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“I’m not leaving your side,” he whispered, “and you’re not fucking allowed to leave mine. Okay? You’re not allowed. I need you. When you get your shit together, Noa needs you too. You’re going to get better.”
I coughed and drew a panicked breath as I was jerked from sleep, and I blinked in the darkness. I felt a hand—fuck. One of the lights flicked on, and I saw Lucian standing over me.
“Let’s go outside, love,” he whispered.
Christ, had I made any sounds?
Disoriented as fuck, I looked around us. Noa was asleep next to me. Cam too, in the other bed. Both looked so peaceful, hugging their squishy stuffies, and it brought me some relief.
Lucian helped me into a pair of sweats and hoisted me up, and he handed me my cane.
“Braces or chair?”
I tested my strength and shook my head. I was okay. Shaky but okay.
I followed him out onto the balcony and automatically expected a chill to hit me, but it was fairly warm and humid.
I took a deep breath and let it out slowly, feeling the images of my nightmare fading. Or the memories, rather.
We sat down next to each other, and Lucian lit up a smoke in the darkness. He’d brought out two sodas too.
“Did you hear me?” I had to clear my throat from sleep.
He shook his head and leaned back. “No… I woke up to go to the bathroom, and when I came back, I noticed you looked tense.” He shifted his chair closer to mine. “Nightmares have always paralyzed you.”
He had a point. When I was tossing and turning, everything was good. I’d even had to prove it. A couple years ago, Lucian had given me a smartwatch to analyze my sleeping patterns. And my results were better than his.
“Same nightmare as usual?” he asked.
I nodded with a dip of my chin. “The worst one.”
He grabbed my hand and threaded our fingers together.
“I reckon it’s the leftovers from yesterday.” I yawned and scrubbed a hand over my face. Fuck, yesterday had been brutal, but my boy had set me straight. He’d snapped me out of my spiral in the best damn way.
I’d told Lucian about it before dinner, so I was sure he wasn’t surprised I’d had a nightmare.
“Okay, one thing bothers me,” I admitted. “Noa thinks I’ve never given up.”
He took a drag from his smoke and furrowed his brow. “You haven’t.”
I shot him a look. Come on. No need to change history. He knew very well I’d fucking quit.
He blew the smoke skyward and shrugged. “Talking about giving up isn’t giving up, KC. If we counted every time we wanted to throw in the towel…” He trailed off.
I sighed, not satisfied, and looked out over the pitch-black ocean.
I couldn’t see the moon, so it had to be on the other side of the ship. There was a faint glow.
Were we even moving? Considering St. Thomas and St. Croix weren’t far apart, I supposed snail’s pace sufficed.
It was nice out here, though. Every deep breath settled the remnants of unease, allowing me to see how far I’d come.
The bad days would come and go, but I had three amazing partners who pulled me out of my funk.
They were my lifeline, all in their different ways.
Noa unleashed his filter-less anger and soothed my scars with the best sense of humor. He opened my eyes to a perspective I needed more than air.
