Page 35 of Every Promise Broken

“Did you guys have a nice day?” I ask him softly as we enter the room.

“We did,” he replies, closing the door behind me. “We went up to Lou’s for lunch, she ran a couple errands with me, and then we came back here. She made chicken and dumplings for dinner.” He throws me a look over his shoulder as he unbuttons his shirt. “There’re leftovers in the fridge for you to bring to work for lunch tomorrow.”

I avert my gaze, feeling like it’s wrong of me to watch him undress. “Thank you,” I murmur. “That’ll be good.”

The way he saved me a plate makes my stomach twist. It’s something so simple, but it’s thoughtful. A reminder I don’t need of the Conrad I married.

Going into the bathroom, I change into pajamas before brushing my teeth. When I’m finished, Conrad switches places with me so he can do the same as I climb into bed. It feels like an eternity before he comes back out and flips off the lights. My pulse races as he pulls the covers back, the bed dipping as he slips onto his side. His scent surrounds me, and it’s making it hard to breathe.

Conrad rolls onto his side, facing me while I lie flat on my back, staring up at the ceiling. “Thank you for doing this,” he rasps. “I know this isn’t ideal, and probably the last thing you want to be doing, but I appreciate it more than you know.”

My throat tightens, and my mouth goes dry. “It’s no big deal,” I croak out.

“It is a big deal,” he urges. “So, thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Goodnight, Whit.”

I make the mistake of turning my head to look at Conrad. Even in the dark room, I can make out the way he’s watching me. It sends goosebumps all over my body. It makes my stomach flip. It makes me want to roll over and curl up under his chin and forget all my worries.

But I can’t do that. So, instead, I stare back up at the ceiling, tamping down the emotion clogging my throat.

“Goodnight,” I whisper.

My body startles awake,eyes flying open, my heart galloping so fast in my chest I can feel it all over. For a moment, I don’t know where I’m at, the unknown causing panic to rise in my chest. My mind is foggy, body drenched in a thin layer of sweat, and my breath is coming out harsh and shallow, like I can’t drag in oxygen fast enough.

Something brushes my arm, and I jerk, my head snapping in the direction, and that’s when I notice Conrad.

Then it all comes back to me.

I’m in his bed.

Concern is etched into his face. Pinched brows, mouth turned down into a frown.

I don’t know what comes over me, or where this flood of emotion comes from, but before I know it, my throat tightens and my eyes fill up with moisture. The organ in my chest is still racing, and I can’t seem to calm myself down.

“C’mere,” Conrad husks, pulling me into his chest. I fight it for about a second before I realize how safe I feel with his armswrapped around me. Burying my face in the center of his burly chest, the tears spill out of my eyes, streaking my cheeks.

Brushing his fingers through the hair on my nape, Conrad whispers softly into my ear, “Shh, you’re okay, Whit. I got you, you’re okay now. It was just a nightmare.”

My body trembles, and I can’t seem to make it stop or force my mind to slow down.

“I’m sorry,” I pathetically mumble against his chest.

Conrad holds me closer, keeping his mouth beside my ear. I feel him rub his cheek along the side of my head. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

I don’t say anything back. His large hand rubs soothingly over my back as I hold on to him like I’m afraid to let go. I should let go, scoot back onto my own side of the bed, but I can’t. I don’t want to.

“When did they come back?” he asks after a few minutes.

Nightmares used to be a nightly occurrence for me. My therapist thinks they come on from stress. After my dad kicked me out and I moved into the loft above the barn, I was plagued with them. I’d constantly wake up drenched in sweat, and I’d have to learn how to calm myself down because I had nobody around except myself.

Once Conrad caught on to what was happening, he would come comfort me. Hell, he would hold me as I fell asleep long before we ever became anything romantic. I don’t know why the idea of him knowing I’m having nightmares again is so embarrassing, but it is.

“They don’t happen often,” I reply honestly. “But I’ve had them a handful of nights over the last couple of months.” We fall into a comfortable silence as he continues to hold me. His heart beats steadily against my cheek, and there’s something so soothing about feeling him breathe. It evens mine out.

Lifting my head, I pull back just enough to peer up at Conrad. “I’m sorry for waking you up.” My voice is nothing more than a mere whisper in the night, emotion thick around each word.

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