Sweet Dandelion

“Why?” I ask.

He lets out a chuckle that rumbles through his body. His breath blows gently against the back of my neck. “If I need to tell you why, then it’s all the more reason you shouldn’t be in my bed right now.”

My lips part slowly. “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.” He sighs heavily, his arms tightening around me.

A few minutes pass in silence save for our breaths, the whirring of a floor fan, and Zeppelin’s soft snores coming from somewhere behind Lachlan.

“Your eyes were red. Were you crying?”

“Huh?” My hair brushes against his arm as I turn my head to look at him over my shoulder.

He sits up the slightest bit so he can look down at me. “When I opened the door, your eyes were red like you’d been crying a lot.”

“Oh, y-yeah,” I stutter. “I woke up from a nightmare. I have them a lot, but this one was worse, I guess that makes sense considering it’s been a year today.”

His dark brows draw together into one thick line. “You’ve never told me you have nightmares.”

I wet my lips and give a small shrug, which is awkward lying down with his arms around me. “I tell you more than I tell anyone, but I don’t tell you everything.”

It surprises me when he glides the large pad of his thumb over my lips, tracing the shape of them. “You can tell me anything, Dani.” He looks hurt by my admission that I keep secrets from him, even though he must know. I’ve only given him small tidbits of my inner most thoughts these last few months, like little breadcrumbs—enough to stave off hunger, but not enough to really survive on.

“It’s hard to share the most shattered parts of ourselves, don’t you think? The thoughts, the memories, the pain … it’s all so jagged and cutting. I already have to hurt, I don’t want other people to hurt too.”

He rolls his body so suddenly he’s not holding me at all. Instead, he hovers above my body, his hands on either side of my head like he’s doing a push up. He’s careful to keep his body from touching mine, but it doesn’t change the fact that we’re in a very compromising position at the moment. I don’t think he’s realized it yet, but I have. If I lifted my hips, I could line my center up perfectly with the outline of his dick through his sweatpants. The thought alone dampens my skin with perspiration. If Lachlan could read my mind right now, I have no doubt he’d grab me and shove me outside as far away from him as possible.

“Did you ever think that by sharing more, then someone else could help you carry the burden? You don’t have to do it all on your own.”

“I’m trying,” I whisper, my voice cracking, “with you. With other people…” I turn my head away, not wanting to look at him right now. “Like my brother … I saw in the hospital how anytime someone mentioned something about what happened, or me, or apologized for the loss of our mother, he … shut down. He already got stuck with me, I don’t want to burden him anymore than I already have.”

With one hand, he brushes back my hair, his fingers lingering longer against my skin than necessary. “I’m certain you’re not a burden on your brother.”

My lower lip trembles and I bite down on it, not wanting to cry. “It doesn’t matter. I feel like I am. And you,” I exhale a breath, my fingers shaking as I reach up to cup his stubbled jaw, “I don’t know why I’ve shared more with you than I have anyone else. It makes no sense.”

I don’t know if he realizes it or not, but he leans into my touch, his eyes fluttering closed for a second. He opens them again, and even in his dark bedroom they’re a blinding blue. “Does it have to make sense?”

I press my finger into the dimple in his chin. “No, I guess not.”

Lachlan lowers his body the tiniest bit closer to mine and I hold my breath. It’s ridiculous how my eyes instantly go to his lips. I want to kiss him again. I want it more than anything, but I don’t dare close the distance between us. He’ll have to be the one to kiss me.

With a groan, Lachlan falls back onto the bed beside me, gathering me into his arms so he’s holding me like before.

“Do you want to talk about your nightmare?”

I shake my head, inhaling a lungful of his delicious scent that clings to his pillow. “No. But I need to.”

Lachlan doesn’t press for me to continue. He waits. He’s good at that—never pushing me, instead letting me work things out in my brain.

Minutes pass in his dark bedroom, and his breaths go even behind me. I’m sure he’s fallen asleep, which is understandable at this early hour.

“The nightmare always starts the same. I’m walking with my friends on our way to lunch. I see my mom, she’s on hall duty during this time. I wave at her and she waves back with a big smile. I get my lunch from the cafeteria and sit down with my friends at our usual spot. We’re talking about something dumb, the holiday break probably and what we’re going to be doing. That’s when we heard the first shot. We all looked around in surprise, the whole cafeteria went eerily silent. I think we all wondered if wh

at we heard was actually a gunshot. That’s when it happened again, and this time there was screaming.”

I close my eyes, fighting the emotions as I’m transported back to that day. The fear still feels fresh today, settling in my stomach like a heavy knot. My throat constricts, like it did that day so I couldn’t even scream.

“The alarms went off, and everyone started screaming and running. I saw my mom come into the cafeteria and I got up to go to her. It put me in a vulnerable position, in a more open area, and that’s when I got shot. Just before I reached her. The screaming got louder then. I dropped to my knees and my mom started crying. She rushed to me, grabbed me by the elbows and fell to the ground with me. There were more gunshots. And fear … I didn’t know fear had a taste, but it does. It was heavy in the air and coated my tongue—salty, metallic, it stung every time I swallowed.”