He chuckled. “I was sleeping out in the hallway.”
“The hallway? On the floor?!”
He nodded, a sheepish grin on his lips. “No worse than sleeping on the ground under the stars. You had a nightmare?”
I nodded, unable to speak past the tightness in my throat. My heart was still racing, the terror of the dream clinging to me like a second skin.
“The river,” I managed finally. “I couldn’t get out.”
Understanding dawned in his eyes. He sat on the edge of the bed, one hand still on my shoulder, steadying me. “You’re safe now. You got out. You’re here.”
“Nora?” I asked, suddenly panicked that my screams had woken her.
“I haven’t heard anything from her room, so I imagine she’s still asleep,” he assured me. “That kidcould probably sleep through a tornado.”
A small, shaky laugh escaped me. “She gets that from me. Usually, anyway.”
Jake’s thumb moved in small circles against my shoulder, the touch soothing. “Do you want some water? Tea?”
I shook my head, not wanting him to leave. “Just... stay? For a minute?”
He nodded, his eyes never leaving mine. “Of course.”
We sat in silence, his presence gradually calming me. The nightmare receded, replaced by an acute awareness of him—the warmth of the skin of his forearm under my palm, the steady rise and fall of his breathing, the way the lamplight caught in his dark hair.
“Sorry I woke you,” I said finally.
“Don’t be.” His voice was soft in the quiet room. “I wasn’t sleeping much anyway.”
I looked up at him, really looked, and saw the exhaustion etched in the lines around his eyes, the shadows beneath them. “You need rest, too, Jake. You can’t keep taking watch shifts and sleeping on couches and floors.”
“I’ve slept in worse places,” he said with a small smile.
“That doesn’t mean you should have to.” I shiftedover, making space beside me on the bed. “There’s plenty of room here.”
His eyes widened slightly. “Ella, I don’t think—”
“Just to sleep,” I clarified, though even as I said it, I knew that wasn’t all I wanted. “You need proper rest if you’re going to keep us safe.”
He hesitated, clearly torn. “Are you sure?”
In answer, I lifted the covers in invitation. After another moment’s pause, he slid in beside me, careful to maintain a few inches of space between us. I reached over and turned off the lamp, plunging the room into darkness save for the moonlight filtering through the curtains.
We lay there in silence, both hyper-aware of the other’s presence. I could feel the heat of his body, hear the soft sound of his breathing. The bed suddenly felt smaller than it had a moment ago.
“Better than the floor?” I asked, my voice sounding too loud in the quiet room.
“Much,” he admitted. Then, after a pause: “How are you feeling? Really.”
I considered the question. “Physically? Sore. Tired. But better than I should be, considering.”
“And otherwise?”
I sighed, staring up at the ceiling. “Confused. Angry. Scared.” I turned my head to look at him, finding his eyes already on me in the dim light. “Grateful.”
“Grateful?” he repeated, his voice low.
“To be alive,” I said. “To have Nora. To have you.”
