I force myself to breathe more slowly, counting four beats for each inhale, then four on the exhale. Slowly, my heartbeat settles to a more reasonable speed, and the tremors rattling my bones cease. “That’s right,” he whispers, and his warm breath on my ear is comforting. It grants me calm and brings me back to the present.
“Thank you,” I manage once I’m settled down enough to speak.
“Are you okay?”
I shake my head, and his arms tighten around me. My body is curled against his, the little spoon to his big spoon. I know I should feel secure like this, and I do, but even Quinton Rossi isn’t enough to save me from my dreams. That’s the one thing he can’t do.
“You remember what the doctor suggested?”
“I don’t want drugs.” Quinton talked to Dr. Lauren yesterday after I kept waking up in the middle of the night. She offered some sleeping pills, but I declined.
“It’s just something to help calm you down to sleep better.”
“I know, but how does she know I won’t get locked into one of those dreams and not be able to get out?” I’ve already told him all about it, about how I both witness Dad’s murder while also seeing it through his eyes. Through his thoughts.
Of course, I know this is all my imagination. There hasn’t been any confirmed explanation of how my father came to lose his life, not that I expect one. If there was, I wouldn’t want to hear it. Though I’m sure not much could be worse than what my imagination has already come up with, I don’t need any of those images cemented in my brain as being the truth. So long as I can tell myself it’s all in my head, I can bear it.
As well as I’m bearing it so far, that is.
“I think the idea is more like blanking you out, so you won’t dream. Knocking you deep into sleep. You need more than an hour at a time. Nobody can last long that way.”
“You never sleep for very long.”
“I manage more than an hour at a stretch without…” He cuts himself off, but I know what he was thinking. Without waking up in a cold sweat, without screaming, without almost falling out of bed.
I’m too tired to argue. I’m too tired for anything. “I don’t know. Maybe.”
“Do you want me to go talk to her?”
“It’s the middle of the night, isn’t it?”
“I’ll call in the morning.” He presses a kiss against my jaw, snuggling me even closer. “I’ll take care of it.”
Rather than asking him not to go, I bite the inside of my cheek. I don’t want him to leave me alone in his room. I haven’t been alone in two days. It made more sense for me to stay with him than the other way around since technically, he’s not supposed to wander around that level the way he can elsewhere. And while Lucas is willing to overlook my missing lessons for a few days, I have no doubt Xander would fly to Corium at the first opportunity to make sure I leave his son alone.
“Are you hungry? I can make you something to eat.”
My stomach churns at the thought of taking a single bite. “I’m fine for now.”
“Aspen. You’ve hardly eaten anything in days.”
“I told you, I don’t have an appetite.”
“But you need to take care of yourself. You need to let me take care of you.” When all I do is sigh, he goes for the throat. “He wouldn’t want you torturing yourself.”
How do you know what he would want? Why would you care? Right now, Quinton is the last person in the world who deserves my bitterness. It’s a knee-jerk reaction after months of being hated by everyone around me. Almost dying more than once because of their opinions of Dad. All of a sudden, it matters what my father would have wanted?
“Maybe later,” I concede. “I just want to stay like this for now.”
“Whatever you want.” I know better than to think the argument is over. He’s going to push me later on. I know I have to eat and drink and take care of myself, but right now, it almost seems unfair for me to do that when Dad is dead and Mom…? She could be, too, for all I know. She might have already been dead by the time I got home after the gas leak before…
I squeeze my eyes shut, pushing away the thoughts threatening to bubble to the surface. There’s already more than enough to keep me on edge and unable to function without that terrible night coming back to haunt me.
We fall into a peaceful silence, but I know better than to think Quinton has fallen asleep. It’s enough for us to just lie here, wrapped up in each other, waiting for morning to come. Things seem more bearable in the daytime.