“I…”
But I don’t finish the sentence. I can’t. The words aren’t there, and even if they were, how am I supposed to explain to her that I was dreaming about her leaving, and it’s not the first time?
So, I say nothing. I just reach for her, pulling her down onto my lap. She gasps as she falls against me, but I don’t pay any attention to that. All I care about is holding on to her, so that’s what I do.
I wrap my arms around her, pulling her tighter against me. At first, she sits there stiffly, likely trying to figure out what the hell is going on, then finally, she relaxes, sagging against me. I sigh in relief as I bury my face in her neck, inhaling her perfume and coasting my hands over her body.
She’s real. She’s real, and she’s here.
I repeat those words over and over as I work to draw in deep breaths and calm my racing heart. I’m not sure how long it takes, but the pounding in my ears finally subsides, and I feel like I can breathe without having to think about it. Chloe must feel the tension in my shoulders release, because she pulls away, and the look she gives me is enough to send me into another panic attack.
She’s scared. Terrified even. Me fucking too.
Her soft hands slide over my cheeks, and I lean in, savoring the heat and the familiarity of them.
She’s real, and she’s here.
“Are you okay?” she asks softly.
I nod, then swallow the lump that’s settled in my throat. “I’m okay.”
“What just happened? That feels like more than just a dream.”
“It felt like more to me too.”
Her lips pull down again. “What were you dreaming about?”
I shake my head, not wanting to tell her. We’ve had such a good night together, and I don’t want to ruin it now.
“Please,” she asks. “Tell me. Don’t shut me out. We’ve—I’ve,” she amends, “done that enough. We need to talk, no matter how badly it hurts.”
I want to point out that just like in my dream, she’s yet to explain exactly what caused her to walk away from me, but I don’t. I’m not sure that’s a conversation we should have tonight. We aren’t ready. Not yet.
But she is right that we need to talk. We used to be so good at it, until…
I run my tongue over my dry lips. “Water?”
She nods, then reaches behind her to the coffee table where we set our drinks before falling asleep. I take the bottle from her hands and down the rest of it in less than five seconds. It’s not enough, but it’ll do for now. I run the back of my hand over my mouth, then meet her worry-filled stare.
“You left me again.”
Everything about her changes in an instant. Her shoulders slump forward, her eyes are no longer filled with concern, and she tries to scramble away. I don’t let her, grabbing her hips and holding her still on my lap, a place she used to spend a lot of time.
“Hey, hey,” I say, pulling her chin my way and forcing her to look at me. “Don’t run.Please.”
It must be just the word she wants to hear, because she stops fighting me and settles back on my lap. That’s when I see them—tears.
“Come on.” I brush away the wet streak running down her cheek. “Don’t cry. You know I’ve always hated it when you cry.”
Her soft laugh is cut off with a sniffle. “I’m sorry. I just…” She exhales shakily. “I’m sorry, Callum. I’m so fucking sorry.”
Shit.The sadness and pain in her words damn near break me, and I wrap my arms around her, pulling her against my chest, where she starts to cry even harder. I hate it so damn much, but there’s nothing I can do. I can’t tell her it’s okay because it’snotokay, andI’mnot okay. And I can’t tell her it’s not her fault because, in a way, it is.
So I don’t say anything at all. I just hold her and rub her back, and I fight the tears stinging my eyes. When she’s finally calmed down, she pulls away, wiping off the wetness on her cheeks.
“I’m sorry.”
“I know,” I tell her. “I know you are, Clover.”
