“Thank you for coming to get me.”
I brush my thumb over her knuckles. “Always.”
Her breathing evens out, slow and steady, and I stay there longer than I probably should, watching the tension finally leave her body.
TEN
BROOKE
Grant’s faceis too close, his voice too loud, his hands everywhere, and I’m trying to scream but nothing comes out, and my body won’t move, and I can feel the panic climbing up my throat like it’s about to choke me alive.
I jolt awake with a sharp gasp, my heart slamming so hard it actually hurts, like it’s trying to punch its way out of my chest. It’s dark out, it must be the middle of the night. My skin is damp, sweat cooling fast on my face and chest, and it takes me a second to realize I’m breathing like I just ran a mile.
I turn my head and see Rev on the other side of the bed, stretched out on his back, one arm bent over his head, breathing slow and steady. He must’ve come back in after I fell asleep earlier.
My chest tightens a little at that, in a way that’s not panic, just… something softer. Something that makes my throat burn for no logical reason.
I grab my phone off the nightstand and the screen lights up the room just enough for me to squint. 12:47 a.m. I have a bunch ofmissed texts and calls, all from Bella and Bri. My stomach drops until I open the thread and start reading.
Bri: Good morning, Brookie ??
Bella: Are you awake?
Bri: We’ve been waiting for you to text
Bella: Are you okay??
Bri: Please text us when you wake up
Bella: We love you, okay?
Bella: Rev said you were sleeping
Bri: We love you so much ??
Bella: Like… so much it’s ridiculous
Bri: Seriously, we’re not leaving you alone today
My eyes sting immediately, which is rude because I am so not in the mood to cry again. I scroll to the last message and my chest does that tight, twisty thing all over again.
I type out I’m okay, I just woke up, but then delete it. It’s almost one in the morning, and if I answer now, they’re both going to be wide awake and spiraling and probably trying to drive over here. I’ll text them in the morning. When I can sound calm and normal and not like I just ran a marathon in my sleep.
I set my phone down and sit there for a second, trying to slow my breathing, but my heart is still racing and my hands are shaking a little, like my body didn’t get the memo that I’m safe now.
I slide out of bed as quietly as I can, then tiptoe into the hallway and toward the kitchen. The house is quiet, all dark except for the little nightlight in the hall and the faint glow from the microwave clock. I grab a glass, fill it with water, and take a long drink, leaning against the counter and trying to convince my nervous system that we are not in immediate danger anymore.
Only, it’s not working. I’m staring into the sink like it might offer emotional guidance when suddenly a voice comes from behind me.
“Brooke?”
“Jesus Christ,” I gasp, spinning around. “Rev, you scared the hell out of me.”
He freezes in the doorway, hair messy, eyes still half-asleep, wearing nothing but his boxers. “I’m sorry. I heard you moving and thought you might need something.”
I clutch my chest dramatically because I am absolutely still recovering from that jump scare. “I almost threw this water at you and then we would’ve had a very different kind of night.”
He laughs. “Yeah, that’s on me.”
