CHAPTER
SIXTEEN
TESSA
There’s darkness everywhere, and a low, terrifying, eerie sound that I can’t quite place. My heart hammers in my chest, and while I can’t see anything, I can feel him. I feel his anger radiating like heat, his rage pulsing in the air around me, his disappointment wrapping around my throat like a hand. I can anticipate his retaliation—it’s coming, it’s always coming—and my body knows it before my mind catches up.
Then I smell him. That expensive cologne that always burns my nostrils. It makes my stomach turn. The scent gets stronger, suffocating, and I cover my mouth, choking on it.
My body shakes as I try to look for an escape, but it’s so dark I can’t see anything. I’m so tired of being afraid. So tired of running. So tired of existing in this constant state of terror.
His footsteps echo in the darkness, getting closer. I can’t recall what I did. What did I do this time? Why is this happening again?
All at once, he’s in front of me—appearing out of nowhere like he always does. His eyes are bulging with barely restrainedrage, his face twisted into something monstrous, his hand already raised?—
I can no longer take it.
I let out a bloodcurdling scream.
I jolt upright in bed, my scream still echoing in my ears, my heart pounding so hard I think it might burst through my chest. I frantically look around the room, my brain struggling to recognize where I am.
Not there. Not with him. Somewhere else. But where?
The bedroom door swings open, and Logan rushes in, his hair messed from sleep, concern etched across his face.
“Hey,” he says gently, his voice cutting through my panic. “Hey, it’s okay.”
My erratic breathing is coming in short, sharp gasps. I can’t get enough air.
“It’s just a dream.” He approaches slowly like I’m a frightened animal that might bolt. “You’re okay.”
He climbs into bed beside me, careful not to touch me without permission. “You’re safe. You’re here. You’re okay.”
Then I remember the events from earlier—the fight, the bruises, the back alley rescue. I ran away. Now, I’m hiding in this professional hockey player’s luxury condo.
What am I doing? How did my life become this?
I press my hands to my face and breathe deeply, trying to regulate my breathing.In for four, hold for four, out for four.
Logan carefully wraps an arm around my shoulders, pulling me close to his side. His body is warm and solid, grounding me in the present.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.
“Shh,” he murmurs, his hand rubbing slow circles on my back. “You don’t have to be sorry. You’re okay. You’re safe. Nothing can happen to you here.”
My chest aches as the panic lingers beneath the surface, still threatening to pull me under. The nightmare felt so real. He felt so real.
“You’re okay,” Logan says again, his voice steady and sure. “It was just a dream.”
I don’t say anything for the longest time. I just sit there, leaning against him, focusing on the rise and fall of his chest, the warmth of his arm around me, and the way his thumb traces gentle patterns on my shoulder.
Finally, I whisper, “I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have to be sorry, Tessa,” he says softly.
“I’m sorry you have to deal with this. With me.”
“Stop,” he says, not unkindly. “You don’t have to apologize for having a nightmare. You’re safe here. Believe me when I tell you that no one’s going to hurt you here. We’re going to figure this out. I’m going to help you.”
