“Nix,” I say, my voice sharpening as I force my way to full consciousness. “Nix, baby, stop.”
“Mama,” she mutters, tossing her head back so hard she nails my chin.
I work my jaw and flip her onto her back. “Lennix, wake up.”
“Mama, oh God,” she says fretfully, her eyes still closed. “Come back. Mama, don’t go. Don’t go.”
The words jumble, dissolving into sobs that shake her shoulders and crumple her pretty face.
“Shhhh.” I bend my lips to her ear. “I’m here. Hey, I’m right here.”
When I push her hair back, she stills, grabbing my hand and bringing it to her face. She kisses my hand and her tears wet my fingers.
“Mama,” she says, her eyes squeezed tightly shut. “I thought . . . I thought . . .”
“I’m here,” I whisper to her. I’m not sure if I’m telling her that I’m her mother to keep her calm, or if I’m telling her that I’m here, but it doesn’t matter. I am here, and I want to do whatever I can to ease this pain.
In slow blinks, she comes awake. She looks up at me and then around the room.
“Was I dreaming?” The words emerge hoarse and hesitant.
“Yeah.” I brush tears from her cheeks, that same spot in my chest going tight seeing her pain as when I witnessed her simple joy in the rain.
“I woke you up,” she says. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine.”
I lie down beside her. She’s shaking, and I can’t tell if it’s a reaction from the dream, or the coolness of the room.
“Are you cold?” I pull away to get out of bed and adjust the temperature.
“No.” She grabs my arm under the sheet and huddles into me, her bare skin cool against mine. “Please just . . . hold me.” Her laugh comes shaky and thin. “You said no attachments, and here I am in your bed, clinging and crying and—”
“You know that’s not what I meant.” I tuck her into my side and kiss her hair.
I hesitate when she doesn’t respond, but just shivers against me.
“You remember your dream? You want to talk about it?”
An anxious breath is her only response. I’m about to move on, make sure she knows she doesn’t have to talk about it, but then she nods. I wait a few more beats while she grips my arm a little tighter.
“I’ve had the dream before. I’m always at the cliffs overlooking the valley where Cade laid the pipeline.”
When she mentions Cade, I’m not sure if she means my father or the company, but I know to her they’re one and the same.
“We’re all there.” Her short chuckle breezes over my skin. “Even your friend and mine, Mr. Paul.”
I chuckle a little, too, but I still hear her crying in her sleep, frantic and trapped in her unconsciousness, still feel her shivering against me, so her comment only goes so far to lighten the moment.
“My mom is there.” Her voice cracks and she pulls in a wispy breath. “She’s so beautiful. So alive. And then she’s not.”
“What happens?”
“When I look down again, the construction trucks are there and they dig up my mom’s body.”
I pull her closer, unable to wrap my arms around her tightly enough. “I’m so sorry.”
“It . . . there’s just no closure, you know? The cops were a joke when she disappeared. I mean, it’s so tough getting justice when our women go missing.”