
    â€œThere must be something else I can do to help.”
    He’d already turned his back to her. He didn’t turn around. “Sleep.”
    â€œWhat will you do?”
    â€œThe same. I’ll be no good to my daughter without grabbing a few hours of shut-eye. You need more than that.” He started moving toward the sink again.
    She wanted to protest, to argue that she was just as strong as he was, but it would have been pointless. And although she had every intention of pulling her own weight, she couldn’t debate her need for sleep.
    How on earth she’d get it, she had no idea. Being alone with Dylan was already doing all kinds of crazy things to her pulse. Adrenaline from the day had long dissipated and she was left with a beating heart in an exhausted body.
    â€œGo brush your teeth. There’s an extra toothbrush in the cabinet.”
    Under normal circumstances, she’d have been offended by the fact he’d resorted to using as few words as possible with her again. Except he was too much like her older brother Brent in that way. Brent would become laser focused and the little pleasantries went out the window. He’d said he didn’t have time to fill his brain with nonsense when there was a serious task at hand. How many times had Brent come to the rescue in those early years after losing their mother? Too many.
    She understood that, on some level, this was Dylan’s way of coping.
    And she couldn’t find fault in that.
    Before she could develop an argument for staying up, Dylan was at her side, urging her to stand.
    â€œLean on me,” he said gruffly.
    She didn’t realize she needed him until she tried to stand on her own. Her knees buckled and his strong arm around her waist kept her from falling flat on her back.
    Tired
didn’t begin to describe how she felt.
    Brushing her teeth was the last thing she remembered doing.
    * * *
    T HE   HOUSE   WAS   still as Samantha’s eyes flew open. She blinked a few times to gain her bearings. She was on the pullout sofa in a spare bedroom. He’d insisted she take his bed, but it hadn’t seemed right to take that away from him. He needed sleep as much as she did, and he had a much better chance of getting it under the sheets he was used to. Besides, she barely even remembered closing her eyes before she was out.
    What time was it?
    She glanced around for a clock, got up and found one on a side table. Two o’clock in the morning. She’d gotten at least four hours of rest. That was more sleep than she’d had in the past week in its entirety. She’d take whatever she could get at this point. It was the little wins that mattered most right now. Celebrate all the little wins, her big brother would’ve told her, and that will keep you going even through the toughest of times.
    It also sounded like something Dylan would say. And that was pretty much where his similarities with her older brother ended. The two were nothing alike physically. Brent was barely five feet ten inches. He had their father’s small frame and their mother’s brains. Thinking back, she remembered that her mother had been very bright. She’d also been artistic and had always checked the light in a room to decide where she would paint. She’d never asked for much. She’d carve out a niche in the brightest room she could find and keep a small cabinet with her art supplies there. While her mother might not have taken up much room in life, she’d occupied so much of Samantha’s heart. Losing