Chapter Twenty-Six
Millie
“I—” I want to tell him everything. Spill my guts right here on the concrete floor and hope like hell he has some advice he can give me. I’ve never felt this unsure, this off-kilter, and it’s freaking me out.
My first session with the therapist was this morning, and though I like her, I don’t trust her. I didn’t mention anything about my dreams or the voice. I couldn’t.
I was too terrified of what she would think of me. Would she call me crazy? Say something was seriously wrong with me? Those questions kept circulating in my head, so I kept my mouth shut for fear of the unknown.
“Millie.” My name is a soft command on his lips, luring me into trusting him. And I think I do. Out of anyone, I trust Rowan the most with this. I can’t open up to my parents now because my mom is completely freaked out.
The earful she gave me after we left the doctor’s office was proof enough, and then the relief this morning when I came back from the shrink appointment? It was downright palpable. I’ve already put my parents through enough. I can’t add this to the list.
I look up at Rowan. I can already feel the moisture building behind my eyes. I swallow past the lump in my throat and start to talk.
“I think I’m hearing things that aren’t there.
Feeling things that aren’t real.” As I’m talking, I start to feel that familiar-but-not sensation at the base of my spine.
It’s like a cold rush but deep in my bones that has all the hair on my body standing on end, goosebumps spreading like rapid fire.
I concentrate on pushing the feeling away. I tell myself that it isn’t real, that I’m okay, but it does little to stop the spread of the cold feeling. I continue talking anyway, hellbent on ignoring it. “Then there are the dreams.”
Rowan’s head volleys back like he’s been punched, his back ramrod straight. Tension coats every inch of his body almost instantly.
“What kind of dreams?” His voice is still gentle and coaxing, despite the stress clearly shown on his face.
I push forward, just wanting to get it all out before I lose my courage.
“Dreams about two little girls, best friends actually. Doing all kinds of things. Most of the things are dangerous, though.” My eyebrows pull together; that’s a piece of the dreams that I’ve been thinking a lot about lately.
They all have the same theme, one that I’m sure means something; I just don’t know what.
“Dangerous how?” His eyes intently watch me, his body still rigid with tension. I feel incredibly self-conscious. What if he thinks I’m crazy? But I quickly push the thought away, which is much easier to do than that cold sensation that is still running rampant in my body.
“Like they are always getting into trouble, or more like Anna is always leading them into a dangerous situation and Lucy doesn’t want to go but follows anyway.
It’s always Anna peer-pressuring her.” Something about their relationship, about them, feels so tangible, like I could just reach out and touch them during the dream.
But I feel more connected to Lucy. I feel all of her emotions during the dreams: her affection for Anna, but also her panic and worry when Anna has a crazy idea.
“How long has this been happening?”
This is the other part that I’m sure means something, I’m just not sure what yet. “Not long after the transplant.”
His eyes widen slightly, his shoulders are still inching up towards his ears like the tension is mounting in his body.
A slow, contemplative breath leaves his lips. “Do you think they’re connected?”
He gives voice to the question that’s been swirling around in my head, causing havoc for days.
“Maybe,” I whisper, and that’s what I’m truly scared of. What happens if I have to live with this for the rest of my life? The dreams I can get used to. I feel drawn to Lucy, and there’s an instant love I feel for Anna. But the sensations? The voice? That I’m not so sure I can get used to.
“What do you mean by you’ve heard voices?”
I close my eyes. I can hear her voice so clearly. Crisp femininity, and she was terrified. “Just one. A girl and just one word, my name.”
“Millie,” he says, breathlessly.
“I know. I know. It’s crazy, right?”
“Not crazy,” he whispers. His voice sounds off, gone is the gentleness from moments before, only to be replaced with something else entirely. His own brand of terror.
“And the sensations?” he asks, hoarsely.
That one’s easy because I’m still feeling it, though it’s not as strong as it first was. “Like a cold sensation biting at my spine, a tingle at the back of my neck. It feels like someone’s standing behind me, but no one’s there.”
Trust me, I’ve checked. I catch myself looking over my shoulder, fully expecting a person to be standing behind me, and there’s never anyone. It’s the most unsettling phenomenon of the weird shit that’s been happening to me because of its frequency.
The voice I’ve just heard once. The feeling? It has become an almost daily occurrence.
“Fuck, Millie.”
His reaction has my heart pounding faster in my chest. I reach for my pulse point, hoping it will calm me. He watches as my hand goes up, his eyes narrowing as soon as my fingertips touch the sensitive spot.
“I need to tell you something.”
The serious bite to his tone has my hand dropping.
Oh no, he’s going to tell me we can’t be friends anymore, that this is too much and I really am going crazy.
I brace myself for his rejection. I close my eyes so I don’t have to see his face when he breaks the news. I don’t think my heart can take it.
“What?”
“I think we need—” he clears his throat. “I think we need to talk to Lily and Luka.”
My eyes snap open wide with shock. “What?”
“Last year, something happened. Something that involved dreams and voices too.” His eyes shutter, like he’s reliving something painful. That causes a lump to form in my throat.
“What?” I feel like a broken record, but that’s the only response I seem to be able to push through my lips.
“I will explain later, but I think they can help.” There is still an insurmountable amount of tension in his shoulders, but his eyes have softened, so much so that I start to think that he believes me.
“When?” My question is barely above a whisper.
“Let me see what they are doing tonight.” He reaches in his pocket and slips out his phone, quickly typing out a text. “Sent. Now let’s get this done so we can get out of here. Either way, I want to hang out tonight. Is that okay?”
I’m so relieved at his acceptance of the craziness that just came out of my mouth that I go weak in the knees. “I would love that.”
His smile is small but genuine. I can tell he’s still stressed and tense, but he seems to be trying to let it go. “Good. And I have a game tomorrow. I would love for you to be there.”
My smile mirrors his. “I would love that too.”
“Good.”
My smile widens. We work together quickly and efficiently to get the framing up in the room, my mind quickly quieted by the thrumming repetition of a nail biting into the wood. Rowan steals silent glances my way every few minutes.
I catch him a few times, and each time his smile grows centimeter by centimeter until it becomes a little game in my head. How big can his smile really go? I giggle to myself at the thought of his smile as wide as the Cheshire cat.
“Are you laughing at me?” he finally asks.
I chuckle, “Maybe.”
“Why?” he asks just as he shoots in the last nail.
“Because you keep looking at me.”
“Is that a crime? Maybe I think you’re pretty to look at.”
My heart slams into my chest, hammering away in my throat. The most delicious heat blooms deep in my belly. “Is that so?” I ask as nonchalantly as possible.
He just nods his head and says, “The prettiest.”
Before I have a chance to respond, Rowan’s phone dings in his pocket. He grabs it, reading off a text from Luka.
“He says they’re free, and they want to know if we can do dinner with them.”
He looks up when I don’t say anything. Dinner feels intimate, and are we going to have a chance to really talk? Whatever it is, the information seems sensitive. Maybe out in public isn’t the best place to talk, but I also have no idea what the information is. “What do you want to do?”
He doesn’t hesitate with his response. “I would like to have dinner with you, Daredevil.” The way his eyes linger on mine, a brightness in them I haven’t seen before, has my pulse picking up.
I fiddle with the tool belt still latched around my waist. “What about what we need to talk about?”
“I’ll talk to Luka. We can pick a place that's quiet.”
“Okay.”
“Okay.”
“I’ll pick you up at five.” It isn’t a question; it’s more of a demand. Warmth spreads through my core once again. That seems to be happening a lot today.
“Ah, ah, captain,” I tease.
“The boys call me Cap,” he teases right back, and I can’t help but laugh.
Rowan walks me to my car, opening the car door like a gentleman. I slide into the seat, and before I know what’s happening, he’s grabbed my seatbelt and is gliding it across my torso to click it into the lock.
I breathe in his intoxicating scent, his warmth surrounding me. All I want to do is bury my face into his chest and stay there. It’s all too soon before he’s pulling back.
His voice is heavy with what could only be described as need. “See you tonight, Millie.”
“See you,” I whisper, my own voice taking on a similar tone.
I watch as he walks to his own car and waits for me to pull off first before driving away.
It isn’t until I’m almost home that I realize tonight feels an awful lot like a double date.
And I’m not mad.