30. Chapter 30
Chapter 30
Faith One Year Later
D espite knowing Ryan is in prison for a laundry list of charges that have him locked away for the next twenty-five years, there are times, especially around the anniversary of the day he almost killed Derek and I, that I wake up from a dead sleep with the burning instinct to run like hell from a danger I can no longer see.
Panic floods my whole body, locking me in such a state that no matter how hard I try, I can't escape him in my mind. I'm held captive in the prison of yet another nightmare, but this time, there's no one by my side to help me run from Ryan. Instead, I face him alone in a darkened street, illuminated by one golden glow of a dim lamp post that lets me see just a fraction of Ryan's face, which I know is contorted in anger.
With every step I take backward, he closes in with another. With every stride, he becomes clearer, his eyes darker than before, his hands clenched into fists at his side, just waiting for me to run.
"Get away from me!" I scream in panic, which only makes a sinister grin tickle his lips.
"When will you finally get it through your stupid head, Faith?" he chuckles. "You'll never get rid of me."
His pace starts to pick up, and his stature looks taller, broader, and more menacing than ever.
"I said stay away. I don't love you, and I don't want you!" I try to scream, but the words are hardly a whisper.
This makes him snap. His brisk pace is no longer just a walk but a full-on sprint that sends me running as fast as I possibly can. Like my attempt at a scream, my running is slower than I want it to be. I pump my legs as hard as possible, the survival instinct in me screaming at me to get away, but somehow, I feel like my body is tied down to an anchor that keeps me at a snail's pace, just slow enough to feel Ryan's heavy arms slam down on my shoulders just before something else wakes me, and brings me out of my own mental hell.
"I'm here," Derek says when his arms wrap around me, catching me in reality. "It's just me, I'm right here."
His whispered words brush across my neck, the warmth of his chest pressed against my naked back, my touchstone for remembering that I'm not locked in the nightmare. I'm in his house, in his bed, in his arms.
"I'm sorry," I whisper, which only makes him hold me tighter.
"Don't you dare," he grumbles into my neck. "It gives me the best excuse."
"For what?" I ask, turning my head just enough to see a sleepy grin tug at his lips. His eyes flutter open, and there's nothing but desire in them.
"To do this," he says, pressing his lips to mine slowly, then all at once, drowning in the taste of him.
"So, you're okay with me waking you up at," I crane my neck to find the time on his alarm clock. "Three in the morning?"
"You could wake me up a million times, and I'd still hold you the same way," he says.
"Well, you'll have the sleep schedule down for when you have kids," I joke.
"Good, because I want two of them," he says in all seriousness.
"Wait, really?" I ask, seeing the serious expression match his words. "I didn't know you were a family man."
"Yup, I'm not just a pretty face," he hums. "Try to go back to sleep, okay? I'll still be here when you wake up."
"Promise?"
"Promise," he yawns, and he nods off before I do.
But I have a different reason for not sleeping. I was never one of those women who pictured having kids one day, but now that I know Derek wants at least one, I can't stop picturing it in my head.
What surprises me even more is that it's not an anxious thought but one that lets me drift off to a blissful sleep, dreaming of a future that could be.
***
"Go get her," I hear a whisper from somewhere, but my eyes are still heavy with sleep. I bury my face into the pillow until I feel a slight bit of movement crawling up Derek's side of the bed.
"Mama," a little voice says as tiny hands shake my shoulder. "She's not getting up."
"I told you," Derek's voice says. "You have to give her kisses, then she'll wake up."
An excited burst of kisses startles me as my whole face is attacked with affection until I'm giggling with a joy my heart has never known.
When I open my eyes, the most precious little boy, no older than four, tackles me for cuddles while Derek stands in the doorway in his pajamas, holding a little girl, our little girl, in his arms, her hair in a bouncy mess of curls while her little hands hold onto a bottle of milk.
"Told you so," Derek grins.
"Mama, Daddy's going to make pancakes!" our little boy says with excited eyes. "And he's going to put extra chocolate chips in mine."
"He is? But what about coffee?" I ask.
"Brewing as we speak," Derek says. "I told them I couldn't get breakfast going without you."
"Then let's go then," I say as I start to sit up.
"Wait," our little boy says before he tackles me again, showering me with even more kisses than before.
I would have sworn it was real, but Derek was behind it all. I wake up to find him gently kissing my forehead, cheeks, and finally, my lips, pulling me back to reality from my dream.
"Well, good morning," I whisper, my heart swelling as I take in the sight of him—my handsome man, looking effortlessly perfect even as he wakes up. His sleepy eyes meet mine, and I can't help but smile, but there's a lingering ache inside me, a feeling that something or someone is missing. As much as I want to savor this moment with him, a part of me feels incomplete like a piece of our world isn't quite in place.
"Where are the ki—" I start but stop myself.
"The what?" he asks.
Just a dream, Faith. Don't scare the man.
"Never mind," I wave off.
"I've got the coffee going. Would you like some?"
"Is that a real question - there's always time for coffee?"
We both head downstairs, where he's not only got coffee brewing but has also started collecting ingredients for breakfast.
"I was thinking about making pancakes," he says as he puts my coffee together and passes across the kitchen island to me, where I'm sure my face screams de ja vu.
"Uh, everything okay?" he asks.
"Yeah, I think I just had weird dreams last night or something," I take a long, hot sip. "This is perfect, by the way."
As much as I try playing off the questions that are running circles in my head, I can't help but imagine a couple of munchkins running around, excited for pancakes on a Saturday morning. The image of Derek holding a sleepy little girl was nothing short of precious, not to mention a little boy waking me up with kisses like his dad. But it's all just a dream. Why would I think I could have that one day?
The conversation is very light when Derek and I finally sit down to eat together. I can tell he knows something's up, but he waits until I start cleaning to say something.
"You've been looking at me like you've got something on your mind the second you sat down," he says as I start washing off dishes.
"No, I haven't," I object, but even I hear the words come out too quickly.
"I know I don't say this often," he says, coming up behind me and resting his hands over my hips. He whispers in my ear, "Spit it out, Faith."
I can't help but grin at his innuendo, and neither can he before he steps aside and helps me with the dishes. But even with a joke to break the ice, I know he's not going to let this go quickly.
"Okay, I have a question for you," I say once the dishwasher is started. "What does a happy life look like for you?"
"It's pretty simple, honestly," he says, pouring another cup of coffee to each of us. "Beautiful wife, a couple of kids to come home to, family dinners, matching pajamas on holiday cards."
"Wait, you actually want kids? That was true?"
"Didn't you hear me last night?" he asks.
"I thought you were half asleep when you said it," I reply.
"Nope, I was wide awake," he insists, but he can see the unbelieving look on my face. "I had a naked woman in my arms. Why would I be asleep?" he grins, and I can't help but laugh at how ridiculous it all sounds.
"Good point," I giggle.
"What about you?" He comes up behind me and puts his hands on my hips as I sip my coffee. "What does a happy life look like for you?"
"Well, it's not that far off of yours," I admit. "I wouldn't mind one or two kids, but no more than that. I don't like the idea of being outnumbered."
"Oh, I'm sure it's not that bad," he says.
"Let's hope we don't find out," I chuckle. "I'd definitely like the matching family pajamas, though."
"Oh, really?" he grins, his eyes lighting up. "I'd want you to have a ring first."
"Yeah? So now you want to be traditional? "We both start to laugh in unison. "I wouldn't be opposed to that, though," I say, a smile spreading across my face as I imagine us, hand in hand, exchanging our vows, with a photo of Chelsea tucked into my bouquet.
"Good to know," he replies, his grin widening.