I jolt awake, drawing in a breath that feels like a knife in my throat. There’s a hand on my face. Two hands. Soft, warm hands and a forehead pressed to mine, and—Este.
My vision is hazy when I force my eyes open, but I focus on her. She looks worried.
“Sor—I’m… Sorry. I’m sorry,” I murmur, or I try to. I’m shaking, and the words are all disjointed.
Este breathes my name, gripping me tighter. “Shh. It’s okay. You’re awake. It’s over now.”
It’s over now.Usually, people tell you to remember that nightmares aren’t real. But this was real. This happened. And Este knows that. Because she lives it.
I wrap my arms around her and try to match my breathing to hers. When I no longer feel like every breath might be my last, I loosen my hold on her and brush her hair back from her face. Este searches my expression, and I see a little of her panic fade. “I’m sorry for waking you.” My voice is scratchy, my throat sore as hell. I don’t want toknow if I was screaming out loud. It wouldn’t be the first time.
“You didn’t. I hadn’t fallen asleep yet.”
I glance at the clock on the nightstand and frown. We’ve been in bed for a few hours. “Are you okay?”
She nods, absentmindedly tracing her finger around my hairline. “Just couldn’t settle. And I… I can’t explain it, but I had a feeling you’d need me tonight.”
I swallow down the lump in my throat. It’s been so long since anyone was close enough to me to see me like that. “Thank you. It was… It’s been a while since it was that bad.” That’s what happens when I let myself think about Georgie more than usual, I guess. She felt so real, and as much as it hurts, this is the most vividly I’ve remembered her in years. I don’t want to forget the details of her.
Este doesn’t ask what my nightmare was about. If it was that bad, she knows, and she knows I don’t want to repeat it. Instead, she says, “After the crash, when I was trying to force myself to get up and out again, I stumbled upon a little coffee shop near my apartment that I’d never seen before. I fell in love with their coffee, and I went in every day for two weeks before the old couple that ran the place started talking to me. They’re Italian and moved here thirty years ago, but their English isn’t great. My Italian isn’t great, but we chatted a little more every time I went in. I helped them set up a Facebook page and posted about them in some local groups. They’re much busier now, and, when I’m home, I still go every day I can.”
We don’t usually trade good stories, but I see what she’s doing. Sharing something good that came from somethingbad. Giving me the chance to do the same without feeling guilty about it.
“If the accident hadn’t happened, I would never have moved here. Which means Shay would never have moved here, and she might never have met Noelle. And if I’d never moved here, I would’ve been around to watch you grow up. Which means…” I trail off, and a perfect smile curves Este’s lips.
“We would never have had this.”
16
ESTE
“Are you going to murder me?”
I can’t see Nico’s expression, since it’s pitch black outside save for the beam of his flashlight shining through the forest, but I can imagine his raised brow perfectly. “Wasn’t planning on it.”
“Okay. It’s just, you see how telling me to get dressed to walk through a dark forest at three a.m. is giving murder vibes, right? And some people would find the hulking reclusive mountain man lumberjack thing you have going on scary.”
“Some people?” I can hear his smile.
“Not me, obviously. Clearly, I’m into it.”
“You should bring that up with your therapist. There’s probably something to unpack there.”
“Oh, yeah. That’s the weird part. Not the way I get off on calling you Daddy and thinking about you doing whatever you want to me.”
Nico snorts and tugs me in closer to him, running his thumb over the back of my gloved hand.
After he calmed down from his nightmare, and I forced him to drink a cup of chamomile tea, neither of us was inthe mood to go back to sleep. I could tell he didn’t want to talk about the nightmare—and he didn’t need to. It was crystal clear what he was reliving when he screamed Georgie’s name in his sleep. So, when he suggested we take a walk, I didn’t have to think twice before agreeing. I would’ve done just about anything to help after seeing him so distressed.
He promised it wasn’t far, but a mile in the snow in the dead of night feels longer than it would on a sunny day. But he’s holding my hand, so I’m not complaining. Well. I am a little. It’s fucking freezing. He insisted I bundle up, and though I’ll never admit it, considering how much I protested, I’m glad. I clutch Amelia Bearhart against my chest, burrowing my jaw against her to keep my face warm. She probably didn’t need to come for a walk with us, but I watched Nico packing a sleeping bag, so, on the off chance that we’re sleeping wherever we go, I couldn’t leave her.
“Do you have a gun?”
“Este. I’m not going to murder you.”
“I believe you, but what if someone else tries to murder us? No one would hear us scream.”
“There’s no one else up here, and the road is blocked. If we can’t get down, no one can get up.” Admittedly, I didn’t think of that.
