CHAPTER twenty-five
I Can’t Trust My Dreams
Cheyenne, Wyoming
After the show in Cheyenne, we decided to get a hotel so everyone can have a little more space for the night. We’ve got several days until our next show in Salt Lake City.
We got three rooms. Cody, Grady and Elias sharing one, Jasper and Sasha in the other, leaving me in my own.
When the others are distracted I lean into Elias and whisper, “If you can slip away later without anyone noticing… my door will be open. Room 220.”
His response made me bite my lip, “You’re going to get me in trouble, Flowers.”
I’m just about to settle into bed when I hear a soft knock. I swing my legs off, tiptoe over to the door and peer out of the peephole.
Elias stands alone in the dim hallway, one hand gripping a small duffle bag, his gaze cast down like he’s trying to look casual but failing miserably. He shifts his weight. He looks… almost shy.
I can’t stop the slow smile pulling at my lips as I crack the door open just enough to see him. His head lifts; our eyes meet. His expression softens instantly and there’s a hint of something vulnerable there, like he half expects me to say I’ve changed my mind.
“Hey, insomniac,” I tease, voice low so it doesn’t carry.
“Hi,” he says, biting back a smile that makes heat unfurl low in my belly.
I step back. He slips inside, quiet as a shadow. The moment the door clicks shut behind him, he spins me, pressing my back against the door. His bag thuds onto the carpet. He braces one forearm above my head and leans in and kisses me.
Soft, slow, gentle—like he missed me in the two hours we weren’t side by side. His free hand cups my jaw, thumb brushing my cheekbone, and I melt into him.
When we finally pull back, foreheads nearly touching, I whisper, “Do you think the guys will notice you’re gone?”
He lets out a soft huff of a laugh.
“No chance. Grady and Cody both sleep like the dead. I’ll sneak back in tomorrow morning and just say I was at the gym.”
His fingers grip my hips, tugging me closer.
“I’m going to take a shower. Get comfortable,” he whispers against my lips.
He grabs one of the books on my nightstand and hands it to me, a subtle smirk tugging at his lips when I take it with a grin.
I watch him move across the room, peeling his shirt off as he disappears into the bathroom.
The door shuts with a soft click, and a second later, I hear the hiss of water turning on.
The scent of hotel soap and clean linens fills the room, the patter of water against tile soothing in its rhythm. I try to focus on the chapter, but my eyes keep drifting toward the closed door and the man behind it. The one who somehow feels like both a wildfire and a sanctuary.
The bathroom door creaks open minutes later, and I glance up.
Elias steps out, towel slung around his shoulders, hair damp and curling at the ends.
His skin glistens, steam still clinging to him like a second skin.
He’s wearing nothing but loose, dark shorts that hang low on his hips.
The tattoos along his ribs and shoulders stretch with every movement, illuminated under the yellow glow of the bedside lamp.
He rubs a hand through his hair, then catches my eye and smirks when he sees the way I’m staring.
“Enjoying the view?” he asks, voice raspy.
I don’t even try to hide my smile. “Maybe.”
He crosses the room in a few slow strides, the air shifting as he closes the distance.
He climbs onto the bed beside me, then leans back against the headboard, pulling me gently into the space between his arm and chest. I melt against him, folding into the curve of his body like I was always meant to be there.
He reaches for the book, fingers brushing mine as he gently pulls it between us. Turning it over in his hands, he studies the cover like he’s trying to decipher some hidden meaning behind the illustration.
“What’s this one about?” he asks, curiosity in his tone.
I take it back with a flourish and lift a brow, voice playful. “This, my dear Elias, is what we call romantasy,” I say, drawing the word out like it holds secret power.
He lets out a low chuckle.
“Ah, so this is the stuff you’ve got Cody hooked on.”
I lightly smack his chest.
“Don’t knock it ’til you experience the magic,” I say as I open to the bookmarked page and shift into the cradle of his body. I nestle against him, fitting easily into the curve of his frame.
As I begin to read aloud, his fingers trace soft patterns along my arm, lazy spirals that lull me deeper into the moment.
“I saw the moon illuminating her silhouette, bathing her in a ghostly glow that turned her skin to starlight. In 500 years of wandering, I had never seen such beauty. She turned to me, her sapphire eyes searing into mine—brighter than flame, colder than fate. She was not merely a woman; she was the echo of destiny I had chased through lifetimes.”
By the time I reach the last line, his touch has stilled.
I glance up, and there he is, fast asleep.
The harsh lines that usually frame his face have melted away, leaving something softer in their place.
His lashes rest against his cheekbones, and his mouth is parted just slightly, lips relaxed in a rare expression of peace.
I can’t help but stare for several moments, basking in the calmness.
I smile to myself, close the book quietly, and set it on the nightstand. I shift only enough to settle more fully into him, careful not to disturb his rest. With the sound of his breathing and the story still spinning in my head, I let the gentle hush of the room carry me into sleep too.
A sound splits through the quiet like a blade through glass. It’s raw, guttural, inhuman.
I jolt upright, heart slamming against my ribs as I whip my head toward the source.
Elias is thrashing beside me, locked in some invisible war.
His body is taut, drenched in sweat, fists clenched at his sides.
His face contorts in agony, eyes screwed shut, mouth wide in a scream that doesn’t seem to end.
“Elias!” I gasp, straddling him. “Elias, wake up!”
My hands fly to his face, trying to pull him from the nightmare—my thumbs brushing away hot, fast tears leaking from the corners of his eyes. He doesn’t respond, lost in the terror. He flinches beneath me, muscles seizing like a live wire as I try again, louder this time, desperate.
“Elias! It’s just a dream! You’re safe, I’m here—”
His eyes snap open like a trap springing loose, wild and unfocused. And then, through instinct and panic, he shoves me hard, and I hit the floor with a jarring thud.
For a beat, I can’t breathe. The room is spinning. Then his silhouette is suddenly in front of me, hands trembling as they land on my arms.
“Ramona…shit. Did I hurt you?” His voice cracks, thick with horror.
I wince as I sit up, but shake my head quickly.
“No. Just startled. I’m okay. Are you?”
His chest rises in ragged waves. He’s pale, pupils blown wide, a man pulled from the depths of something terrible. My palms cradle his face again, thumbs brushing beneath his eyes, and this time, he doesn’t flinch—he just stares at me, wrecked.
He pulls away abruptly, stumbling to his feet, fingers digging into his scalp as he starts pacing.
“Elias—hey, it’s okay, I’m okay,” I whisper gently, standing. “You’re safe now. It’s just us. You’re not there anymore.”
But my words bounce off him like water off glass.
“No,” he growls. “It’s not okay. I could’ve seriously hurt you. I didn’t even know where I was—I just—”
“You didn’t hurt me,” I say softly. “I know it wasn’t intentional. You were scared. I get it.”
He doesn’t look at me. His shoulders are rigid, jaw locked so tightly it looks like it might shatter.
I don’t push him. I just wait.
After a long silence, he lowers himself onto the edge of the bed, burying his face in his hands.
“It’s okay,” I say.
He stays frozen except for his trembling hands.
The time stretches slowly, the tension spiking to an almost unbearable point.
“Hey, talk to me.”
A few more heartbeats pass before he snaps.
“I’m fucked up, Ramona. Is that what you want to hear?” His sharp words cut through the room. I can’t help my flinch, but I can see his instant remorse.
When he speaks again, it is quieter, jagged like something rusted.
“I have trauma. Real, unshakable shit,” Elias says, trembling with restrained anguish. I ease down beside him, the mattress shifting beneath our weight, and gently rest my hand on his thigh. My fingers twitch slightly, betraying the anxious hum beneath my skin.
“Every day, I see their faces…”
He takes a long pause.
“…my mom, my brother, burning. I can smell the smoke. I can feel my skin boiling. Hear them screaming. I see my father’s wild eyes, black as coal, as he drenched the floors in lighter fluid like it was holy water.
That night lives behind my eyelids, under my skin.
That’s why I don’t sleep. Because when I do, it drags me back there without permission.
” His arms are cinched across his chest, like he’s physically trying to keep himself from splintering apart.
“That’s why I stayed high for so long. The reason I drank myself into blackouts every night. It’s the reason that I’m covered in these tattoos. Anything to try and mute it, even just for a fucking second.”
I scoot closer, reaching out carefully, my hands attempting to settle his arms. He flinches, but I don’t let go.
“You don’t have to go through it alone. I’m not afraid of you, what you’ve been through. You can get help. I’m here.”
His eyes flick to mine, wild and hollow, and I don’t miss the subtle tension of his body at the word help.
“I should have been able to save them.” The words fall from his lips like ash.
“You were a kid, Elias,” I say, voice steady even though my heart is breaking. “A child. What happened is not your burden to carry. Your father is the only one responsible for what happened that night.”