Despite the pain, despite the lingering edge of the nightmare, a burst of laughter slips out. “You’re kidding me.”
“Unless I somehow took your pain meds in my sleep, I promise that’s what happened.”
Jonah pulls himself free from between the bed and the wall, his hair sticking up in every direction. He looks completely baffled, and that only makes me laugh harder, even as my shoulder protests.
“It has to be one of those vibrating beds from the seventies.”
“A what?” He sounds almost offended as he climbs back onto the mattress, careful to stay on his side.
“I thought they were extinct. Like phone booths and decent customer service.”
Max cautiously emerges from under the table, approaching the bed like it’s personally betrayed him. He sniffs the edge of the mattress, then gives us both a look that makes it very clear he’s questioning our judgment.
“Come here, buddy,” I pat the space beside me. “The earthquake is over.”
He hesitates, then jumps up, settling between Jonah and me like a furry chaperone. I scratch behind his ears, grateful for the distraction from the lingering images of my nightmare.
“Are you okay?” Jonah asks softly. “Before that happened. You screamed.”
I keep my focus on Max’s fur, suddenly unable to meet Jonah’s gaze.
“Just a bad dream,” I add, trying for casual. “Happens sometimes.”
He doesn’t look away. “About the tornado?”
I keep stroking Max, grounding myself in the steady rhythm. “Among other things.”
“Do you want to talk about it?” His tone is gentle.
“Not really.” I shift, trying to find a position that doesn’t make my shoulder scream. The painkillers have worn off, leaving everything sharp and exposed.
“I get them too,” Jonah offers after a moment. “Nightmares.”
That catches me off guard enough to finally look up. In the dim light filtering through the cheap motel curtains, he seems softer.
“You do?”
He nods. “Since I was a kid. After the tornado that nearly hit our house. I dream I'm trapped in our basement while the house disappears above me, piece by piece. Any time I get stressed out or the world seems to be crumbling around me, I get the tornado dream. In a way, it’s a part of a self-check system.”
“Mine are about Dad,” I admit, the words tumbling out before I can stop them. “Not always the actual accident. Sometimes it's just him disappearing. The tornado taking him while I watch, unable to do anything.”
Jonah's hand finds mine in the darkness, his touch warm and steady. “I'm sorry.”
“Yeah, well.” I clear my throat, uncomfortable with the vulnerability hanging between us. “At least tonight we got a literal wake-up call before it got too bad.”
“Courtesy of the Honeymoon Suite's finest feature,” he says dryly.
Max shifts between us, his warm weight pressing against my good side. His presence is anchoring, reminding me that I'm here, not trapped in the nightmare.
“What time is it anyway?” I ask, suddenly aware of how dark it is outside.
Jonah fumbles for his phone on the nightstand. “3:17 AM.”
“Great.” I sigh, knowing from experience that sleep won't return easily now. “Sorry I woke you.”
“I’m more worried about you.”
“I'm fine,” I insist, though the tremors in my hands betray me. I flex my fingers, trying to stop the shaking. “The nightmares come with the territory.”
