Page 17 of Haunted

After I drape the towel over her head, I rub vigorously. Aria giggles and hums, making the sound come out distorted. I laugh at her childlike behavior. Once her hair’s as dry as I can get it, I run the brush through the tangles, starting at the ends and working my way up. The braid comes next, and I tie it off with the band wrapped around the brush.

“Thanks, Uncle Luca.”

She hops down from my lap, grabs her ice cream, and climbs back up beside me. I prop my feet up on the coffee table and get comfortable.

“Don’t forget the blanket. You know the ice cream will make you cold.”

She pulls the blanket off the end of the couch and starts arranging it around herself. My heart warms when she puts a section over my lap down to my knees.

“You gotta have some too.”

Even though I don’t need it, I let her do her thing. Aria is a very caring little girl, and there’s no way I would disturb that trait by telling her I’m fine without it.

I wait patiently until she’s finished and settled against my side before dropping my arm to her shoulders and tugging her closer to me. She opens her carton of ice cream and puts the lid on the blanket beside her.

“Okay, I’m ready.”

Grabbing the remote off the arm of the couch, I press Play and settle in for a night of short orange people, bratty children, and rivers of chocolate.

6

LUCA

ISTEP OUT OF THE elevator and take the short walk to Jules’s room. It’s earlier than when I’ve been visiting, but I’m due on shift in a couple of hours, and I felt a sudden urge to see her after the dream I had last night. It ended with her screaming again, and it tore my insides to hear it.

I walk into the quiet room to find Jules partially on her right side, facing the door. Instead of her hair being in the normal braid, the thick mass is loose and resting on the pillow. Someone took the time to brush it.

My eyes scan the room as I walk over to the bed and take a seat on the chair sitting close by. Her nightgown is different than the last time I was here. She’s now in a soft peach-colored one with ruffles on the sleeves and lace across the collar.

Seeing the hand that doesn’t have the catheter lying close to her side, palm facing up, I lean forward and trace the inside of her fingers. Again, I’m met with a zing of awareness.

Lifting my eyes, I look at her closed ones.

“Hi, Jules,” I state softly, and watch for any signs she’s heardme. When there’s not even a twitch of her eyelashes, I continue. “I’m Luca. You don’t know me, but you’ve been coming to me in my dreams for years now, and I don’t know why.”

I pull in a deep breath and roughly blow it out. This is the first time I’ve spoken to her. Or rather, the first time I’ve spoken to her while awake. I always know in my dreams they aren’t real, but this right here is. She’s so real I can actually touch and smell her.

“You always ask me where I am and to help you, but I don’t know what you want me to do. How am I supposed to help you? And why is itmydreams that you visit?”

I look down at the hand I’m still tracing and see the contrast between hers and mine. Whereas she’s pale and soft, I’m tanned and rough. My hand would engulf hers if we were to ever hold hands. I have no doubt an easy squeeze from me would crush her fingers.

“When you scream, as if in pain, I feel it. Ifeelit all over, Jules, like your pain is somehow mine. Why is that? I’ve never seen you before.” I lift my eyes back to her. “I used to be so angry about the dreams, because they kept me up at night, all because of someone I didn’t know existed. Now, though, I welcome them, because I get to see you. Now that I know youarereal, I feel drawn to you. I want to see you, and touch you, and breath in your wildflower scent. I want you to open your eyes, so I can see if they are the same bright amber as in my dreams.”

Flipping over her hand, I trace the light blue lines of her veins barely seen under her skin. My mind wanders to places it has no right wandering to. Places that make me feel like a fucking pervert, because the woman is in a damn coma. Like what it would feel like to have her hands touch me. Or how her breath would feel against my neck. And if her body would mold to mine if I were to wrap her in my arms.

Disgusted with my train of thought, I put down her hand and lean back in the chair. The drawer in the small nightstand catches my eye. I pull it open and find a small bag inside. I’ve got no business snooping, but I do so anyway. Pulling the bag out, I look at the contents through the plastic. It looks like a necklace.

Pulling the bag open, I dump the contents in my hand. A delicate gold chain and locket falls into my palm, along with a ring. When I open the locket, there’s a picture of Jules and a young child on one side. Jules is younger than she is now, mid-teens maybe, and for the first time since she started appearing in my dreams, she has a smile on her face, deep dimples in each cheek. The picture is small, but her smile is big and natural. Warm-looking, like she was happy at the time the picture was taken. The kid, a girl, looks to be three or four and shares Jules’s smile. They look a lot alike. A sister, maybe? The other side is empty.

Gathering the chain in my fist, I look at the ring next. It’s silver and looks simple and inexpensive, but still beautiful. The front half of the ring appears to be twine woven together with a small diamond peeking out of the knot. The back half is just a band.

Flipping it around, I look at the inside and see an inscription.

Infinite.

It looks like a wedding ring.

I slip it on my pinky, feeling the cold metal against my skin. It only goes to my first knuckle, proving just how small her fingers are compared to mine. I look up at Jules and wonder for the hundredth time who she is. If this ring and necklace were in her personal items bag, then that means she must have been wearing them when she was brought into the hospital. Which indicates she’s married. Where is herhusband? Has he given up on Jules in her comatose state? Has he already moved on?

---