Page 49 of From the Wreckage
I force my lungs to work, dragging in uneven gulps. I nod, because words won’t come yet. My hands tremble against my thighs.
Her palm finds me, warm against my leg. “Are you sure?”
I finally look at her—and the panic recedes. My breathing’s still ragged, but not as sharp or suffocating as it usually is. I haven’t had a nightmare like this in months. Of course, the first time it happens, she’s here.
I pull her into me, crushing her to my chest, breathing her in. The wildflowers. The vanilla.Her.
We sink back against the pillows, her body molding against mine. I press my lips to her hair, whispering rough and hoarse against her crown. “I am now.”
Her fingers smooth along my chest, tracing mindless patterns over the sheen of sweat. Her voice is quiet. Cautious. “Do you want to tell me what it was about?”
The question cuts deep, but not in a way that hurts. In a way that tempts. For a moment, I almost give in. Almost let her see the wreckage I carry inside.
But I can’t. Not yet.
My arms tighten around her, my lips brushing her hair. “It was just a bad dream, angel. Nothing more.”
She shifts against me, her cheek resting over my heart. I know she doesn’t believe me, but she doesn’t press. She just stays, steady and warm, her breaths syncing with mine until the panic ebbs.
I bury my face in her hair, inhaling her like she’s oxygen. My voice is low and rough. “Go back to sleep.”
Her soft sigh seeps into me, unraveling the last of the terror. Within minutes, her body relaxes, her breathing steady and even as she drifts off again.
I stay awake longer, holding her close, pretending the nightmare was nothing more than shadows.
But even as her warmth steadies me, I know the truth.
One day, the past will catch up. And when it does, I’ll have to decide if I’m strong enough to let her see the whole of it… or if I’ll lose her when she does.
CHAPTER 33
Everett
Sunlight cuts through the window,warming my face, but I don’t feel warm. The echoes of the dream linger, shadows clawing at the edges of my mind. I shift, careful not to wake her.
Bri is curled against me, silky hair spilled over my chest, her breath soft and even. She looks so damn peaceful, so untouched by the darkness that eats at me. I wish I could keep it that way forever.
I slide my hand up her back, fingers lightly tracing her spine. For a second, the urge to wake her just to hear her voice almost wins. To bury myself deep inside her until the shadows fall away and her light fills me like last night.
But I stop myself. She deserves mornings free of wreckage. Free of me.
Her lashes flutter, and she blinks up at me, hazel eyes sleepy but sharp in the way they always cut straight through me. “Morning.”
“Mornin’, angel.” I drown in her eyes, forgetting about the darkness for a minute.
“You didn’t sleep much after the dream, did you?” Her voice is soft, knowing.
I tense, then force a half-shrug. “I’m fine.”
Her hand comes up, cupping my jaw. “Everett…” The way she says my name is gentle, like she knows I’m lying but won’t push too hard.
I kiss her palm, needing to redirect before I crumble. “Not something you need to worry about, angel. It was just a dream. Nothing more.”
She studies me for a long beat, like she wants to argue. Instead, she just nods, though the look in her eyes tells me she’s not convinced.
I roll us so she’s tucked under me, brushing my lips over hers in a kiss that’s meant to distract both of us. “I love seeing you when I wake,” I murmur, letting a small smile break through.
Her lips curve against mine, though her hand lingers against my chest like she doesn’t want to let go of the subject. “Best part of waking up is seeing you.”
