Page 77 of Searching for Valor

Rylan bolted upright, the sweat-drenched sheets tangling around his legs as he struggled to free himself from the nightmare

“Rylan.” Izzy sat up beside him and pressed a hand against his back. Her touch was cool and soothing against his overheated skin. “Shh. You’re okay. It was just a dream.”

The nightmare’s grip loosened but didn’t release him entirely. His breaths still came in too-fast, shaky gasps as he tried to ground himself back in reality.

“Just a dream,” she repeated, moving closer to brush her lips over the ink on his shoulder. “You’re at home. You’re safe. Just breathe. Deep breath in, slow breath out.”

He focused on her voice, on the steady rhythm of her words, on the gentle caress of her fingers along his spine. Gradually, his breathing slowed and the tremors subsided.

“No, it wasn’t a dream. I mean, it was, but...” He leaned into her touch. “At first, it was the same nightmare I always have. The ambush, the explosion. Alejandro, Shane, Fuse, Mack. My arm…” He looked down, half-expecting to see blood and bone, but he’d fallen asleep with his prosthesis on. He stared at the metal hand as the fingers curled into a fist. “But then… it changed. And it didn’t feel like just a dream anymore.”

Izzy’s dark amber eyes searched his face in the dim light. “Changed how?”

He shook his head, still not understanding what his subconscious was trying to tell him. “I was with them. Grace and Noah. They were in some kind of dungeon-like room and they said I’d promised to save them.”

Izzy didn’t hesitate at the vulnerability in his voice, didn’t dismiss the absurdity of his words. Instead, she continued to rub circles on his back. “I’ve been dreaming about them, too.”

“Yeah, but it makes sense for you. You’ve known them their whole lives. They’re like family. I’ve never met them, so how do I know Grace has a mole right here?” He pointed to his collarbone.

She blinked in surprise. “You… must have seen it in a picture.” But she didn’t sound convinced.

“Or that Noah has a scar on his left elbow? I’ve never seen a picture of his elbow, Iz. I’ve only seen the photos you showed me on your phone.”

She opened her mouth to respond, but closed it again without making a sound. Her brow furrowed.

He shifted to face her. “Tell me I’m wrong. Tell me he doesn’t have that scar.”

Jesus, he hoped he was wrong. Because if he was right, he was losing his damn mind. Or worse… something sinister was going on that he couldn’t even begin to comprehend.

Izzy swallowed hard, her eyes glistening in the faint light. “He does. From when he fell off his bike last year and needed stitches.” She stared at him like she’d never seen him before. “How do you know that?“

Rylan’s blood ran cold. “I don’t know.” He dropped his head into his hand and closed his eyes while something that felt suspiciously like a memory tried to claw free. “He… he told me. I wasn’t wearing my arm. He saw the scar on my stump and showed me the scar on his elbow.” His eyes snapped open as the memory solidified. “And I saw Grace’s mole because her shirt is ripped at the neck. Holy shit. I was there with them. Wherever they are, I wasthere. I spoke with them.”

Izzy exhaled in a rush like she’d been holding her breath. “How is that possible? You were in the hospital and…”

When she trailed off, he met her gaze. “How many days was I missing? When you all thought I’d gone on a bender?”

“Two, but—” Her eyes widened. “You don’t think you tried to kill yourself,” she said softly, piecing his thoughts together.

“Yeah, that’s the thing. I’m a high-functioning alcoholic. If I’d gone on a two-day bender, I still would’ve shown up to work. I would’ve followed up with Sawyer about that background check. And even when I was at my absolute lowest—a junkie living on the streets of LA— I was never suicidal. I was raised in a religious household, and even though I’m not sure where I stand with God these days, there’s enough of those teachings left in me that…” He shook his head, suddenly confident that this was the truth. “No, I didn’t try to kill myself. I think someone tried to kill me and cover it up as a suicide attempt.”

Izzy scrubbed her hands over her face. “Okay, I need coffee. I’m not awake enough for this conversation.” She slid out of bed, and he gave himself a moment to appreciate all that soft copper skin before she found her clothes on the floor and pulled them on.

She was beautiful.

And now that he had her, he wasn’t going to let her go again.

And he should tell her. He should lay it all out right here, right now, while cocooned in the early morning hours and after sex glow, before reality intruded. He should tell her how much she meant to him, how the thought of losing her again gutted him, how he was still angry about her betrayal but he was working to let it go and forgive her.

But before he could find the words, her phone buzzed on the nightstand. Since he was closer, he rolled over and reached for it. “It’s Ash.”

She took the phone from his hand and frowned down at it. “Why would he be calling me this early?”

Rylan grabbed his own phone and, sure enough, he had several missed calls from the man. He showed her all the red in his call log. “Maybe because he couldn’t get a hold of me.”

“And he thinks I’d be with you at four a.m.?”

“Well, you are.”

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