“There. Now you’ve gotten what you deserve. Go see your bitch so she can fix you up.” He kicks my head one last time for good measure, then storms out of my room as I lie there, balled up on the floor, crying until the pain turns numb enough to get up and leave.
I jolt upright in my bed, gasping for air and panting. My shirt and boxers are soaked through, as well as my covers and sheets. My skin is slick and my hair drips as if I’ve just stepped out of the shower.
When I look down at my hands, I find them twisted in the wet sheets, tear marks from where my fingers clawed at them.Great, more sheets to buy. I really need to get these nightmares under control.
I untangle my hands and pass them through my wet, wavy, dirty-blond hair that reaches my shoulders, pushing them off my sticky face. The movement makes my side ache, and I wince, pressing my hand against the rib that was once broken years ago.
This always happens after my dreams. Depending on which traumatic moment from my past resurfaces, I’ll feel the pain where the injury happened as if it were still fresh. Usually all it takes is a cold shower and a few hours in the gym to set me back on my feet.
I glance at the clock on my nightstand.Five in the morning.Not too bad.Throwing the cover over the side of the bed, I stand and rip off the shirt that’s glued to my body because of the sweat. This is why I usually sleep naked.I must have knocked out before I could finish undressing.
I pull at the sheets, removing them fully from the bed and ball them up, then throw them by the door to take down to the trash. Beside my bed, I make a second pile with my comforter, shirt, boxers, pillows, and pillowcases.
I also remove the protective waterproof fitted sheet and add it to the growing pile. I quickly learned about this beautiful invention after having changed my mattress five times in the matter of a year because I couldn’t get the sweat smell out of it.
Once my bed is completely bare, I jump into a freezing cold shower, closing my eyes as the ice water hits my back, and try to think of a way to get rid of these horrible nightmares. The truth is, I’ve tried everything. Therapy, meditation, fucking rock crystals. Nothing works.
With a heavy sigh, I wash myself and then step out. After putting on a pair of joggers and a plain shirt, I head down to the gym for a little workout. I won’t overdo it since we’re training with the team later.
Two hours later, I’ve just stepped out of my second shower, and likely not my last of the day. I grab the ripped sheets and carry them down to the kitchen, dropping them off on the counter, then head back up to grab the second pile. As I make my way back down, I find Ronnie standing by the kitchen counter, with my shredded sheets in her hands as she inspects them.
Fuck…
Her head turns my way when she hears me take the final step to the landing. “Wild night?” she asks with a raised brow.
I lean against the ramp with a cocky smile.I can work with this assumption.“I can show you just how wild it was if you’d like.”
Her features transform into a scowl. “Not even twenty-four hours,” she murmurs through her teeth.
Noah appears behind me, smacking me at the back of the head on his way down. “Ellis, quit it,” he says harshly, then strides over to Ronnie. “Good morning, Veronica. Would you like a coffee?”
“No, thank you. I had one on my way over. I’ll just get to work,” she tells him, then puts the sheets back down and walks my way, her hands reaching out for the huge pile in mine. “I’ll take those. Wash I presume, or do these all have holes as well?”
“Nope, just needs washing. But I can do it.” I hold the items closer to my chest. I know they’re still damp, and if she sees them, she’ll either assume things or have questions. Hell, I’m surprised she even dared to touch the ripped sheets.
She frowns. “You’re paying me to take care of your place. Now give me that and let me do my job.” She practically rips them from my hands.
The pile is so big, it almost blocks her entire view, where she needs to tilt her head to the side to see past it. She doesn’t say anything or make a face when her hand touches the still wet spots. All she does is turn and head for the laundry room without a word.
I head for the kitchen and open the fridge, taking items out to make breakfast. One of the three things I love in my life. My career, my friends, and cooking. It’sfucking sad when I think about it.I’m twenty-eight years old and can only name three things I love. Pathetic.
I can feel Noah’s assessing gaze on my back as I get to chopping the veggies, but I ignore it. “They’re getting worse, aren’t they?” He finally speaks up but keeps his voice low so that Ronnie won’t hear even if she’s down the hall.
Noah is the only one outside of the numerous therapists I’ve had that knows about my bedtime terrors. Well, there’s also that one chick that we paid off to keep her mouth shut. She happened to witness one of my episodes when I had knocked out in bed with them after hours of crazy sex. It’s been years now, and I’ve never heard anything about it, so I’m glad to know she kept it to herself.
“Yup.” I chop down harder on the broccoli.
“Maybe you could try seeing someone new to help,” he says after a beat.
“You think I haven’t already tried? I’ve seen the best of the best, and none work.” I drop the knife on the counter, already irritated with this conversation. “Look, I’m sorry that it interrupts your night. I’ll get a handle on it.” He never really comments on it, but I’m not an idiot. I know he must hear me through the walls during the night.
“Gabe. It’s not about me. I don’t give a fuck about the noise you make. It’s for your fucking sanity. You can’t keep going through this every other night. It’s not healthy mentally or emotionally. I’m just looking out for you, bro.”
I look down at the cutting board in front of me, both hands now fisting the edge of the counter on either side. “I know. I’ll look into a new therapist later today.”
He nods his head slowly, then raps his knuckles on the counter. “Good, you deserve a fucking night of peace after all the shit you’ve been through.” He steps away and turns his back to me, heading for the elevator. “I’m going for a run. Save me a plate.”
“You know I always do, honey!” I shout jokingly, even if it’s true.
