Page 84 of Billionaire Lumberjack's Bargain

The bedroom door flies open, and Dalton stands in the frame, illuminated by the faint moonlight filtering in from the single window on the exterior wall.

His eyes widen, scanning over me carefully. “What’s wrong?”

I shudder and drop my face into my hands, trying to catch my breath and wishing I could melt away and disappear rather than have to admit the embarrassment of waking him like this. “Just a dream…”

He releases an audible relieved sigh; then the bed dips beside me. His arm wraps around my shoulder and tugs me against him, and I let my head fall to his shoulder, absorbing all the warmth and strength he’s brought instantly when I needed it.

Another shudder rolls through me, and he tightens his hold, reminding me of what I saw and heard earlier. “Did I wake Davey?”

“No.” He feathers his lips against my temple. “I just checked on him before I opened your door, and he’s still asleep.”

Thank God.

I don’t need him being any more panicked than I already made him today. Pretending it was all a game worked to a degree, but he’s a smart kid and can sense when things are off. He must have asked where Dalton went and when he would be back a dozen times before I finally got him to settle enough to fall asleep.

He loves the man holding me as much as Dalton does him.

And that only complicates this so much more.

Dalton rubs his hand gently up and down my back, and each time he reaches my bare shoulder blades, a little shiver runs through me. Every simple touch only makes me want to find a way to crawl closer, to allow him to take on the weight of all the ways I failed that I can’t escape—even when I sleep.

His warm breath flutters my loose hair, and he pulls a strand from where it’s matted against my cheek and tucks it behind my ear. “What was your dream about?”

Bits and pieces of it flash through my head.

Vivid.

Bright.

Crystal clear.

As if it really happened and wasn’t just some creation of my psyche.

I shudder and snuggle closer to him, welcoming the comfort of his solid arms and body supporting me. His hand settles over mine on top of my stomach and moves with me as I rub at the spot the baby loves to use to get my attention.

The longer he’s here, the more he talks, the more likely she is to respond.

It’s been like that since very early in this pregnancy.

This little girl loves the sound of Dalton’s voice as much as I do, and if he weren’t here right now, I might still be down the black hole that nightmare had me trapped in.

I hadn’t even realized how long it’s been since I’ve had the dreams about that day until this very moment.

They’ve slowly vanished over the last couple of months, as things started to fall into place, as I finally started to have hope that everything might actually work out for Davey and me and this baby. When I started to see beyond my own pain to the possibility of a life after it.

But the dream came back with a vengeance tonight.

And it wasdifferentthis time.

In the throes of the nightmare itself, I didn’t realize it, but now that my brain is coming out of that fog, those details start to emerge more clearly.

I inhale deeply, taking Dalton’s woodsy, masculine scent into my lungs as I cling to him. “It was the day Dave died…”

The day everything changed.

Dalton’s body stiffens, his hand stilling for a second against my skin before he resumes the soothing movement. “Do you dream about it a lot?”

I haven’t talked about what happened with him at all.

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