Don’t think so far ahead. One day at a time.
Closing my eyes, I focus on taking deep breaths while stilling my mind. It takes a little while, but I’m finally able to drift off to sleep.
Walking into the mansion, everything feels out of place, and I suddenly find myself in the small house I shared with Trent.
Angry people crowd the windows, and I somehow sense they’re Easton’s fans.
All of a sudden, I’m standing in the middle of a field, and huge skyscrapers move across the plains while tornado sirens blare around me.
Intense panic burns through me, and I start to run. Seeing a pool, I dive into the water but then fall onto a hard wooden floor.
“You’re not good enough,” Trent sneers, his foot connecting with my side. “You’ll never be good enough for him.”
Dark and suffocating emotions fill my chest.
“Easton!” I cry while I try to crawl away from Trent. The wood turns to sludge, making it difficult to move, and when I begin to sink into the dark and sticky liquid, I scream, “Easton!”
I dart upright and slam into a solid wall of muscle. My eyes pop open as I desperately gasp for air, and seeing Easton, I throw my arms around his neck and begin to sob.
His body practically engulfs mine, and I shudder as the remnants of the nightmare ripple through me.
“You’re safe. I’ve got you,” Easton murmurs, and when he picks me up bridal style, I bury my face in his neck while trying to regain control over my chaotic emotions.
He carries me to his bedroom, and after placing me on his bed, he lies down and pulls me back into his arms.
“Shh ... I’m here,” he says, his tone tender and comforting.
I press as close to him as I can get, and taking deep breaths of his woodsy scent, I finally start to calm down.
Feeling bad for waking him, I whisper, “I’m sorry.”
“There’s nothing to apologize for,” he assures me. “Nightmare?”
I nod, my cheek brushing against his bare chest.
“Want to talk about it?”
“I can’t remember much of it,” I reply. “Just a field with tornado sirens. Trent was kicking me, and I couldn’t get to you.”
Easton’s hold on me tightens even more, and he throws one of his legs over mine, his body caging me to the bed in the best way possible. “I won’t let anyone ever lay a finger on you again.”
My left arm is pinned between us, but I’m able to cling to him with my right. With every passing minute, I feel a little better, but I doubt I’ll be able to fall asleep again.
“What’s the time?” I ask.
“Around three a.m.”
Easton rubs my back, and at some point, he slips his hand beneath my shirt and draws random patterns on my skin.
Just like earlier, when we were watching TV, I become overly aware of him, to the point where the world can go to hell around us, and I won’t notice.
I have no idea how much time passes, too consumed with the man I love more than life.
Unable to stop myself, I flatten my palm on his back and slowly explore every swell and dip of his muscles.
My breathing speeds up, then he shifts until we’re lying face to face. His hand is still brushing up and down my back, and as our breaths mingle, he slowly drags his fingers over my ribs.
My lips part, and placing my hand on his forearm, I drink in the feel of his warm skin as my palm moves up to his shoulder.
