For me?
That wouldn’t make sense. Teeth chattering, still vibrating with terror, I observe distantly as a police car and ambulance pull up to a house in front of me. They’re clearly in the right place, given how the paramedic and officer confer about something before walking up together. Like a rubber band, I snap back to reality andrun.
I’m not wasting a chance to get home while Aaron is gone, no matter what condition I’m in. There’s no way to measure the amount of time that it takes me to stumble through the door, a whimpering, snotty mess. But the second I do, I collapse against the door and let the storm finally sweep me away.
~~~
Awareness trickles in slowly, but the most grounding thing is without a doubt the warm body surrounding me. Hands: one holding me firmly in place on my lower back, the other massaging my neck. It consumes my senses in the best way. A heartbeat thumps solidly in my ear. The familiar scent of soap.
Without really meaning to, I snuggle against him deeper. “Hey, sweetheart.” He punctuates it with a kiss to the top of my hair, but I’m not satisfied with that and look up, chasing his lips with my own.
They’re soft and solid and everything I need. Despite the distinct impression that I’ve recently been flattened by a semi truck, it does make me feel a little better after letting myself fall into Chase for a moment. “I take it the solo run didn’t work out so good today?” he asks when I pull back.
There’s no judgment in his tone, but I don’t know why I expected any. There never is with him. Just concern and an open desire to help like always. “It was him, Chase. I know it. He was following me and then he took off, and it was horrible. He was going to kill me and then he was just gone.”
His dark brow creases. “Well, that explains why I found you curled up on the floor in a complete panic. We heard the door slam and figured it wasn’t good. Are you okay? Did anything happen?”
As if my ankle had been compartmentalizing itself until this very moment, the pain suddenly flares to life. Rather than answering, I sit up and roll up the leg of my pants to inspectmyself. Sure enough, it’s swollen and angry red. Chase sucks his teeth. “Ouch. Come on. Let’s get you some ice for this.”
He stands, and rather than just helping me to my feet, scoops me up like a princess. So dramatic. I love it. I’m deposited on the couch after he finds a bag of frozen vegetables and a towel. “Is this okay?” Chase asks after getting me situated with my foot propped up like the true mother hen he is. This man makes fun of my brother way too much for all this fuss he’s making.
“Yeah. Thank you. Can you come here and hold me again?”
There’s a moment of insecurity, like I should be embarrassed of asking my boyfriend for anything. It’s quickly washed away when Chase doesn’t hesitate to comply. My nerves are frayed and delicate. Everything hurts, and I’m exhausted. When his heartbeat is steady in my ear again, the tears reappear. Maybe relief this time. “It’s okay, Chaos. I’ve got you. You’re safe.”
Safe for now, sure. But what about tomorrow or the next day?
I’m pampered all day long except the part where Blake threatened me within an inch of my life for not just waking her up so none of this would have happened. She opts to sit on the floor in front of the couch to be closer to me rather than being comfortable on the other side of the sectional, and I feel terrible for worrying her. I would be a mess if the roles were reversed, and she’s clearly beating herself up for oversleeping so I just let it roll off my back. Being so cared for that people take it so personally when a choice I made ends up with me being hurt is so foreign that it’s almost humorous.
They don’t pry or push. Just hover, which I can’t blame them for. No one is more aware of what happened the last time he got too close than me, and they’re right to be rattled. But Chase doesn’t leave my side all day. We watch a ton of movies, some that I sleep through because panic attacks apparently wipe me out, and do our best to pretend the walls aren’t closing in.
In my dreams, I see Asher. Him chained to that damn bed, screaming for me to help him as flames consume him. In them, my body won’t move. I can’t talk. Nothing. Like I’m glued to the floor, forced to watch as he burns.
It’s easier to stay awake. Much easier.
CHAPTER 28
CHASE
The nightmares are back in full force, and I’m torn up watching him struggle. “Baby, please wake up,” I urge, rubbing his back soothingly.
He whines, a broken, terrified sound that shatters my heart. His hair is soaked through with sweat and his skin is clammy to the touch. My poor, sweet Chaos. He’s in the thick of it and he’s not easily roused. “You’re safe. I’m right here.”
Easton flips to his back, sheets clenched tightly between his fingers and neck corded with tension. I’ve got to get him to wake up. This one isn’t letting him go without a fight. This time, I shake him; not hard but not even close to the loving touch I prefer when it gets bad. “Come on, baby. It’s okay. You’re okay. Just wake up for me.”
With a gasp, he bolts upright, making me pitch sideways to avoid a broken nose. His breath wrenches out of his chest in shallow pants. “It’s okay, sweetheart. It’s just a nightmare. You’re safe,” I assure him, rubbing my hand over my pounding heart.
Cautiously, I slide an arm around his back, carefully watching for signs that he’s still coming around. He doesn’tflinch or try to get away, but it takes a long moment for him to relax into my arms. “There you go. You’re okay. I’ve got you.”
From behind me, I grab a bottle of water from the nightstand and pass it to him. After a few swallows, he hands it back and rubs his eyes tiredly. Ever since his most recent run-in a couple of days ago, he’s been having a hell of a time processing it. During the day it is a little easier, but he’s noticeably more distracted and far away, often spending as much time painting as possible. It doesn’t help as much as it normally would. Then night rolls around and he’s getting less sleep than he was last summer.
He’s exhausted and in pain, which is not a good combination for anyone. Given the way his muscles are still rigid from the nightmare, he’s probably not going to be able to go back to sleep very easily. “Hey, I’ll be right back, okay? I want to grab something.”
Easton’s nose scrunches up slightly, but he’s too tired to really ask questions, so after a quick kiss to his temple, I slip out of bed and pad quietly down the stairs. It’s a hairbrained idea with very little chance of success, but hopefully he’ll at least think it’s cute and get a laugh out of it.
I find him exactly where I left him, sitting upright in the bed with the sheets tangled around his waist. “Watch your eyes, baby.” He winces when I turn on the lamp and crawl back in bed.
“Why in god's name is the light on?” he grouses, falling backwards and pulling a pillow over his head.
