Each morning I woke beside Kane, a voice inside me whispered someone would steal this away.The world had snatched so much from me already.Mom.My brother.Every apartment I’d called home.Any peace I’d managed to find.
And now Kane.
Not yet, I answered silently.Not while I could fight.
His arm draped warm and heavy across my waist.My back nestled against his chest, his breath warming the nape of my neck.Morning silence filled the house.The compound beyond our walls remained hushed too, though I sensed people moving around -- their sounds muffled by distance and walls.
For a full minute I remained still, soaking in the sensation.
I felt his heartbeat against my spine while he breathed, slow and deep.When he shifted, his stubble scratched my shoulder as he buried his face in my hair.
His fingers twitched against my stomach before a small jerk ran through his body.His breath caught.The arm holding me tightened around my waist.
“No,” he muttered, sleep roughening his voice.“Not her.You want somebody, you take me.”
My stomach clenched.
“Kane,” I said softly.“Hey.It’s me.”
He jerked again.His hand flexed against my skin like he braced for a hit.I rolled in his hold so I could see his face.
His eyes stayed shut.Jaw clenched hard, teeth grinding.A vein throbbed at his temple.
“Kane.”I laid my hand against his cheek.“Wake up for me.”
His lashes fluttered.The tightness in his mouth eased a fraction.“Jade?”he rasped.
“Yeah.”I stroked my thumb along his cheekbone.“You were dreaming.”
He sucked in a breath, then let it out on a curse.“Fuck.”
“Nightmare?”I asked.
“Old shit,” he said.He shifted away as though worried about crushing me, then stopped when I followed and stayed pressed to him.“Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize,” I said.“I talk in my sleep too.After double shifts, I’ve mumbled some truly weird nonsense.”
Kane huffed a laugh.His hand moved from my waist to the small of my back, fingers spreading across my skin in a gesture of reassurance.
“What happened?”I asked quietly.“Want to tell me or would you prefer to shove everything back in the box?”
Kane opened his eyes and studied me.Brown, warm, still gritty from sleep.Nobody had ever watched me with such trust -- more faith than in the morning light streaming through our window.
“Nothing useful,” he said finally.“Just greatest hits.Wrong doors.Wrong nights.Wrong people taking bullets because I made a call.”
“Club stuff?”I asked.
Kane’s mouth twisted into a grimace.“Some club.Some military.My brain loves to mash everything together so I wake up sweating and pissed off at ghosts I can’t punch.”
“Military,” I repeated.He never talked about his service beyond occasional references.
“Yeah.”His eyes darkened.“Ancient history now.”
My fingers traced his jaw.“Tell me or don’t tell me.Your choice.”
He studied me for another beat, like he weighed something.Then his shoulders dropped a little.
“Sometimes I dream I’m back there,” he said.“Sand.Heat.Radio screaming.Somebody yelling in my ear.I always see faces I don’t remember in the daytime.Just blurs.Men I probably knew better than my own family for a while.In the dream they’re always dying.And I’m never fast enough.Never smart enough.Never enough, period.”
