Page 49 of Run to Me
“Nah. I’ve got it. I used to be the snack runner, remember?”
“Only when we were home. You made me walk out to the stands whenever we went to the drive-in.”
“That’s ’cause I know how much you enjoy outdoor walks,” I tease, and that drags a snort out of him.
“Whatever. Hurry up and see if we got any hot Cheetos in the pantry.”
“Someone’s sounding at home finally.” I nudge him with my shoulder and stand up from the couch.
“Yeah, I guess having you here really helps.”
Giddy inside, I smile all the way to the kitchen. We eat more popcorn and he tries to get me to eat one of his Cheetos. I don’t tell him why we have them. I lied to Mom about them being from a friend who often brought extra food from home, because I didn’t want her to know the truth of where they came from either. I’ve been saving them all this time. Whenever I visit our favorite sandwich place alone, I grab a bag with my meal, and I brought them here this morning when I knew he was coming over for dinner.
The movie reaches the credits and we stay on the couch talking about our last trip to the movies. Jace mentions how he has to watch scary movies alone now and shield his pillow’s pretend eyes from jump scares.
Shaking my head, I laugh. “Oh, be quiet. You know I haven’t even seen a horror flick since college.”
“Really?” His forehead shifts in surprise. “Why not?” He slides a Cheeto between his reddening lips.
“Glen doesn’t care for them and I don’t really have anyone to watch them with. All my friends from work and school always choose some chick flick or drama when we meet at the theater.”
“That sucks. I guess we’ll have to watch one before I leave then.”
“You’ll still have to shield me from the scary scenes, though. Sure you’re up for the task?”
He preens. “I think I can handle it.”
Both deciding it’s too late to drive anywhere, we turn in, walking into our separate rooms after telling each other goodnight in the dark hallway.
“See you in the morning,” I say. “I hope you missed my famous pancakes.”
“You mean the lopsided ones with slightly burned edges?” he says, pausing in the doorway.
“Hey, I’d like to think I’ve improved a little.”
“Well, if it’s only a little then I can’t wait.” He enters his room fully, leaving me alone, and I watch his closed door for too long before climbing into bed.
Shifting under the covers, I move around my pillows, unable to close my eyes for longer than a few seconds at a time. I stare up at the ceiling, reminiscing about the made-up stories Jace used to tell me when I couldn’t sleep, replaying one of my favorites in my head until I relax enough to close my eyes again. As I’m dozing off, a high-pitched scream has me jolting up in bed. When Jace starts shouting unintelligible words in his sleep, I lock my door and rush to his room through our shared bathroom.
He's tossing and turning, drenched in sweat when I turn on the small lamp on his dresser. His eyes don’t open and he shakes, saying, “No. I didn’t do it. I was the one who stopped it. It couldn’t have been me.”
“Jace.” I shake at his shoulder, watching his door. “It’s okay. I’m here. You’re only dreaming.” His nightmares have stopped. “Jace,” I say again and he swings at me, saying something under his breath.
“I tried to stop it,” he cries. “I’m sorry I was too late. I tried.”
My heart rattles in my chest. When I don’t hear any noise out in the hallway, I move quickly to the door to twist the lock in place.
Jace cries some more, tugging at the pillows and slamming his legs against the bed. He slaps at his own face and scratches at his neck. I rush toward him, holding his wrists in place and kissing his temple. “Shh.” I start singing an old lullaby, one that used to settle him the most on his worst days, and release him when his body goes slack.
Shutting off the lamp behind me, I crawl into bed beside him and wrap my arms tightly around him. I hold him as he tries to fight some more, singing louder until his breathing evens out. Finally he stills against me, and I bury my face in his neck and kiss his sweaty skin. He’d see this as a hardship, but I see it as being here for him like he’s been for me. What’s been a real hardship is spending the last seven years in a bed without him.
Twenty-Three
Jace
The strong scent of buttermilk pancakes assaults my nose and I sit up in bed, stretching my arms. The blanket lowers to my knees with one shove of my hands and my bare feet come in contact with the cold floor.
Pans bang together downstairs and I stand up, searching for my jeans. After throwing on enough clothes and running my fingers through my hair, I follow the alluring smell downstairs to where Nate is flipping pancakes on a large skillet while swinging his hips from side to side in the firefly pajamas I didn’t think he still owned.
