24. CALLUM
24
CALLUM
“ No. No. No! ”
I jolt awake at the sound of screaming. Chloe’s raspy voice is piercing, cutting through the walls that separate us.
She screams again.
Jumping out of my bed, I don’t even care that I only have briefs on when I rush to her room. Throwing open my door, opening hers faster.
Tucker is curled up next to her, a paw safely on her as if. . . as if this happens and he’s used to it.
She screams out again. Her body convulsing, thrashing as if she’s trying to get away. “ Get off me. I can’t leave. I can’t leave him. ”
Tucker senses my presence. Big, human-like eyes beating into mine. Jumping from the bed, he nudges my thigh, pushing me to her. The bed dips under my weight, shifting as I crawl to her. A soft glow from the moon is coming through her opened window, spotlighting the sweat coating her face.
I try to wake her, shaking her shoulder but nothing happens.
Her body calms for a moment, then shakes again. Her skin is freezing as if she’s outside in the dead of winter.
“Chloe,” I say quietly. Nothing. “Chloe.” Nothing.
I lay on my side, dragging her into my chest, wrapping my arms around her. “Dais, wake up,” I say loudly and sternly. Her shaking subsides.
The softest whimper comes from her chattering lips .
Watching her jerky movements and breathing subside, I fear that whatever this nightmare is, it's something she lived through. Her movements are muscle memory.
I squeeze her.
Chloe’s breathing evens out, and her heart rate decreases.
Fluttering, her eyes open. “Aaron?”
“No, he’s not here. It’s Cal.”
“Cal?” the rasp in her voice I’ve come to crave is weak. “Is that you?”
“It’s me.” I rub my hand down her jaw. “I’ve got you.”
“Oh.” She takes in a shaky inhale. “Was I dreaming?”
“You were.”
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Chloe starts repeating an apology to me. She leans her head into my shoulder, clinging to my touch.
“You don’t need to apologize to me.”
Her eyes bolt open. It’s almost as if she forgot where she is and who I am for a minute.
Her breathing picks back up. I drop an arm from around her and stroke my thumb across her cheek, clearing a tear. The clammy skin of her palms finds my chest.
My bare chest.
This is the first time she’s ever touched me like this. I hate the situation we're in, seeing her this way, but I can’t neglect how good it feels to have her hands on me. To have had her in my arms, even if it was only a minute.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“I-I-h-he. . .” Chloe stutters, with no words or sentences forming. “No.”
“Okay. If you change your mind—”
“You’re good at listening, I know.”
I sit up in her bed, never letting my eyes leave hers. They are the softest I’ve ever seen them—color and stare. They are pools of water on the pavement after it rains, and I swear I could see my reflection in them. Swirls of pain and anger and grief take over as she blinks.
“Do you want to change? Your shirt is soaked with sweat and you’re shivering.”
Chloe nods, and I move to help her before she can get out of bed. Pulling back the covers and offering her a hand. She accepts it, this soft side of her slowly becoming one of my favorites, as we walk to her dresser.
A shirt hangs half out of the drawer. Chloe coughs gently as her fingers curl around the hem of her current attire.
“Stop watching me.”
I hadn’t realized my focus was still on her—heavy, heated eyes tracking every movement.
“I’ve seen you naked before,” I remind her.
“It’s different now. We’re roommates.”
Would I go back to not being roommates if it meant getting to see her naked?
Maybe. Probably not. Even in the three weeks Chloe’s been here, I’ve become quite drawn to her presence. The little mundane parts. The noise from her music, TV shows, or full-blown conversations with Tucker. Even her messiness.
Respecting her wishes, I turn around and walk into the ensuite bathroom. Dampening a washcloth, I return to the room and sit beside her on the bed.
Chloe tries to take the cloth from me.
“Let me.”
Her shoulders bob, but she relaxes into the bed, letting me wipe the rag across her glistening skin.
“Thank you,” she whispers.
“You’re welcome.” I stand, hanging the cloth on a hook in the bathroom.
Chloe crawls under the covers as I head to the door. Doing a second check, then a third that she’s okay, I stop when she speaks, “Will you stay with me tonight? ”
My spine tingles, my heart skips a beat.
I wanted to stay. If she hadn’t asked, I would have left our doors open and found a way to return and ensure she didn’t have another nightmare.
Grateful for the offer, I seize the opportunity silently. Climbing into the bed on the left side.
She watches with the softest of smiles. Her eyes not as heavy as before. I mirror her smile. Chloe turns over, her back toward me.
Then wiggles until we’re touching. She fits perfectly against me—knew she would.
“ Promise you won’t leave .”
Those words loom in the air.
Wasn’t it only a couple of weeks ago she told me not to make promises I can’t keep? The weight of her request presses against the confines of this room as my heart tries to leap from my chest.
It doesn’t matter, though, because I don’t know if I ever want to leave this girl.
“I’m not going anywhere. I’ve got you, Dais, I promise.”
I hold her, watching as she drifts back to sleep. Laying there for hours, I keep her in my arms. A strand of her hair between my fingers, I play with it as she sleeps.
Tucker sleeps at the foot of the bed, his head resting on her feet.
I have no clue what the bloody hell that was, but I realize tonight there is more to Chloe than anyone knows.
***
Ileft Chloe’s bed this morning around five, after hours of watching her sleep. It’s probably creepy that I couldn’t take my eyes off her—even if I tried, I couldn’t. I can’t keep my eyes off her whenever she’s awake and around, but this time, it wasn’t because she’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.
This was protective—a need to do anything I can to help her.
Gently slipping my arms out from under her, I climb out of the bed.
“Stay,” I whisper to Tucker, and I swear he nods. He crawls up the bed, taking my spot.
I’m wired, my mind racing, fixating on her. Finding myself in my home office, I call Liam.
“Up early.” With daylight savings, London is now six hours ahead.
“Couldn’t sleep.”
“Everything alright, mate?” he asks me.
“I. . . yeah. . . has Emerson ever mentioned Chloe getting nightmares?”
“No, she hasn’t.” I can hear him pondering, fingers tapping against a surface. “Do you want me to ask?”
“No,” I say quickly. There’s no need to worry her best friend when she might not want her to know.
“Did something happen?”
I give Liam a quick retelling of what happened last night, leaving out the part of her asking for Aaron and cradling her to sleep.
“Have you spoken to her this morning?”
“She’s not up yet. Chloe usually gets up by seven.” I have a few more hours before she’s awake. But it’s Monday, and she always leaves our place early on Monday mornings. “I don’t think I will.”
“Why not?”
Why am I not asking?
If Chloe wants to tell me, she will.
Maybe I’m slightly scared to know. There’s nothing she could say that would scare me from her. It’ll probably only make me want to be here with her more, even though I’m due to be back in London soon.
Or what if she tells me and I don’t know how to handle it? What if I let her down?
“She’ll tell me if she wants to.”
“She’s living with you. ”
“And?” I drop my phone on the desk, tapping speaker phone. “Never mind that I asked you.”
“Callum. If she’s having nightmares that require you to wake her, that’s something you should talk to her about.”
“This is the first time.” At least that I’ve seen. Who knows how long she’s been having dreams like this. The shaking, sweating, and rapid heart rate reminded me of a panic attack.
Can people have those while sleeping?
“It’s probably not.” He pauses. Takes a drink of something. “After my mom died and the injury, I used to have bad dreams. My mind was stuck, replaying those moments. Some nights they were manipulated, replacing Mom or me with others I loved. I saw you, George. . . Emerson, instead.”
“You never told us.” Replaying back the year we lived together after school, all of our holidays, or here in Chicago, I feel guilty that I never knew he was going through this. Was I a bad friend? “We never heard them when we lived together.”
“What did you want me to do? Tell you to your face that I had a dream about you dying. I couldn’t and wouldn’t ever do that. I told my therapist and, eventually, Emerson. Talking about it helped.”
“How often were you having them?”
“It wasn’t every day if that’s what you are worried about with her. When something reminds me of my mom or the day I decided to quit, it triggers a reaction.”
“Was it only while you slept?”
“No.”
“Do you think something triggered her? Something I did?”
“I can’t answer that. I can only speak from my experience and hope it helps you understand.”
“Yeah.” I run a hand through my sandy hair. “I’m sorry that happened. Do they still happen? ”
“I appreciate that, Cal. And no, they don’t. Talking helped,” he emphasizes the point. “If you decide to talk to Chloe, you can tell her about me. I’m here for her, too.”
“Yeah, okay.”
His tone shifts. “You care about her?”
“No. . . yes,” I change my answer because I do care about her. “She’s Emerson’s friend.”
“It’s okay if you do for other reasons.”
“Thank you for your blessing. Didn’t realize I needed it.”
“You’re welcome,” he says with a hint of asshole. “But come on, do you like Chloe?”
“Have you reviewed the offer for the hotel in Monaco?” I swiftly change the subject.
Liam ignores my lack of response. “I have. Any thoughts?”
“We can get it for a better price. They are asking for too much money. The current property is not worth that much. We should reevaluate the specs on the structure and where it is located. If we were a half-kilometer closer to the Mediterranean Sea, I would say maybe for that price.”
“I agree. What would you counter?”
We bicker back and forth about a new price to offer on a hotel in Monaco. It’s comforting knowing he wants and seeks out my opinion. I’ve never worked for anyone else, but I’ve heard horror stories of employees' voices quieted by ego at the top.
Liam has never been like that, nor do I think he ever will be.
We stay on the line, working and catching up. When I hear footsteps in the other room, I hop off the phone, hoping to catch Chloe in the kitchen.
She’s swiftly moving around the kitchen feeding Tucker, showered, and dressed for work. Acting as if nothing happened. I wonder if she’ll bring it up. Or remembers at all.
After talking with Liam, I know he suggested talking to her, but I still don’t know what’s best. I don’t want to force her to talk if she doesn’t want to. Or maybe she does and is waiting on me? I want to do what’s right, be what she needs.
I peer over my cup of tea that desperately needs reheating.
“Heading to get coffee with Emerson.”
“Is she in town?” I ask, confused. Liam didn’t mention that on the phone.
“London. We’ve been FaceTiming on Monday mornings since she left.”
“Want a tag along?”
“No.” Her nose scrunches.
“Okay.”
“I’ll see you later.” Her pillowy pink lips smack, bag swinging off her shoulder as she leaves with nothing of last night said.