Chapter 29
MORNING DREAMS
Ledger
I can’t get the images out of my head. The dream—nightmare, really—keeps replaying.
I’m trying to blink off the awful reel flashing over and over.
I’m really trying, but it won’t leave my head.
With one hand pressed to the cool glass, I stare out the living room window, trying to make out the edge of the water, the height of the trees, but dawn hasn’t chased away the darkness yet.
Only a hint of soft blue light tugs at the horizon.
But the images feel like flies chasing me.
Until the soft pad of feet lands on my ears, then a gentle voice, full of concern, floats across the room. “Hey. Are you okay?”
Ah fuck.
With a heavy sigh, I barely turn to Aubrey. I don’t want her to see me like this, yet she’s seeing me like this.
I scrub a hand across the back of my neck. “I’m fine,” I mutter.
She comes up behind me but doesn’t touch. She’s careful as she asks, “Are you sure?”
“Yeah,” I say, lying. “Just couldn’t sleep.”
“Do you want to come back to bed?”
More than you could ever know.
But I don’t want to wake up sweaty, startled, and fucking haunted again. Prior to last night, I hadn’t had a nightmare in ages. Not since I was injured two years ago. Not since it took me longer than I’d have liked to get back on the ice.
“I’m good,” I say.
After an exhale, she says, “I get bad dreams too.”
I snap my gaze to her. “What do you mean?”
“I do. I have dreams about tsunamis. Earthquakes. Waves that pull me out to sea.”
“That sounds unpleasant,” I say, and that’s putting it mildly.
“Yeah. It was. I still get them, but not as often as I once did,” she says quietly, and then moves to the nearby couch and sits down. Can’t let her sit alone, so I join her. She came out here to check on me after all.
“Was there a reason you were getting them?” Maybe if I focus on her my stupid brain will let go of the remnants of my nightmares.
“Happened a lot after my father died,” she admits, then her eyes shine, but she fights off the threat of tears.
“Maybe I was processing my feelings. I’m not sure I entirely understand dreams. Or that anyone does.
But I think I felt a lot of anxiety about wanting—” She stops, and this is clearly tough for her but she pushes on.
“To be a good daughter for him even when he wasn’t around. ”
Ah, hell. My heart thumps harder for her, my throat tightening too. “I’m sure you are. He’d be proud of you.”
“I don’t know about that.”
“Hey,” I say, then tuck a finger under her chin, making her meet my gaze. “You’re kind and funny, and you care about people. And you look out for your mom, and you’re a good friend, and your clients love you.”
“How do you know?” she counters with a sassy little smile.
That’s a very good question. But I man up and tell the damn truth.
“I looked you up online,” I say. “When I saw you at Sticks and Stones late last year. I was curious about you. I’d just gotten divorced, and I’d known you so long but didn’t really know you.
So, yeah, I looked you up. Your salon. You have great reviews.
Everyone says you’re great at hair and a good listener. ”
Maybe I had ulterior motives. Hell, of course I did. She was pretty and witty and warm. But she was seeing that other guy. And she’s my agent’s little sister, so I shut the search down pretty fast after that.
“That’s nice to hear. I try,” she says, then tilts her head and runs her hand across my knee in a tender touch.
“When I had these dreams, I would try to do breathing exercises after. Or visualize something pleasant. Sometimes I would listen to music to ground myself in reality rather than the unpleasant dystopian world I felt stuck in.”
She’s hitting close to home, and it’s stupid to keep playing the tough guy.
Not after she’s opened up. I slump against the couch, drag my hands through my hair, then meet her gaze.
“I sometimes dream I can’t run. I’ll be outside jogging, but my legs won’t move.
They’re stuck on the sidewalk. And I can’t really control my body anymore.
Can’t lift my legs or move my arms. And then I feel stuck, and I yell, and nothing happens.
I can’t even make a sound,” I say, embarrassed that I’m a grown man with recurring nightmares.
“That sounds fucking stupid as I say it.”
She rubs my knee some more. “It’s not stupid, Ledger. We’re just processing things all the time. I’m no expert, but I’m pretty sure that’s what dreams are. We’re working through the day.” There’s a pause, then she adds, “Is your injury acting up?”
Was I that obvious? “Yeah,” I admit. I guess I don’t want to keep it to myself anymore. Or I don’t want to keep it from her. “But it’s just a twinge. No big deal.”
“Was it the hike?”
I shake my head adamantly. “No. Hell no. I can walk, run, skate. Work out.” I sigh. “It just hurts sometimes. That’s all. I can handle the pain.”
“Of course you can,” she says sympathetically. Then she runs her hand through my hair, her touch soothing. My heart rate calms some more. “It’s probably just because the season is starting soon.”
That has to be it. “Yeah, probably.”
“And if you ever want to get that free haircut and talk about it, you know where to find me,” she says.
After.
After this honeymoon is over.
It’s a nice offer.
But right now, I do want to return to bed with her. I stand and hold out my hand for her. “Let’s go back to bed.”
She takes it, and we return to the bedroom. She gets in, sliding to the middle, next to Dev. He stirs, blinks his eyes open, then flashes her a dopey grin. “Hey,” he mumbles, then closes his eyes, slinging an arm around her when she settles back in.
She’s facing me and when he falls back into slumber a few seconds later, she glances down at his arm wrapped around her, then whispers to me, “He’s cuddly.”
Yeah, I know my buddy. And he really, really likes her.
I don’t say that. I just smile, feeling a little better than I did ten minutes ago.