His body went utterly still.
I felt recognition move through him.
Not a picture.
Not a remembered afternoon or room.
Something deeper.
Less orderly.
His eye closed.
“Whistle.”
I looked at Maeve.
She nodded once.
I gave the signal softly.
Two short notes.
One long.
Noah turned into my hand.
A sob escaped him.
I caught him as he leaned toward me.
His right palm pressed flat against my chest.
“Here.”
The word broke.
“What’s here?”
“The warmth.”
His fingers spread over my sternum.
He lifted his face.
“The dream isn’t a place.”
I could barely draw breath.
“What is it?”
“You.”
Tears ran freely over his cheeks.
“I don’t see you. I feel you.”
My vision blurred.
