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I nod, brushing her cheek, catching her tears with my thumb.

“It’s the most beautiful resting place he could have.” She closes her eyes as more tears roll down her cheek. I wrap her in a tight embrace and whisper in her ear.

“When you’re ready, I’ll take you to him, and you’ll see how loved he is.”

Chapter Thirteen

Alexis

“Look, Mickey, look,” I screech as I swing. I’m really high. It feels like I’m floating in the sky. Mickey doesn’t like the swing. He hates high things. He’s scared he’s going to fall. “You need to let go, Lexie,” he says, sitting on the swing staring up at me. Let go of the swing? But then I will fall.

“I don’t want to fall, Mickey,” I say. He grows somber.

“That’s not what I mean. You need to let go of me.” But I’m not holding him. He turns his head. A man is standing near the fence. He’s watching us, holding something in his hand, but I can’t see what. He steps closer to us. I grin at him, my legs swinging back and forth over and over again. “Hello,” I greet happily. I recognize him now. It’s Mr Monroe, our foster parent. “Is dinner ready?”

He doesn’t say anything. He just stares weirdly at Mickey and lifts his arm. He’s holding a knife. Why is he holding a knife? He steps closer to Mickey. The knife gleams in the sun. What is he doing? He’s standing before Mickey now, the knife raised high in the sky. But Mickey is staring at me. Why isn’t he running? “Run, Mickey!” I scream, trying to get closer to him, but my body doesn’t work. “It’s too late, Lexie.”

“You’re fine, Mickey. You just need to run,” I plead.

“I was sleeping, Lexi. I just wanted to sleep,” He hiccups. “But I didn’t want to sleep forever.” His eyes start to droop, and he’s red again. “No—please, wake up, Mickey—you need to wake up!”

I try to move, but I’m so tired. “Wake up!” I try to yell, but no words come out.

“Alexis, you need to wake up,” A voice says, but it’s like he’s underwater. I can see Mickey, but he’s fading.

Don’t go, don’t leave me.

“Alexis!” My eyes fly open. My heart hammers in my chest. I can’t breathe. I claw at my shirt. Air I need air. Why the fuck is there no air?

“Breathe,” the voice soothes. I’m trying. Can’t he see that? The haze in my eyes vanishes. A familiar set of eyes meets mine. Carson. “I’ve got you.” He is leaning above me, his face tight with worry.

My heart rate slows. My throat is extremely dry, as if I haven’t had water in days. Something strokes my back. I relax in the touch. “Cars,” I breathe. He grins.

“I’m here, Sunshine. I’m here.” I try to match his grin, but I’m so tired. I close my eyes for a second, thinking about nothing but the way his hands slide over my back. My hands shake as I try to pull him closer. More. I need more. He pulls his hands away, his comforting touch leaving me. My heart rate spikes up again.

“No—no, don’t go.” I open my eyes, breathing heavily. “Don’t go.”

He shakes his head. “Hey, hey, I’m not going anywhere.” He circles the bed so he’s sitting against the headboard, then opens his arms. I don’t think before I leap into his lap. Somewhere in the back of my mind I know this isn’t appropriate, but I don’t care. He’s here. I’m not alone. I don’t ever want to be alone anymore. He cradles me against his chest. His hands wrap tightly around my back. I nuzzle into his neck, trying to ignore the way he feels and smells. But fuck does he smell good. “I’m here.” He touches the top of my head with his palm, holding me against him, pressing me tighter into his neck.

His fingers run through my hair, like I had done to him days ago. “You’re safe, I’ve got you now.”

“Mickey,” I cry, tears pooling in my eyes. He swallows hard, holding me tighter against him. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’m so sorry.” A sob escapes my throat.

I want Mickey, I want my brother back, I hate these stupid dreams. I hate how they bring me hope to crush me in the end. My body shakes with the force of my sobs. My tears run down Carson’s neck. I claw at his back, trying to get closer to him.

“Let it out. I’ve got you, no one will ever hurt you again.” He doesn’t say anything about the way I’m clawing at him, or how I’m soaking his shirt with my tears. He holds me tighter, moving us back and forth in a swinging motion. Something wet presses against my forehead, over and over again. Lips. He’s kissing my forehead—his breath fans over my face. I can feel his heart race, his chest moving up and down against mine. I nuzzle my nose against his throat, taking deep breaths.

“Cars,” I whisper again.

He nods, his thumb brushing gently against my cheek. “I’m here.” I lift my head from his neck. Carson grins at me sadly, then lets go of my hair and back, using his thumbs to swipe the tears away. I stare into his mismatched eyes, noticing the sadness and concern and how his eyes are a little red as well. “We were sleeping,” I whisper mostly to myself.

“I woke up, and he was just standing there.” My lips start to tremble again. Carson shushes me as he carefully lifts me, lays down on the mattress, his head leaning on the pillow, then pulls on my hand. My head collides with his chest. I snuggle closer, the rhythm of his heart soothing me. He grabs my hair again, playing with the loose strands. “You don’t have to tell me.”

“I want to.” The first time I told what had happened was when I woke up in the hospital. The second and last time was with Ash, when I woke him up because of a nightmare.

I hate telling the story. I hate reliving it again, but I trust Carson. He deserves to know. “You don’t have to tell me out of obligation.” His fingers run down my back, leaving goosebumps in their wake. “You don’t have to tell me anything. I just wanted to comfort you.” Fucking hell, I was right. He really is a gentleman. It might be the bare minimum, but hearing those words come out of his mouth makes my body melt. “I know, I trust you.” His body stills underneath for a second before relaxing again. He blows out a breath.

“You have no idea what that means to me.” I cuddle closer to his chest. My palm lies on his bare stomach where his t-shirt has ridden up. We lay there in silence, only the sound of our breathing audible. “We were sleeping,” I repeat. “Our foster parent was standing in the room. He had something in his hand, but I couldn’t see what.” I take a deep breath. Carson squeezes me gently to let me know he’s here.