Page 7 of Niall

“Anna, mo mhuirnín,” I begged. “I’m here. It’s Niall. You’re safe. I have you.”

Finally, my voice broke through her panic, and her eyes flew open, wet with tears. “Niall,” she gasped, looking around wildly. “I was back there. Alone. You were just a dream. I was back there!” she wailed.

I reacted on instinct, pulling her into my arms. “No, you’re here. Safe. With me.”

She wept into my neck, her tears hot on my skin. “It was so real…”

“No. Feel me, baby. Feel me holding you. You’re safe.”

She shuddered, collapsing against me. I stroked up and down her back, whispering to her. Reciting an Irish lullaby my mum used to croon to soothe me as a child. I didn’t sing, only spoke the lyrics in a soft voice, feeling her relax. But she clung to me, her fingers gripping my shirt as if afraid to let go. Unable to resist, I slid my hand into her hair, the strands heavy and silky in my fingers.

“Don’t leave me,” she begged.

Without a word, I lifted her, then slid onto the bed. I settled her between my legs, her head resting on my chest, and I wrapped my arms around her, holding her close. I surrounded her, her small form fitting me perfectly.

“I’m staying right here. Go to sleep,” I murmured. “I have you. No one will touch you, Anna.”

I felt her breathing begin to even out.

“Ever,” I added.

I woke in the early morning, already exhausted. Anna’s night terrors were constant, even with me holding her. She would stiffen then begin to shake, and if I didn’t start comforting her fast enough, the screaming began. Or the weeping.

I wasn’t sure what was worse. Both felt as if her pain seeped under my skin—I could feel it so intensely. Finally, about four a.m., she sank into a peaceful slumber. In desperation, I had texted Dr. Barnes, and he told me to give her another dose of her pain meds and a sleeping tablet. That seemed to help, and she was able to get some rest.

I fell into a light sleep with her wrapped in my arms, but I felt every one of her low grunts of pain or fractured memories as she relived them. I would soothe and whisper to her, easing her fear before it took a strong enough hold to wake her.

I looked down at her, surprised to find my hand fisted in her hair, holding her tight. I had never had a woman here before. I couldn’t recall the last time I had slept beside someone. And despite the reasons for Anna being here, I was surprisingly okay with waking up with her.

I carefully eased her to the pillow, sliding out from under her. I paused, drifting my hand down her hair, then tucking the comforter tight around her. I left the door open, the light on, and I grabbed my phone, making some needed calls. A short time later, I had all I required, and I checked in on her, finding her awake and looking around the room, confused but calm.

“Hey,” I greeted her.

She looked at me, her hair tumbling over her shoulder, creases on her cheek from where she’d been sleeping on my chest earlier. She still looked tired, and I imagined she thought the same about me. She was shy in her response.

“Hi,” she whispered, her fingers nervously playing with the edge of the comforter. “I’m sorry.”

I crossed the room, sitting on the mattress. It dipped under my weight, and she shifted, her thigh pressing into my hip. “There’s no need to be sorry.”

“I kept you up a lot.”

I took her hand, stopping her nervous movements. “Given what you went through, hardly surprising.” I squeezed her fingers. “It’ll get better, Anna. You need some time to heal.”

She nodded, swallowing. “You slept with me.”

“You were calmer when I did.”

“Thank you.”

I smiled, glad she wasn’t upset. “I got us breakfast sent up. And some clothes for you to wear. You can shower again if you want, and then we’ll go see Una and Finn, okay?”

“Okay.”

I stood, holding out my hand. She took it, letting me pull her from the bed. I couldn’t resist teasing her. “You’re really short.”

She glanced up at me. “Maybe you’re really tall.”

I chuckled. “I am that. You’re tiny, too. I got a medium in the clothes, but I’m thinking maybe I should have gotten a small or kid-sized.”