Page 68 of The Temporary Bride

Her grip tightens around me in her sleep, her sobs muffled against my chest as tears stream down her cheeks. I hold her close, my jaw tight and my hand moving rhythmically to stroke her hair, feeling her body shudder against mine.

“What—I—” Suddenly, Chloe jerks awake, her breath coming in heavy, uneven gasps.

She blinks rapidly, her eyes darting around as if trying to make sense of her surroundings. I feel something shift in her body, her fingers digging into the muscles of my back as she realizes where she is, and the tears continue to fall as she clings to me, her sobs quieter but even more heartbreaking now that she’s awake.

I keep holding her, whispering soft words of reassurance as I stroke her back soothingly.

“It’s okay,” I murmur. “I’ve got you. You’re safe with me.”

I breathe with her, slow inhales and exhales, letting her match my pace until the hiccupping sobs finally stop. But as she calms down, a new kind of tension seems to fill her body. Pressing on my chest, she extricates herself from my arms, avoiding my gaze.

“What happened?” I ask, my voice low in the darkness. “What was it?”

She doesn’t respond immediately, her breathing still ragged from the remnants of her nightmare. I reach out a hand, but she shakes her head, scooting back over to her side of the bed.

“I’m…” She makes a vague gesture, wiping uselessly at her eyes. “I’m fine.”

“Chloe.” I lean a little closer, trying to see her face. “Are you sure? You were really upset.”

“It was nothing. I’m fine,” she repeats, although it’s fucking obvious that she’s not.

She settles onto the mattress, lying down with her back to me.

It’s a hell of a thing to feel someone close off like that in real time. I’m certain it wasn’t nothing, but pushing right now would probably make it all worse, so I lie back down and stare at the ceiling as I listen to her breathing, which is still slightly uneven but slowing.

I sleep like shit for the rest of the night. Every time she shifts or makes a sound, I’m awake and listening, and by the time morning light starts coming in through the window, I’ve probably gotten another hour in total.

She must slip out while I’m dozing a little after dawn, exhaustion finally claiming me, because when I wake up properly, her side of the bed is empty.

I pull on sweats and head downstairs, and she’s in the kitchen already dressed, one shoe on as she fights with the other one. She’s trying to slide the heel on while keeping her weight off her injured ankle, swearing under her breath, and she doesn’t hear me come in until I’m almost at the bottom of the stairs.

She looks up, cutting herself off mid-curse. “Oh. Morning. I was just heading out.”

“How’s the ankle?” I ask, studying her.

“Much better.” She sets her foot down carefully with her shoe now on. “Almost back to normal.”

She picks up her purse and adjusts it on her shoulder. Everything about her is clipped and polished and closed up tight, but I know her well enough to know that it’s just a mask. Seeing her work so hard to hide her feelings from me, especially after last night, after the way she clung to me in the dark, makes something tighten in my chest like a vise.

“The nightmare you had,” I say, ducking my chin to catch her gaze. “What was it about?”

She shakes her head vaguely, not meeting my eyes. “Just a bad dream, I guess. I feel silly about it now, I don’t even remember what it was.”

She’s lying. I know it. Something passed across her face when I asked, there and then gone, but I caught it. She remembers everything, she just doesn’t want to tell me.

I hate that, but I don’t know what to do about it, and she’s already most of the way out the door.

“I’ll see you tonight.” She throws the words over her shoulder before leaving in a rush.

I shift my weight as I stare after her, the floor cool beneath my feet as the house goes quiet.

Yesterday felt like progress. Real progress, the kind that doesn’t happen by accident. And now she’s gone, and whatever we built yesterday is locked behind that mask she puts on, and I have no idea what scared her badly enough to undo all of it in the middle of the night.

I blow out a breath, scrubbing a hand down my face. “Fuck.”

Chapter 23

Tristan