She thrashes again, and I realize it’s because I keep moving her foot. Even fully asleep, in the throes of a nightmare, she needs one foot on the floor.
Why?
I fear I know the answer, and burning rage infiltrates my mind. There’s only one reason someone would sleep that way—so they’re ready to run. This tiny woman is ready to flee, even when unconscious, and that makes me hold on to her even more tightly because though she escaped the cult, the cult hasn’t escaped her.
It takes twenty minutes for her breathing to even out. For the tremors to stop. For her body to relax into a dreamless sleep instead of fighting it.
Only then does Wrecks settle around our feet.
“Good boy,” I say. “You tried.” And I fucking appreciate that he did.
My phone buzzes on the bed next to me.
Rip: Camera two is back online.
Rip: Checked the hardware. Line’s frayed. Could be sun damage.
Rip: Roman’s sending a guy tomorrow to sweep the whole system.
I stare at the message. Could be sun damage. Or more likely, it’s something, someone else.
So I stay.
Because leaving isn’t an option.
Because the monitor on the RV showed her home, but it didn’t show this—the way she curls into me like I’m the only solid thing in her world. The way her hand fists my T-shirt like she’s afraid I’ll disappear. The way she’s still counting under her breath, even in sleep.
One. Two. Three. Four. Five.
My heart breaks and rebuilds in the span of those five seconds.
I should go. Every protocol I’ve ever learned says so.
But then she sighs, soft and content, and burrows closer.
So I stay.
I waketo sunlight streaming through blackout curtains that apparently aren’t doing their job becausesomeonechewed through three-quarters of one of them, a hundred-pound dog sprawled across my legs, and Clover’s face inches from mine.
She’s awake and staring at me with those honey-colored eyes as though she’s not sure if she’s seeing a ghost or not.
“Hi,” she whispers.
“Hi.”
“You’re in my bed.”
I swallow hard. “You had a nightmare.”
Her cheeks flush pink. “I…remember. Sort of.” She bites her lip. “You stayed.”
“You asked me to.”
Surprise lights up her face, right before the embarrassment hits. “I did?”
“You don’t remember that part?”
She starts to pull away, creating distance, but I tighten my arms around her waist.
