Sweet Little Nothing

I don't remember anything about the drive to campus. I have no clue if I passed another car, saw a deer, nothing.

My sole focus was on getting to my girl.

The second I throw the car in park, I shoot off a text to Stella, and she rushes down to let me in. Wordlessly, we both rush back up to the third floor to their dorm.

I hear her before I see her, but I'm still stricken by the sight of her thrashing and crying. She's begging someone to stop, for them not to hurt her.

Rage, scalding liquid rage, pours through me, because I know exactly who she's dreaming about.

Stella looks at me helplessly. "I tried to calm her down. Tried to wake her up. It was no use. She just screamed louder anytime I touched her."

I nod so that she knows I hear her, fully entering the bedroom.

My little mouse whimpers, and my heart cracks a little more. "It's okay. I'm here."

She moves fitfully beneath the covers, and on instinct I lie down beside her. Immediately she turns and curls into me. "Sterling," she whispers, still asleep.

Thank you, God. Instinctually, her body recognizes mine. "It's me, baby."

I hold her close as she sighs, snuggling into me and falling into a peaceful sleep.

"Thank you," Stella whispers before heading back to her own room.

I tell myself I'm only going to lie with her for a little while, just long enough to make sure she's truly okay, and then I'll move to the couch so that I'm here if she needs me again.

Except the next thing I know, it's morning, and we're both blinking ourselves awake.

"Sterling?" She yawns, confusion swirling in her brown eyes. "What are you doing here?"

"You don't remember?" I ask, and she shakes her head.

"Remember what?"

"Stella called me last night because you were having a nightmare and she couldn't calm you down."

"Oh." She looks away from me.

Ever so softly, I reach over and grasp her chin between my thumb and index finger, bringing her gaze back to mine. "What have I told you about hiding from me? Don't be embarrassed. You've been to hell and back more than once and somehow come out stronger every time."

"I don't feel very strong."

"You are. So fucking strong. You just can't see it yet, but you will."

"So Stella called you? I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry. Don't you know I'd do anything for you?"

"Thanks, I guess." She pushes the covers off of her and sits up. "Might as well make you breakfast since you're here. It's the least I can do."

"What's on the menu?" I ask, following her into the kitchenette.

She swings open the fridge door, and I shamelessly check out her ass as she bends over and looks inside. "Well, unless you want water and bread, we better order in."

I laugh at her put-out tone. "Or, I can run out and get us something from Holy Roasters."

"Really? You'd do that?"

"You know I would."

She closes the fridge and wraps me in a hug, shocking the hell out of me. "Thanks, Ster."

"Anything for you, baby." And I fucking mean it...

Anything.

Chapter Forty-Four

Emmy

After Sterling leaves, I head back into my room to get changed out of my pajamas. When I emerge, Stella's at the counter pouring herself a cup of coffee.

"So… I had a nightmare?"

Stella yelps and rocks back on her heels, clutching her mug to her chest. "Yeah, you did. It scared me."

Guilt and shame are pressing on me, making me feel about an inch tall. A fact my best friend doesn't miss.

"Don't feel bad, Emmy. It's understandable, you know?"

"Yeah, I know." And I do, but that knowledge does nothing to make me feel any better. "Why did you call Sterling?"

"I didn't know what else to do. But, babe, the second he was next to you, you calmed down. You stopped thrashing and crying and screaming, just curled into him and went right to sleep."

"Really?"

"Yes, and when I tried to comfort you, it just made things worse."

I'm not quite sure how to process what she's saying, so I stay quiet.

"Speaking of, where is he?"

"Oh, he went to get us breakfast. For you, too."

A cheek-splitting grin overtakes her face. "I'm telling you, that man is a keeper."

I glance down at my feet, wriggling my toes over the plush rug. "I know he is. I'm just worried I'm not."

"Emmy. He loves you, and you are so worthy of his love. Do you hear me? You deserve good things and to be happy and healthy. Are you gonna..." She swallows and looks away.

"Am I going to what?"

"Are you gonna see a therapist or anything?"

My eyes water. There's such a freaking stigma surrounding mental health, and in my family, it's better swept under the rug. And certainly never talked about. It's part of the reason, aside from the hell Rob put me through, that I wanted to go into the psych field.