We all assume that it was his conscience’s way of pulling him from where he was buried under the demon’s control, but it doesn’t change what he saw. What was so real and traumatizing for him.
And now, some nights, he suffers under the weight of that false reality, barely able to pull himself away from it in the morning.
He does pray, though he’s not comfortable enough to enter the chapel again, but I’ve never been the church-going type. Even if I do believe now.
Instead, I do what I know will help right here, right now.
I roll onto my side, grazing my fingertips over his jaw.
“Atticus?” I whisper, feeling his warm skin against mine. “It’s time to wake up. You’re dreaming again.”
“N-no,” he murmurs, brows drawn tight as he shakes.
“Yes. Come on, come back to me. Let me fix it.”
Atticus shivers, as if he truly does hear my voice from deep within his slumber. My fingers trail down his neck, rubbing patterns onto his bare chest.
“It’s alright, baby. You’ll come back. I’m here,” I tell him softly, watching his eyes dart back and forth beneath closed eyelids.
“C-Cam,” he whispers. “Atty…”
“Shh,” I coo.
And because it never fails to wake him—and I’m a greedy little thing—I lean over and lay a gentle kiss to his lips.
A long, sweet press of our mouths together. And as my eyes open, hovering just above his mouth, hazel eyes slowly reveal themselves to me.
“There you are.” I grin, pressing another kiss to his jaw. “Welcome back.”
Atticus releases a shaky, uncertain breath, his arms wrapping around my waist and pulling me on top of his body.
“It was bad,” he mumbles. “I was doing it again. I was slaughtering you all with my own two hands.”
A single tear slips from his eyes, dripping into his hairline. I wipe my palm over the wet streak.
“You said you’d forgive me,” he continues. “That day, as I wrapped my hands around your throat, you said you forgave me for what I’d done. That you loved me.”
“I’m amazing even in your subconscious,” I joke, but Atticus doesn’t laugh.
He stares at me with an expression full of admiration. “I love you, Cameron. I want you to marry me someday; I want you to pull me from my nightmares until we die.”
“M-marriage?” I stutter, my eyes growing wide.
Well, good morning, Cameron!
“Yes,” Atticus whispers. “I want to keep bossing you around forever.”
“God,” I moan, rubbing myself against him. “I love it when you say forever.”
“Yeah?” he breathes out, hands sliding down to grip my bare ass. “You want forever, sweetheart?”
The atmosphere between us is shiftingfast.
“Even more than that,” I tell him, loving the friction of him grinding me against his hardening length. “I want anything and everything you’ll give me.”
“Mmm. I’ll give you all I have. I’m never letting you go.”
It’s a promise, a threat, a comfort.
