Page 24 of Pretty Broken Promises

“I do too,” she admits.

We're quiet for a few minutes as she settles against me. I can feel her breathing slow down. My eyes start to get heavy. Holding her like this again, even with all the questions up in the air, relaxes me like nothing has been able to since the last time I've held her like this.

Just before I fall asleep, I hear her whisper, “I've missed you, Ford.”

I kissed the top of her head. “I missed you more, Vixen.”

ChapterTwelve

FORD

I've never beena deep sleeper, I'm even less so after being woken by my father with his fists and feet. Maybe it's all the traveling and the late hour we arrived at her mother's house, or perhaps it's having Tessa in my arms again after so long, but tonight I drift off into the deepest sleep I've had in a very long time. I don't count the other times we were in bed over the last year because there was no acknowledgment of our feelings then, at least not on my end. There was always love, but I fought against it so hard, it felt a lot like hate. Now that I've let that animosity go, the emptiness inside of me, carved out by anger and distrust, fills with peace and so much love for the woman in my arms. If only I’d known how much better it would feel to forgive than to punish, or that the person I was really punishing was myself.

There’s a risk in accepting peace for people like us. It’s because I let my guard down tonight that the apparent danger sneaks up on me. Tessa seems to notice it before I do, her body tensing, and thrashing around in my arms. She whimpers as she starts to fight off some force I don’t sense nearby. Sluggishly, I try and pull myself out of the depths of my slumber, but for some reason, other than her panic, I don’t detect a threat. I’ve gotten very good at being aware of my surroundings, even in my sleep. No one will ever catch me that vulnerable again.

“No, no, no, no, no, no,” she chants over and over again. A scream rips from her throat which has the effect of a bucket of ice water on me and I jolt upright.

My eyes try to adjust to the darkness, but I see nothing. Tessa, however, continues to fight against the confines of the blankets that tangle around her legs and torso. Her head rolls from side to side while she continues to beg and plead to be let go.

I lift my hands to rock her awake, and then lower them. She has been avoiding physical contact, and I don’t want to put her in any more distress than this nightmare already is.

“Tessa,” I call out loudly, but she doesn't wake up. “Tessa,” I say again more forcefully, but still she doesn't respond.

Deciding I must do something, I gently stroke her cheek. The only thing that does is show me she has been crying in her sleep. Carefully, I untangle the covers from around her body, which does help calm her slightly, but she is still firmly in the claws of this nightmare.

I try shaking her, but it has no effect either. Her body is limp as if all of the fight has gone out of her, so I lift her up and cradle her to me. Rocking her back and forth, more for myself than for her, I run my hand through her hair, brush her cheek, and try to gently wake her up.

Her body starts to tremble, and she whimpers letting me know she hasn't been released from the hell playing in her mind, and I can't figure out why she won't wake up. She didn't take anything before we went to bed that I noticed. Then I remember that night when Jen and I were with her and I had to pry a pocket knife from her hand to keep her from cutting herself.

I shake my head. No, she wouldn't drag me to Seattle to make me watch her end it like this. No, she didn't take anything. Maybe I’m being naive, but I don’t think she wants to give up. I won’t deny that she needs help, but I don’t think she is suicidal. I take a deep breath and exhale. It comes out of my chest stilted and does not calm me down.

I hold her tighter to my chest. “I really need you to wake up now, Tessa. You need the nightmare to end, and I need to see those big brown eyes.”

And that's all the time I get before something comes over her and she goes wild, clawing, slapping, shoving, anything she can to get away from me. I'm afraid she'll hurt herself in the process, so I set her in the middle of the bed and scoot away from her.

Her eyes open and dart around the room, searching for the threat. I can see the confusion on her face, just as mine must have looked when I too, looked for the threat and saw nothing. She scoots until her back is against the wall and pulls her knees up to her chest.

She starts rocking, and I fall back on my ass. I’m completely fucking useless because I don’t know how to help her. I hold my hands up so she can see that I am not going to hurt her, which fucking stings that she might even think I'm a danger to her. But one look in her wide-open eyes, and I can tell she's not seeing me. I don't think she's seeing anything in this room at all.

“Tessa, baby, it's Ford. Sweetheart, I need you to come back to me.” She blinks and turns her face slowly to me.

“Ford? What happened?”

“You had a nightmare. Do you want to talk about it?” I ask her.

She shakes her head emphatically, and then stops. “I don'twantto talk about it, but I think I have to.” Her voice is rough as if she’s been screaming for days. I feel shredded inside, and something tells me it’s all going to get so much worse.

“You don'thaveto do anything. I will nevermakeyou do anything,” I swear to her. I mean it. Even though I believe she needs to get this off her chest, I won’t force her to do it. Whatever she tells me has to be offered up willingly, or it will just be another scar inside of her. She’s got enough of those inside and out.

Tessa nods. “I know. But you've been wanting to know why I've been holding you at arm’s length and I think after tonight I'm at one of those ‘rip the Band-Aid off’ moments. I keep saying it's because I want to take our time and get to know each other again, or any of the other bullshit reasons I come up with, but the truth is I'm scared of how you're going to react when I tell you what I have to tell you.”

“It can wait until morning. You need to get some sleep,” I argue.

Despite the purplish circles under her eyes showing me she doesn't sleep very much either, I know she's going to argue with me. “Yeah, there's no way I'm sleeping after that nightmare. I can never go back to sleep after one of those.”

“How long has it been this way?” I ask her.

She looks toward the window and climbs out of the bed. She crosses the room to her closet and digs out a large sweatshirt and a pair of sweatpants. I'm about to insist she wear something of mine, because I'm not about to have a heart-to-heart with her wearing one of Bennett’s sweatshirts, but then I recognize it as one of my high school football sweatshirts. She must have taken it with her when she left.

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