“A rope? Think he’d let us?”
Wade frowns down at the dog, who took a crap on the carpet a few minutes ago and may very well have to pee soon if they don’t take him out. “I think we open the door and see what happens.”
“He could run away.”
“And go where? We feed him here.”
She supposes he’s right. The food lives here. If the dog is hungry, he knows where to find it. She’s still afraid to lose him, though, and watches with her breath held tight while he limps out the door to pee on a tree.
Hedoes notturn around right away to come back in.
“Dog? Gator?” she calls out, happy and upbeat. “Come on. Come inside. Come.”
Wade pats his leg. “Come on, now.”
They make a variety of ridiculous noises and gestures, but the dog is far too busy chewing on a branch to pay them any attention. In the end, they lure him in with a hunk of bread, and that only reminds her they’ll be running out of food a lot faster with three mouths to feed.
“He didn’t jump the fence again,” she whispers in bed, after the dog is curled up in the corner of the room.
“We still can’t keep him,” Wade replies.
It’s a token protest, and she knows it. “Of course not.”
* * *
Wade’s having another nightmare. Just like before, Kara sits uselessly halfway across the room. Can’t help or soothe. That would only make it worse.
The dog is worried, too, approaching the bed while Wade tosses and turns, tilting his head at how desperately he thrashes.
Wade’s hand falls over the edge of the mattress, and Gator licks his fingers before she can stop him. Panic hits her at first, assuming the worst, but Wade only settles instead of lashing out.
She’s not prepared for the mixture of emotions that hit her. Relief that he’s allowing himself some amount of comfort, andpain heavy in her heart that it’s not her who can offer it. He never wakes up this time, only slips back into a quiet, restful sleep. It’s her who lies awake for an hour, waiting for any further hints of another nightmare and wrestling with her longing to soothe him.
The second nightmare wakes her much later with a strangled gasp as he kicks at the wall beside the bed.
She waits, hoping he’ll come out of it on his own, but this one lasts longer and she begins to worry he won’t. He could give himself a heart attack like this. More than once she watches as he stops breathing altogether, holding it tight in his lungs before being forced to suck in air. His head comes dangerously close to the side table, and she almost lunges to shove her hand in between so he doesn’t get a concussion. Thankfully, it never connects.
The dog wanders into a corner again, this time unable to handle the drastic change in intensity.
“Wade?” she calls out.
No response.
Kara tries again and again, getting a little closer until she’s just out of reach. It tears her apart to see him like this and be unable to do anything about it. He’s sweat-slicked and miserable with tears streaming down his face and her name on his tongue begging for help she can’t give.
She considers shaking his ankle, then darting out of the way. Maybe pelting him with a pillow from a distance or grabbing a pot from the kitchen and banging it against the wall. Anything to help him escape a nightmare he doesn’t deserve to be trapped in.
Silas is going to suffer for what he’s done, she thinks, anger bubbling like lava in her gut. He’s taken something from Wade that she isn’t sure he’ll ever get back, and that’s earned him a death worthy of the crime.
“Wade, wake up, you’re dreaming,” she tries again, louder and with more force.
She doesn’t touch him. Made that mistake twice and won’t repeat it, but she still triggers a reaction she should have seen coming.
His eyes fly open and the moment he sees her, she knows she’s made a grave mistake.
She’s too close.
All he has to do is reach out and suddenly she’s being dragged onto the bed, her hands pinned above her head, and his body pushing her down into the mattress.
