Page 44 of Stroke Rate

Blink. “Riv, River, I’m right here, are you awake?”

Blink, blink, blink. He shook his head; everything felt heavy, weighed down. A hot, muscular body holding him tight, rocking him, cradling his face, looking straight into his eyes. His eyes were blue, bright, and wet. Not green, not soft like a spring field, not Cooper’s eyes, Chris’ eyes. Blue like deep water, blue like lapis. He’s okay, not in the broken bus where everyone around him was dead, or dying, moaning, or yelling for help. No whipping wind, or ice-cold limbs, no blue and red flashing lights. No smell of gasoline, smoke, or blood. Instead, it’s dark with a warm body under him. Chris. The smell of patchouli and oranges invaded his senses. Chris, not Coop. It wasn't Coop bringing him back to life while holding his face. He was being held by Chris through a nightmare. It’s Chris' deep voice shushing him, not Coop’s gentle sing-song voice telling him to find his face. It’s Chris’ soft, thick hands holding him together, not the warmth of Coop's small, powerful hands wiping his cheeks.

Blinking away the terror of sleep, he realized he was safe and warm in bed with Chris. For the first time, it wasn't Coop who pulled River from the paralysis of his nightmare. It was Chris. Chris’ voice, Chris’ touch, Chris’ eyes. Chris, Chris, Chris as his body went limp, and he fell back into the depths of sleep. Safe, warm, and protected.‌

“Morning,” River groaned, his voice rough from sleep. Over the past month or so his voice had strengthened; it was still soft and grumbly, but louder than it had been in a while.

“There you are, baby.” Chris pushed his hair back, watching River with that searching gaze he always had. “Hi.”

“Hi.” The room had a faint glow; a warm pink hue colored the walls as dawn approached. “I’m, uh, um, I’m sorry,” he mumbled into Chris' neck as he pulled him closer. He longed to forget the nightmare and avoid explaining last night to Chris, but with the look on Chris' face, River knew that wasn't a choice. Chris was worried, and seeing that hurt his heart.

“Shhh, it’s fine. Do you want to tell me about it?”

“Not really,” he grumbled.

“You don't have to if you aren't ready.”

“Fuck.” River hadn't had a nightmare, or at least one he could remember since he had been sleeping in Chris’ bed. Not since they had decided it was best for River to stay and not go back to his own lonely home. He thought they were over, and as much as it had stung to not see Coop every night, he was thankful to not relive the accident over and over. But apparently they were not over; last night's dream was a doozy.

“Did I scream?”

“No, you were just moaning, and you were crying.” Chris drew River near, their bodies flush against one another, his hand rubbing a soothing pattern up and down the knobs of River’s spine. “You don't have to tell me.”

“I do.” River was wide awake now; might as well lay it all out there. “I have nightmares. Obviously.” He wiggled his body, puffing out a self-deprecating sound. “I have nightmares about the accident; my therapist told me I have a form of sleep paralysis. I get stuck in my nightmares. Like, I know it’s not real, but I can’t wake up.”

Fuck, this was the hard part. He took a shuddering breath, trying to regain some composure; he really didn’t want to cry. “So I get stuck, but for some reason Coop gets me out of them. He…he comes and takes my face in his hands, and he tells me to find his face. As soon as I find it, I wake up, or at least I’m pulled from the dream.” Tears were streaming down his cheeks and dropping onto Chris. “I um, I get to see him, hear him, feel him every time I have a nightmare, and as torturous as that is, it’s also comforting. It’s what has gotten me through four years. Knowing that I still get to have a little bit of him. Even if it’s not real.” He shook his head because that sounded insane; he sounded insane.

Chris tapped him, a gesture to continue. “I mean, that’s it. Those are the dreams, the nightmares. Oceana said they should wane with time. She gave me things to try to wake myself up, but nothing has worked. Just Coop; he’s the only thing that pulls me out of them. Tonight, though, tonight I couldn't find his face.” A guttural sob broke through as River’s body convulsed in Chris’ arms. “I couldn’t see him, but I knew I was being held by someone. I could hear you comforting me. You were what pulled me back.”

“Shhh, it’s okay, baby, you don’t have to tell me more.”

“No, it’s time. I need to. I want to tell you about the accident.” So he told the entire story; it wasn't as long as most people thought. River still remembered little of what happened, but it’s enough. The black, snowy night, the bus and the kids, and the black ice. Coop and Brooke. He recounted ‌Coop’s wish for Chris and Brooke to become friends, how Coop was kind of his fanboy. That made them both huff a sad laugh.

“I woke up three days later, and nothing has been the same since. I got off easily; for some reason, Brooke and I were mostly okay. Brooke, aside from a few stitches, just had some bumps and bruises.” River could feel Chris nodding his head, his presence soothing as River continued. “Um, I broke my femur. I needed plates and screws.” Chris rubbed over the scar, and River placed his hand over his, slotting their fingers together. “That’s it. The life I knew was completely over. I was more or less a hermit for three-ish years. I didn’t want anyone’s help; I lost my voice for a bit. Everyone was gone again. I’m sure Brooke told you I ‌blocked her from my life—I just couldn’t deal. I did a lot of therapy, and I couldn't find the will to pull myself out of it until Brooke emailed me your swimming videos. She told me about you, your coaching messes, and encouraged me to think about it. It took me months to make a plan, and find the guts to actually approach you.” A laugh bubbled out, because that was a lot to dump before the sun was even all the way up.

“Shit River, I’m so sorry, baby.” Chris brushed his fingers over River’s brow, smoothing the crease between his eyes. Placing a kiss on the corner of his mouth, “Just, just let me take care of you. Please.”

Overwhelmed by sudden exhaustion, River could only respond with, "Mmmmmmm." He felt as though he could sleep forever. He hadn’t felt this exhausted or secure in a long time, maybe ever. The feeling of years of tension leaching out of him made him feel like a marionette whose strings were cut loose. Now, the things holding him together were Chris’ strong arms and loving heart. He drifted off, knowing he would never have to hold himself together or be alone again.

Chapter thirty-six

River

Once they both woke up, they hopped in the shower together, not willing to be apart from each other. Scrubbing the soap from Chris’ hair, River said, “We have a few weeks before the Pro Series. So it's time to taper. What do you want to do?”

Twirling in River’s arms, Chris gazed up at him, confusion written all over his face. “What do you mean, what do I want to do?”

“Uh, just that. We pretty much have two weeks free of training. We need to still move and be active, but no pool time. Your muscles need to rest. It will give you a leg up at the race.”

Chris looks baffled, like River was speaking in another language. “I don't understand.”

“Chris, please tell me you have been tapering? That previous coaches have stopped your training and given you a break before a big race.”

Chris just gave River a sad smile.

“No one has ever let you rest?”

“I mean, in college…kind of. But no.”