Page 100 of The Ache That Stayed

Somewhere between listening to Roxanne breathe and imagining her bare legs wrapped around me, like they should belong there and nowhere else—I drifted off.

The armchair was built for sitting. Not sleeping. Definitely not for a six-foot-five man with a body that refused to relax.

I’d shrugged off my jacket at some point, kicked off my boots, stretched out as much as the cramped thing allowed. My knees were bent awkwardly, shoulders pressed against the frame, every muscle groaning uncomfortably.

Still—I knew I’d wake up with a stiff neck. Amongst… other problems that had nothing to do with the chair.

I didn’t know how long I slept. Minutes. Maybe an hour.

A sound dragged me out of it. Soft. Broken. Close to a whimper.

My eyes snapped open instantly, narrowing and went straight to the bed.

Roxanne.

The faint light from the hallway seeped through the curtains, just enough to outline her body. Her leg had slipped out from under the blanket. Bare. Tense. She was thrashing against the sheets. Unaware, like invisible hands around her throat.

“No…” Her voice cracked. “Please…”

My body went still. Then alert. Then every instinct in me locked onto her.

She twisted again, her brows drawn tight, sweat beading across her forehead, catching the dim light.

“I’ll listen… I promise…”

A cold and violent shiver slid down my spine.

What the fuck!

I was on my feet before I even realised I’d moved.

“Roxanne.”

Nothing. I reached her in two strides, grabbing her shoulders, shaking lightly. My chest clenched. Panic hit hard enough to make my vision sharpen. I’d seen men bleed out quieter than this.

I tried to wake her, but she wouldn’t wake.

“Roxanne—wake up.”

Nothing. Her breathing was wrong. Too fast. Too shallow.

Like she was drowning inside her own body.

I sat against the headboard and pulled her onto me.

She came without resistance, like her body didn’t know the difference between here and wherever the hell she was trapped.

Like I was the only thing her body recognised.

One arm wrapped around her waist, locking her against me.

My other hand came up firmly to her neck. Grounding her, feeling her pulse hammering beneath my fingers. Too fast.

“Roxanne.”

Still nothing.

Her eyes snapped open. For a second—I thought she wasn’t seeing me. They didn’t look like hers.