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When he pulled back, I stared at him, my chest tight. “How are you here?”

“Where else would I be?”

“Caspian.”

He smiled. “What, baby?”

“You’re not supposed to be here.”

“Says who?”

I swallowed. “Everybody.”

“Since when did I give a fuck about everybody?”

I laughed because that sounded exactly like him.

He kissed me again, and this time I held on tighter, afraid that if I loosened my grip even a little, he might disappear. I didn’t want to wake up.

Not yet.

Not when he felt this real, this warm, this much like the man I remembered.

My hands moved slowly over his face, tracing the familiar line of his jaw before my thumb brushed across his cheek. Every feature was exactly the way I remembered it, only somehow sharper now that I could touch him again.

“Where have you been?”

“Here.”

I frowned. “Here?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“The whole time?”

He nodded. “Just waiting on you.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Would you have believed me?”

I stared at him. “I don’t know.”

“Exactly.”

I shook my head. “You can’t just show up in my dreams and act like everything is normal.”

He chuckled. “Who said you’re dreaming? I’m right here.”

God, I want to believe him… but nothing about this made sense.

I had spent years wondering what happened to him, and suddenly he was there, holding me like I hadn’t spent half a decade sleeping without him.

“Don’t disappear on me,” I whispered.

His expression softened. “Look at me.”

I lifted my eyes.