Not again.
It hits him. Tears into his face. Blood everywhere.
No!
I’m screaming. Trying to reach him. But my legs won’t move.
“Jess.” A voice cuts through the nightmare. “Jess, wake up.”
I jolt awake. Gasping. My heart hammering sohard it hurts.
Marco’s there. Sitting up beside me. His scarred face illuminated by moonlight.
“You’re okay,” he says steadily. “You’re safe. We’re home. Just a dream.”
I’m shaking. Can’t stop shaking. My breath comes in frantic gasps.
“One-two-three, brave,” he says softly. “Breathe with me. In through your nose.” His voice is calm. Anchoring. “Out through your mouth.”
We count together. Just like I used to do for Ben.
“One.”
“Two.”
“Three.”
My breathing slows. The shaking eases.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.
“Don’t be.” He pulls me close. He’s careful of his shoulder but his grip is still firm enough that I feel safe. “Trauma doesn’t just disappear because we want it to. We work through it. Together.”
Together.
That’s the part I keep forgetting.
I don’t have to do this alone anymore.
“When can I move in?” I ask quietly. “As your partner.”
“Whenever you want,” he promises. “Tomorrow. The day after. Next week. Whatever works best for you.”
“Tomorrow,” I say softly, snuggling against him. “Or the day after.”
“Works for me,” he says.
I close my eyes. Let his steady breathing lull me back to sleep.
This time when I drift off, there are no nightmares.
52
Marco
Iwake to the smell of lavender in my sheets and Jess’s warm body pressed against my good shoulder. As usual, my mind immediately begins to catalog everything that’s wrong. The shoulder’s still tender. The scar tissue pulls when I move too fast. The—
Wait.
