Chapter 10 Mandie
Chapter ten
Mandie
The sound of his breathing filled the room—ragged, wet, desperate. That told me everything I needed to know.
Matt was tangled in the sheets, his massive Viking frame twisted like he was fighting an invisible leviathan.
The muscles in his back were coiled steel, shoulders jerking with each sharp inhale.
Sweat slicked his skin, catching the dim light, making the scars on his arms stand out like ancient battle maps.
The air smelled of pine and gun oil. His muttering was guttural, broken. Words didn’t make sense, just the raw sound of someone drowning. Pit. Get out of the truck. Not again.
I didn’t hesitate.
The bed dipped under my weight as I slid in beside him. The sheets were cool against my bare legs. He didn’t wake. His body was a furnace, heat radiating in waves, but his skin was clammy under my palm when I pressed it to his shoulder.
"Matt," I said, low and steady. My other hand found his hair, fingers combing through the damp strands at his temple. "Hey. You’re here. You’re safe."
He sucked in a sharp breath. A shudder ran through him, violent enough to rattle the bed frame.
I shifted closer, thigh brushing his, and wrapped an arm around his heaving chest. His heart was a drumline against my ribs, and I felt the moment his muscles locked up, the instant before he lashed out in instinct.
I tightened my grip, anchoring him.
"It’s me," I murmured, lips near his ear. "It’s Mandie. You’re at the Keystone. No pits. No trucks. Just this shitty bed and my terrible bedside manner."
A choked sound escaped him. His fingers dug into the sheets, knuckles white. Then, slowly, the tension bled out. His exhale was shaky, long, like he’d been holding it for years.
His eyelids fluttered open. Those absurdly blue eyes found mine in the dark, glassy, bloodshot, but sharp with focus now. Confusion flickered, then relief.
"What the hell are you doing in here?" His voice was rough, scraped raw by the screams.
I didn’t let go. "You were having night terrors again. Screaming loud enough to wake the dead." I tilted my head toward the empty chair in the corner where Doc usually sat.
Matt’s gaze darted to the chair, then back to me. His throat worked. "Where's Doc?"
"Mission," I said softly. "It is just me with Johnny and Donovan."
He let out a harsh, dry laugh. "Those two idiots."
I smiled, dragging my thumb along the ridge of his collarbone, feeling the pulse jump under my touch. "At least you got us. Better than nothing, right?"
He swallowed hard, Adam’s apple bobbing.
His eyes dropped to where my hand rested against his skin, then back up to my face.
The silence stretched, thick with a tension that made my tattoos itch.
I could see the gears turning behind his eyes, trying to slot this intimacy into a category that made sense.
"You okay?" I asked.
His jaw clenched. For a second, I thought he’d shut me out. But then his breath shuddered out, and he nodded. "Yeah. Just…" His fingers flexed against the sheet. "Same nightmare. Same shit."
I waited.
He exhaled through his nose, a sound like a bull preparing to charge.
"PTSD. Two times in my life, I fell into a fucking pit.
First was in the Marines. Transporting a convoy in Iraq.
The bridge never failed us before. But it did that time.
Three buddies and myself fell. Somehow, I survived. They didn't."
"That must have been frightening."
"It sure was. The worst part was losing them. I still see their faces."
"And that happened to you twice?"
"The second time was back here in the States. Arizona. I was working as a truck driver. A sinkhole caved in, sucked me and my truck up."
"Jesus."
"That is the normal part," he muttered. "The truck didn't make it. I survived, again, this time falling nearly forty feet. When I looked around, it was like I was in a cave covered in sapphire. Glowing blue rocks everywhere. I had never seen anything like it."
"Really? Sapphire?"
"Something like it. Only harder. There was also this giant tableau, twenty feet high. Covered in writing I couldn't understand. Then the thing started to glow. And I could hear it singing. It was singing to me."
"What was it saying?"
"No language I’ve ever heard. I passed out. Next thing I know, I wake up in the cave, the sapphire is gone, and a helicopter is pulling me out of the pit."
"So that is how you got your powers."
He nodded. "Found out later I could turn into this… blue monster on command. Grow two extra arms, get three feet taller, sapphire rock on my back. Makes a great shield."
"I'm sure. My friends and I thought you were an alien from outer space." I couldn't help but laugh.
He smirked at that. "No alien. Just a really powerful man when I need to be. The problem is, if I turn into him for more than a few hours, I lose a lot of energy. I need to sleep for almost twenty-four hours just to get back to normal."
"I'm sure the night terrors don't help with that."
His voice dropped, losing the smirk. "The night terrors… they’re always about that. The fall. The dark. The not knowing if I’m gonna hit bottom or just keep dropping forever."
My chest ached. I curled my fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck. "Has Doc been helpful?"
"Hell, I don't know what I would do without him. The way he breaks it down, rationalizes things. It talks me off the ledge. But he can't be here with me all day and night. Bad enough that my power is turning into this monster."
My thumb traced the shell of his ear. "I don’t think you’re a monster."
His eyes closed. A muscle feathered in his jaw. "You don’t know that."
"I know your friends are worried about you. Whenever they come back from a mission, they ask 'How is Matt?' like you are the first thing on their mind."
"I am holding back the team. I can hardly do a mission these days."
"You are not holding them back. They are helping you get strong enough to be the hero you know you can be. This Capital Punishment guy is serious. They are going to need you to defeat him."
His hand came up, fast as a striking snake, and caught my wrist. Not hard. Just holding on, like I was the only solid thing in the room. His callouses were rough against my skin. "Why do you care?"
"Because," I said, voice steady, "I do. And that is all that matters."
Outside, a cleaning bot whirred past the door. Matt’s thumb brushed over my knuckles, back and forth, memorizing the shape of them.
"They don’t go away," he said quietly. "The dreams. No matter how many times I tell myself it’s over. No matter how many times I wake up here, safe." A pause. "Sometimes I think… maybe I deserve them."
"Bullshit," I said sharply.
His eyes snapped to mine.
"You don’t get to martyr yourself, Spencer. Not with me."
The corner of his mouth twitched. A ghost of a smile. "You're always this bossy?"
"Only when people are being idiots." I squeezed his hand. "You’re not defined by the worst things that happened to you. You’re defined by what you do after."
He studied me for a long moment, gaze tracing my face. "You're good at this," he finally said.
"At what?"
"Making it sound simple." His thumb pressed into the dip of my wrist, right over my pulse. "Making me believe it, even when I don’t."
"Maybe you just needed someone to say it out loud."
His eyes darkened. "Maybe. Can I ask you a favor?"
"Anything."
"Can you stay with me until I fall asleep?"
"I’m not going anywhere. Not unless you tell me to."
His breath shuddered out. When he opened his eyes again, they were bright with something fierce and fragile. "Stay," he said, like it was the hardest word he’d ever spoken.
I didn’t answer with words. I just pulled him back down, fingers tangling in his hair, and let my body say what my mouth couldn’t.