I swallowed, scrubbing my palms on my thighs. “Occasionally.”
When I was emotionally stressed. Or had lightning on my mind. Of course, once the stressors went away, the sleepwalking did too.
Not that I volunteered that information for Jack.
Silence.
Jack’s gaze was far too-seeing, as usual. “You care to elaborate?”
“Not really.” My mouth pulled to the side.
“Why did you wake up screaming?”
The question caused the lid on my mental black hole to lurch upward, thoughts and memories trying to break free. I brutally forced them all down.
Nope. Not talking about it.
I was too emotionally fragile to cope with Jack’s inquisitiveness today. The kind gentleness in his eyes caused that scary feeling within my chest to fluff and flutter, quickening my breathing.
I pushed off the couch and into the kitchen, intent on making myself a cup of espresso. I was watching the coffee brew when I noticed the piece of paper on the counter, words scrawled with a black sharpie in Italian.
Lightning is the only answer.
Goosebumps chased my spine, horror and memories causing my hands to shake.
I stared at the paper for far too long.
I didn’t have to turn around to know that Jack stood behind me.
“How did this get here?” I whispered. “Was there a break-in?”
Terrible to say, but in that moment, I hoped the paper came from the Tempeste family. That somehow they had sneaked into the villa and left the message without Jack realizing or me being harmed.
Yeah. Even my most optimistic self knew that was a lie.
You know you have arrived at a dark place in your life when you hope an organized crime syndicate is behind an obscure message. Because the only other option . . .
“There was no break-in, Chiara.”
My head sank into my hands, elbows propped on the countertop. “What happened then?”
“You know what happened,” he said.
Yeah. Pretty sure I did, but for some reason I wanted him to say it.
“You wrote it in your sleep.” Jack’s voice was soft, kind. “I don’t think the Tempeste family is behind your mysterious nightly lightning messages.”
Even though I knew it, the words chilled me. Why this? Why now? Why dredge up the black-hole buried past?
And worse, why in front of Jack?
My cheeks scorched at the thought of what I might have said in my dreams, of the things I may have told him. Things that were so terrifyingly personal—
“Did I say anything?”
“Yes.”
That was it. JustYesand nothing more.
