Page 138 of Shattered Veil

“Sorry.” Her nails traced up to my scalp, gently scratching tiny circles and figures of eight. “This alright?”

The comforting gesture made my heart jump. I hummed quietly and contentedly, and as I moved to lovingly touch her cheek with the tips of my fingers, my actions felt predetermined, for I had seen this before. I had seen this look on her face while my palm cradled her with an emotional purpose that didn’t need to be spoken.

It was another one from my dreams.

But instead of the usual feelings of horror and dread that came with my other visions coming true, I felt…complete. All of the sights—those from the past that occurred in a non-historical order, those with Cassie, those of Skylar, and the sensation of drowning—they had all come to fruition. The past had met the future, and all that haunted me had come to life as if it were inevitable. Now that I was here, holding her face in my hand, I felt that it was all over.

Dropping my hand back down to my lap, my eyelids fluttered closed as I relished in the sensation of her soft stroking through my hair, and I was at peace.

Cassie

The wood grain of his headboard tickled my upper back as I sat in his bed. His comforter was a soft sage green, and the sheets a few shades darker. Both of them were bunched at my hips, and I inspected the material. I idly rolled the fabric this way and that with my fingertips, finding the sheets to be more silken and the duvet similar to linen. I knew that if I were to sink into the bed, it would be remarkably comfortable. After all that we had just gone through, I supposed that anything would be, but this would be more so because James was by my side.

It was two o’clock in the morning, everyone in the group had long gone, and he was sleeping. He had been sleeping since he drifted off on the couch beside me a few hours earlier, and when I had ushered him awake to send him to bed after everyone’s departure, he had hit the mattress with a heavy thump and instantly dozed once more. His breaths were heavily weighted now. Laying on his front with his inked arms stretched overhead and hugging his pillow, air was pulling into his lungs smoothly and letting out with loud huffs in a slow, metronomic fashion. His hair was hanging onto his face over his cuts and bruises, and while I had a strong urge to push it away and tuck the strands behind his ears, I knew that doing so would wake him…therefore, I resisted.

I didn’t relax back into bed yet, though. I had been sitting, distracting my mind with everything and nothing—occasional phone scrolling and thoroughly examining the bedding around us being two of those things—but nothing would do. It wasn’t that I couldn’t sleep. I knew that I could. In fact, I was exhausted, and I was continually fighting the nod of my head. If I were to have slinked down into bed and wrapped my arms around him, I would have bet money that I would be gone within thirty seconds. So…no, my issue wasn’t insomnia. Nor was it the terrors of what we had all seen.

Rather, it was the sensation of horror-ridden longing that I had experienced that continued to plague me.

He was here. For that, I was thankful, and if I allowed myself to settle, I knew that I would experience a rest like none other. However, when recalling the feeling of him being, for lack of a better word, gone…I couldn’t do it. Every moment that my eyes would close, my head would sag down to my chest, my body would violently flinch, and I would look to him. Panicked and sure that my momentary lapse would cause him to evaporate like smoke, I would absorb his presence, breathe deep, and the routine would begin again.

It happened a countless number of times…and I was sure that I would be fine by morning. Though entirely sleep deprived, I would offer him a smile as he woke. Call Skylar to get a much-needed update on both herself and Colton. Demand that James take the day off work. Tend to the wounds on his face. Allow us to just…coexist.

I was thoroughly looking forward to that idea. However, because it was the dead of night, and I was convincing myself that all things do, indeed, go bump in the night…I was increasingly anxious with every iteration of my initial drift off to sleep.

My eyes closed. My head sagged down. I felt my breath pull, warm and heavy into my lungs. And the moment that my chin touched my sternum, I jerked awake.

“Ah!”

The uncomfortable whine that came from me was unable to be stopped. Eyelids snapped open and a hand covering my mouth, I glanced to James…and he looked back at me.

“What’re y’doing?” he spoke in a sleep-filled voice.

I shook my head. “Go back to sleep.”

He let out a dissatisfied grumble. “You’re not in bed.”

“Incorrect,” I replied, despite the fact that I knew he was referring to me lying in bed and not my mere presence. “I’m sitting right next to you. Go back to sleep.”

James pulled his left arm—the one closest to me—out from beneath his pillow and reached for me. His hand wriggled its way under my shirt, found my waist, and squeezed as he groaned a wordless plea for me to come closer. His touch was alarmingly warm. So much so that it immediately made my eyelids droop and my body soften in his direction.

I sucked in a sharp breath through my nostrils.

“Sleep, Jay.”

In a tone that could rival a teenage boy’s, he mocked, “No, you.”

“James.”

“Come on,” he begged with another squeeze of his grip. “Come here. I want you down here.”

That, I unfortunately couldn’t ignore—especially not when his vocal cords were adorably raspy. I exhaled heavily, shifted my way down to him, and we adjusted ourselves to be face-to-face. He laid one heavy arm over my waist, brushed his nose against mine once from tip to top, and sighed contentedly.

“Better?” I asked.

“Mhm.” He murmured, “Why aren’t you sleeping?”

I lied, “Just can’t.”

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