Page 22 of The Only Reason (The Trident Trilogy 2)

Chapter Eleven

Millie

San Diego, California

2020

“Dad? Where are you?”

We just landed in San Diego a few hours ago, and we’ve already looked at three houses. We’re on our fourth house now—a cute little bungalow near Pacific Beach. We’re moving here soon and Dad told me I get to choose the house. I’m standing in the street, looking at the front. Dad disappeared inside somewhere.

“Millie. I’m here, sweetie. I’m inside. Come and find me.” It’s his voice, but it sounds really distant. He must be down in the basement. I try to walk to the house, but my feet aren’t moving for some reason. I look down to make sure they’re still attached.

“Dad, I’ll be there in a second!” I yell, hoping he can hear me above the loud rumbling sound that has just started. I try to move my feet again, with no luck.

“Millie? Where are you? I’m here!” I can barely hear him now, even though I can tell he’s screaming. The rumbling sound has turned into a roar.

“I’m coming to find you!” I scream at the top of my lungs. As I try to throw my body forward to get my feet moving, a violent gust of wind blows me backward into the street. I fall down and hit my head hard against the curb. As the darkness starts to surround me, I hear the house blow up. I suddenly see Dad’s body flying toward me. “Millie! Help me! Help me!” he screams as he passes over me.

I reach up to try to catch him. “Dad! Dad! Daaaaaaadddd . . .”

“Millie. Wake up.” I open my eyes to see Mason inches from my face. He’s shaking me gently. “You’re having another bad dream. It’s okay, baby. Wake up.”

I take a sharp breath in and look around the room quickly to see if my dad is there. He’s not. I’m in my bedroom in San Diego. Mason is here. Dad isn’t. I have to remind myself Dad is still dead.

Mason pulls me up and presses my shoulders back against the headboard. He’s still shaking me gently. “Mills. Look right here at me. You’re awake now. The dream is over.”

As my eyes start filling with tears, I nod my head so he knows I heard him. He pulls me to his chest and wraps his arms around me tightly. “It’s okay, baby. You’re okay. It’s over. No one is going to hurt you.” He kisses the top of my head as he rocks me back and forth slowly.

My head is spinning as I try to remember what’s happening. I used to have these nightmares almost every night. I’ve only had a few in the two months Mason has been practically living with me. I was beginning to think they were leaving me for good. The thought of them returning makes me shudder. Mason squeezes me tighter.

“Do you want to talk about it? You were yelling for your dad. You haven’t done that before,” Mason whispers gently in my ear. “Was the dream different from the other ones?”

I pull back from his hug and lean against the headboard again. He wipes away my tears and reaches down to hold my hands.

“I haven’t had this one before. Dad’s never talked to me in the dreams. It’s always just him blowing up in a house. You know? The way he died. And it always looks like it’s in Iraq where it actually happened. This dream was this house blowing up, and he was yelling at me to find him. I tried to get to him, but I couldn’t move. What do you think that means?”

He brushes the hair out of my face and strokes my cheek gently. “Mills, I don’t think it means anything. It’s just a dream. Your subconscious is mixing past and present. You know how weird dreams can be sometimes. Most of my dreams don’t make any sense at all.”

“Yeah. I know,” I say, curling my legs up against me. “It felt like he was trying to tell me something. Do you think it’s possible for dead people to talk to you in dreams?”

“I don’t know, Mills. It’s never happened to me. I used to dream about my mom all the time. She talked in the dreams, but I never really felt like she was trying to send me a message. It was like I was reliving a memory or something. But you know, she didn’t die violently like your dad did, so maybe your dreams about him are more powerful than mine were.”

“Yeah. I feel like it was an omen or something. It’s creepy.” Just as I finish saying it, a loud banging noise makes me dive under the covers.

“Mills,” Mason says, pulling the covers back from my head. “Babe. Breathe. It’s just someone knocking on the front door.”

“What time is it?” I say, looking for my phone.

“Just before six. Are you expecting anyone?” He pulls the nightstand drawer open, where he keeps his loaded pistol.

“No. Not at six in the morning.” I reach for his hand to pull it away from the gun. “I’m sure you don’t need that. Right?”

He gives me a stern look, but closes the drawer without getting the gun. “Stay here. I’ll see who it is.”

As I get out of bed to put on my robe, I hear a familiar voice coming from the living room.

“I’m looking for Millie Marsh. Does she live here?”

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