Page 24 of Halfway to Hell
When it ended, he wanted to kiss her again, but Lisa was already walking away.
“What’s your hurry, sweetheart?” he called after her.
She smiled but kept walking farther away. Why was she walking instead of getting into her car? He turned and saw the car on its side, smoke billowing from the engine.
Spinning back, he searched for his wife. “Lisa!” he screamed.
But she was gone. The acrid smell of fire and smoke strangled him. Hands grabbed at him, trying to pull him back. Texas shoved them away, desperate to find her.
Then she came back into view—but her dark hair was blonde, her eyes a soft blue instead of dark green.
“Sunday. Don’t get in the car,” he told her.
“Don’t go,” he begged.
Sunday was jarred awake by the sound of Texas calling out. She shoved the blanket from her face and listened, catching his desperate voice calling for Lisa. Sitting up, she realized he was trapped in a bad dream. Gently, she reached out to shake him awake.
But when Texas slapped her hand away, Sunday froze. He was deep in the dream—too far gone—and if she kept trying to wake him, she might get hurt.
Then he screamed.
Sunday slammed herself back against the wall, making herself as small as possible.
The door burst open, flooding the room with harsh hallway light. A half-naked man stormed inside, long hair tousled, medium height. Sunday barely had time to register him before Texas began thrashing wildly on the bed.
Sunday scrambled toward the end of the bed, heart pounding.
“He’s having a nightmare about someone named Lisa. I can’t get him to wake up.”
Eros didn’t know who the girl was in Texas’s room, but she needed to get clear before Texas’s thrashing caused injury. Taking two careful steps toward the bed, he held out his hand to her.
“Come on. Before he hits you by accident.”
Sunday hesitated but reached for his hand just as Texas suddenly stopped moving and whispered her name, “Sunday.”
Turning back, she saw his eyes wide open, glassy, and unfocused. “Right here.”
Texas’s gaze shifted to the foot of the bed, where a familiar face appeared. “Eros.”
“I’m here, brother. You were having a nightmare. I was trying to keep the squaw from getting hurt.”
“Thanks, but I’m good now.”
“Sounds good. Let me know when you’re ready to head out. I’ll ride with you both.” Eros retraced his steps and left the room.
Sunday moved back up the bed and lay down beside Texas. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah. Just a bad dream.”
“Who’s Lisa?”
Texas laid his arm over his eyes, trying to steady the flood of emotions. His skin felt slick with sweat, cool in the dim room. He heard Sunday’s question, soft but steady. “My wife.”
Sunday’s gaze flicked to the faded line on his ring finger—the faint ghost of a promise long past. She wondered how long it had been since he’d stopped wearing it. “Where is she?”
“Lisa passed away three years ago.”
Sunday’s hand flew to her mouth, her breath catching in a silent gasp. “I’m so sorry, Texas.”
