I think about holding back. I think about making something up.
But I can’t do that. I can’t look my best friend in the eye and lie.
I always tell Blake the truth, no matter what.
“I had a bad dream about Logan,” I say after a moment. “About what he did to me…”
Pain flickers in Blake’s eyes. Then, a second later, his gaze sharpens and darkens.
“Briar, I…” He blinks, and the hardness is gone. All that’s left in his gaze is something soft and pleading. “Do you want me to hold you?”
I should say no. I should tell him off for avoiding me these past few days.
But I don’t. Because I want Blake to hold me. I want him to wrap his big arms around me and make me feel safe.
I nod. “Yes. Please.”
He crawls into bed with me. He wraps his massive, muscled arms around me and hugs me into his chest.
The remaining tension in my body fades as I nuzzle into his big, broad chest. I sink into his embrace and close my eyes.
I think about all the other times Blake has held me. That time we watchedLonglegsin the movie theatre, and I got so freaked out that I practically crawled into his lap. When we got caught out in a downpour during a field trip to Red Rocks junior year of high school, and I stood there shivering, so Blake wrapped his arms around me. The countless hugs we’ve shared.
But this? This is different.
“It’s okay, B. I’m here now. You’re safe. You’re okay.”
My heart skids in my chest. The sound of his voice, soft and steady. The feel of his body strong and warm.
It iseverything.
Heis everything I need right now.
Yeah, things are weird between us because we haven’t addressed why he’s been avoiding me.
But I don’t need to get into that right now. Right now, all I need is Blake, my best friend, holding me, protecting me, making me feel safe.
When I fall asleep, I don’t have another nightmare. I don’t even dream.
I fall into the deepest sleep I can ever remember having.
Chapter 24
Briar
When I wake up, something feels different. Something feels off.
Before I even open my eyes, I know what it is: Blake is gone.
I peel open my eyes and let my sleepy vision adjust, taking in the empty space next to me in bed.
I hold my breath, hoping to hear the sound of his steady breathing from the floor, where he should be sleeping on the air mattress. But there’s nothing.
I even sit up and peer over the edge of the bed to make sure. That familiar sinking feeling hits me square in the gut when I see that Blake’s air mattress is empty.
He left.
I check my phone, hoping for a text from him, but there’s nothing.
