I could change the dressing on my arm without any help. And after a f
ew days the wrapped gauze bandage was reduced to an oversized Band-Aid. The slice the bullet cut ran from the side of my bicep along the ridge of my tricep. Most people would probably never notice it.
I wasn’t going to be one of those people. I’d wear it the rest of my life, knowing how close I came to dying.
I closed the book I was reading and placed it next to me on the bedside table. The house was quiet. I knew in a few minutes I’d hear Reid’s footsteps in the kitchen. He was a notorious midnight-snacker.
It was one of a thousand things about Reid that was carved into my eternal memory. He liked to run early in the morning. He never missed a Texas football game when they were on TV. He liked to shave with a fresh razor and never used one more than once. He liked bourbon straight. I didn’t want to fall asleep reliving everything I knew about him.
I pulled the covers close to my chest and turned off the light.
There was so much screaming. I shook my head, trying to make it stop.
“Abi. Abi. You’re dreaming.”
My eyes adjusted to the darkness. Reid was next to me on the bed. His arm wrapped around my shoulder and he pulled me against his chest. I let go of the pillow I had tried to strangle.
His chest was warm and bare. For a second I nuzzled against him, sighing into his chest. God, I loved how his skin always smelled like clean soap.
“It’s ok. It was just a dream,” he soothed.
I pushed off the solid plane of muscle. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you. You can go back to bed.”
“No. I’m staying until you’re asleep.”
“Why?”
“What?” He squeezed my shoulder. “You’re upset. I’ll wait until I know you’re ok.”
“I am ok.”
“Try to sleep.”
I shrugged away from him. “Why are you doing all this?” I couldn’t remember what the dream was about. But I wasn’t scared anymore. My heartbeat had returned to normal.
“I want to make sure you’re ok.”
“You’re not a bodyguard anymore, Reid. You haven’t been mine in two years.”
I was glad it was dark so I couldn’t see his eyes.
He tensed against me. “Abi, it’s late. Lie down and get some sleep.”
I shook his arm off my shoulder. “Damn it. Fuck. Shit.”
“What is wrong with you?”
I shoved his chest, moving him barely an inch.
“What are you doing in my bed Reid? What am I doing in your house?” I was yelling. “Why are we here? Why are you here? Why do you think you have a say in anything that happens to me after you walked out? Who the fuck do you think you are?”
“Don’t do this.” His voice remained icy calm.
“Do what? Show emotion? Tell you you’re driving me insane with your controlling bullshit? That you have no right to crawl in my bed after you’ve been out of it for two years?” I was on my knees, growing taller and angrier.
He was going to hear two years of pent up heartbreak.
I moved to strike him with a slap across the face but he caught my wrist.