Page 84 of Under the Ink

He stayed still while she got out of bed and simply stood there, lungs heaving, eyes darting back and forth as she assessed the situation. When she let out a long breath of air, she said, “I think I had a nightmare. Was I talking in my sleep? Is that why you’re here?”

Taking one small step closer, he said, “If you could call it that. You were yelling.”

“I was?”

“Yeah. You were pretty loud.”

“Oh.” Nodding, she straightened her back. Jesus fucking Chris…in that little black tank top and gray sweats, even sleepy, she was beautiful—and Sage wanted nothing more than to pull her into his arms.

But he suspected she wasn’t ready for that.

“I woke you up?” she asked.

“Yeah—but it’s okay.”

“I’m sorry. I, uh…I haven’t done that in a long time. I’m not sure why I did now.”

“You’re okay, though?”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

Sage couldn’t quite read her—an illiteracy he’d suffered with this woman for most of the time he’d known her…but he was trying, and he’d eventually figure out her language. Till then, he had to guess half the time.

Naomi was worth all the effort.

“Would you feel better if I spent the night in here?”

At that, Naomi smiled. “Wouldn’t we get in trouble with your mom and dad?”

Sage couldn’t help but chuckle. “Not if I keep my hands to myself.”

“I wouldn’t mind if you hung out for a while—just till I get my heartrate back where it should be.”

“That dream really messed with your head, didn’t it?”

“Yeah,” she said, sitting on the edge of the bed, flipping on the lamp on the nightstand. “Would you turn off the overhead light?”

“Sure.” Afterward, Sage approached the bed and sat next to Naomi, but then she scooted over so she could lean against the headboard.

Without even asking, Sage did the same, sitting beside her before sliding an arm behind her head. The door was open, so even if his parents got up, they’d see the two of them weren’t doing anything they shouldn’t be. Right now, it was one friend comforting another. But he doubted they’d get up. The master bedroom was at the end of the hall, closer to Sage’s room than the guest bedroom Naomi was sleeping in—and he knew they used a sound machine that mimicked various nature scenes, like a thunderstorm or a babbling brook.

Because they weren’t out here now told him they either hadn’t heard it or knew everything was okay.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Nope.”

Sage nodded, squeezing her shoulders in support. If she changed her mind, he was here. But he felt compelled to ask a question that he knew could potentially rile her.

Still…knowing now what he did, he had to broach the subject. “Have you ever thought about therapy?”

“Therapy?What are you saying exactly?”

“Like…someone to talk to.Psychotherapy.Someone trained in mental healing.”

“No way in hell. I don’t want to talk about any of it.”

Making sure his voice was as calm as could be, he said, “I get it. You might feel like it would be reliving it in a way—but I’m here to tell you it can help. Sometimes I think sharing it with someone else can make you feel better.”

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