Bonus Epilogue #2
“Shh, sweetheart. It’s okay. I’m here. Right here.” A deep voice soothes my racing heart as I wipe sweat from my face. I look to my right to find Noah forcing a smile on his stitched face as he rubs my thigh. “It was just a nightmare.”
I shake the dark visions—which I’ve since learned are flashes of memory of the night Noah saved me back in Bora Bora—away.
It seems I can’t even nap without them appearing.
Sleep has eluded me over the past week since Bryan was shot and killed by the sheriff.
When I close my eyes, I see his sinister smile.
I hear his crazed words screeching in my head.
I remember the gruesome details of Bora Bora that Noah was right about—I wish I never recalled the reality of that night.
Noah and I are sitting on our big yellow couch, and the last thing I remember before falling asleep was watching Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince with him. “I’m sorry, Noah.”
“Quit apologizing for your nightmares.” He lets go of me so that I can adjust myself. My overalls are twisted weird from my chaotic sleep.
I eye the seven stitches underneath his eye, and a stab of anger and pain pierce through me. Why? Why me? Why us? I’ve asked God this question. I’ve asked Noah. I’ve asked my parents, who are once more fretting over me. Heck, I’ve asked the sheriff.
There were unique findings on Bryan’s body according to the coroner’s report; he had the pentagram branding with a heart in the center of it located on his chest. I guess pre-amnesia me never saw it. Lord knows I would have run.
The sheriff told me that the official statement is that Bryan had a variety of mental illnesses. He told me that everything would be taken care of and that I didn’t have to worry anymore. Bryan is no longer a threat to me. He’s dead.
My heart has a haunting ache at the thought of a man I was once involved with being dead, but I send it away and silently pray for his parents.
I reported to the police what Bryan said to me about sacrifices and One Love, which is simply a conspiracy theory about an international cultish organization running the world.
I wonder if Bryan got wrapped up in the narrative and thought he was a part of it.
There’s no proof the organization exists. It’s all a conspiracy. It’s not real.
I’m safe.
We are simply victims of a deranged lunatic.
Two deranged lunatics with matching tattoos, my mind reminds me, and I shove the small inkling that this isn’t quite over yet way down into the pits of hell. I’m not ready to accept it. I can’t.
I cuddle against Noah’s side as he loops an arm around me and tugs me close. I breathe in his vanilla, citrusy scent, which acts as a grounding pole alongside his gentle touch. “I’m sorry I doze off in the middle of the day. I’m just so tired all the time because I can’t sleep.”
“I know, sweetheart,” Noah says. He’s tired, too. I know he’s also having them, the nightmares. He wakes up next to me in cold sweats some nights. I snuggle closer.
“Will you let me in now, Noah?” I ask, placing my palm on his stomach and looking up at his bruised face.
Noah is quiet for a moment, but then he takes a deep breath and exhales.
“I don’t ever want to lose you, Esme. After everything we’ve been through…
” He trails off, a tear sliding down his cheek.
“I can’t bear the thought of losing you.
When you burst through that door last week, yelling my name and going on about Bryan trying to take you, I could have burned the town down in my rage.
When I saw him running off into the woods, I couldn’t let him get away.
The memories of Bora Bora came rushing back.
The memories of after . The nightmares, the pain, the darkness, the emptiness.
I didn’t want to lose you. Not again. I couldn’t let it happen again.
” Noah’s lips are pressed tightly as he tries not to cry.
I wrap my arms around his midsection and yank him into me, holding him with as much force as I can.
“It’s over,” I remind him. Remind myself.
Tears fall loose from his eyes as I attempt to infuse all my love into his skin and down to his bones through my hug.
“And if anyone tries to take me away from you or you away from me ever again, I will find you. I will always find you, Noah Ashley Prewitt.”
We have a ton of shared trauma to work through. We have loose ends to tie and frayed edges to burn. But as I look into the loving eyes of my husband, I know we will get through it all. Together.
I move a hand to wipe the tears from his eyes, careful to avoid his stitches. Noah nuzzles his face into my palm, closing his eyes and breathing deeply. My heart aches with the tenderness of this moment. With his vulnerability that he always says I manage to coax out of him one way or another.
Marriage, I’ve learned, is not only about romance, though Noah makes it a priority to romance me every chance he gets.
But this moment? Right here?
This is what love and marriage is truly about.
Vulnerability. Openness. Safe places to land. Unwavering trust and support.
It’s knowing you have a man in your corner to always be there. And knowing you will always be there for him. Even if it takes him a week to process and open up.
This messiness is real. It’s raw. It’s so much sweeter than fiction.
“And I will always take the blade for you, Esme Lorraine Prewitt.”
To be continued through Branda Prewitt’s POV…