Page 23 of Marked

“It’s all right. You were having a nightmare. Ithappens.” He tucks the last bit of hair behind my ear and cups my cheek, drawing my face toward his. “It’s all right. You’re okay.”

I take a shaky breath and nod.

“I’m okay.” I agree. I’m here. I survived.

The guilt crushes me.

“Harley. Look at me.” His voice hardens. His grip on my cheek tightens. “Look at me.”

I blink. Aren’t I? No. I’m staring at the headboard over his head. Still lost in the fog of my miserable past. I’ll never outrun it. It drowns me even when I sleep.

I move my eyes to his and blink.

“I’m sorry,” I say again.

He frames my face with both hands, holding me firmly.

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” His chin lowers. “It’s no wonder, after everything you told me tonight. Of course you’d have a nightmare.” He pulls me closer, tucking my head beneath his chin.

I melt right into him.

The nightmare clears away, and the reality of the evening focuses better now.

After we’d finished talking, it was nearly three in the morning. I’d asked if he wanted to just sleep here instead of going back to his motel.

“I’m glad you stayed,” I say, after silent moments pass. “Sometimes the nightmares turn into panic attacks once I’m awake.”

He lightly pets my cheek.

“Are you having one now?”

I shake my head, bumping into his chin.

“No.” I sigh and wrap my arms around him. “I’m all right. It’s gone now.”

“What’s gone?”

“The memory.” I take a deep breath. “Or the nightmare. I’m not sure anymore. It gets all muddled.”

He runs a hand up and down my arm.

“Probably why they never got close to finding the guy. I can’t be relied on. When my memories don’t line up with Mom’s, it makes it harder.”

His eyebrows knit together.

“Your memory isn’t your fault. The police have plenty of resources at their disposal. They shouldn’t have had to rely on your recollection.” He tilts his head.

“Maybe, but Special Agent Laurens never had much hope about finding him. They never closed the case, but the last time I spoke with her, she gave me her card and said to call her if I had anything for her. I got the impression they weren’t working it anymore.”

“Special Agent? She’s FBI?”

“Yeah. It’s a kidnapping case, so the FBI took it.”

“When’s the last time you talked to her?”

I think for a beat. “Two years ago? Maybe longer. But I think Mom calls her every year, around now, to see if they’ve made any progress.”

“You and your mom don’t talk much about your sister, do you?”

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