Page 50 of Ballrooms & Blackmail

There’s no keeping my nightmares away.

But I can help River.

“I’ll grab a blanket,” I murmur. “Sleep on the floor.”

But her fingers don’t release mine. “I need you here, Thorn.”

“I’ll be between you and the door?—”

She lifts the blankets.

“No, honey. Here.”

For a moment, I just stare at her.

Then, as though my body is possessed by some other creature, I slip beneath the blanket, lie down beside her.

She rolls to face me. “I used to count backward from a thousand,” she says quietly.

“What?”

“When I had a nightmare and couldn’t go back to sleep.” Her voice roughens slightly. “I’d count things. Cracks. Shadows. Breaths. Numbers.” A shrug. “It helped.”

My jaw tightens painfully. “What do you do now?”

River looks at me for a long moment then she whispers, “Ocean sounds.”

My lungs spasms. “I can get my phone.”

She touches my cheek. “No, honey.” A soft smile. “Because it’s not really the sounds that have been helping me sleep.”

Brows dragging together, I ask, “It isn’t?”

“No.” A breath. “I think…I think it’s because I have you.”

“What?” I rasp again.

“Seeing you,” she murmurs. “Hearing your voice.” She settles a hand on my chest. “Touching you…” She shifts closer, tucks her head into the crook of my arm, her voice softening, her exhale slow and steady. “You remind me that I’m not alone. That I’m safe.”

Her words slam into me, stealing all the breath from my lungs, the words from my tongue.

She burrows closers, her words growing sleepy. “I’m not lonely when you’re close by. Not scared. Not…broken,” she trails off.

More slams.

More stolen breaths and lost words.

But it turns out it doesn’t matter that I can’t speak, can’t breathe.

Because River is drifting off to sleep, her face pressed to my chest, her scent in my nose.

“When you’re in my arms,” I murmur, tucking her close as I reach over to turn off the lights, “I think…” I exhale softly. “I think I might not be broken either.”

A sigh and when I glance down, the moonlight gilding her face, I see her eyes are closed, her breathing is slow and steady.

But her mouth is curved into a smile.

I commit that smile to memory.