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"What do you think I mean?" This conversation is getting ridiculous.
Mags shakes her head. "You don't understand. She never goes back to sleep after…"
"The nightmare?" I supply helpfully.
She purses her lips and glances between me and the hallway. "It wasn't a nightmare."
"Excuse me?"
"It was a memory. She relives it over and over, and it always ends…like last night."
Oh, Jesus Christ.
"Did she tell you anything?"
I want to say yes to keep her talking, but at the same time, I can't do that to King. I know all too well what it's like to have your trust betrayed, and I would never do that to her.
"No, we were going to talk this morning."
"Okay." She picks up her steaming coffee and ejects the cartridge out of the coffee maker. On her way out, she pauses and rotates back to me. "Thank you."
My brows shoot up. "For?"
"Being there for her. She doesn't let many get close. In fact, no one besides Kiwi or me."
I nod, unsure what to respond, and she disappears back down the hall.
I'm sittingat the kitchen table, staring at my cold coffee. I hate that black murky-looking water substitute, but I need to have something in front of me to hold on to as I sort through my thoughts.
I still haven't told Den about King. Maybe I'm worried she'd be my voice of reason. Reason that I've shoved so far down then covered up by whatever I could find just so I don't have to admit to myself what's becoming more and more obvious. Something is wrong with King.
"Hey." Her hesitant greeting snaps me out of my internal battle, and I turn my head.
She is wearing my T-shirt, and my cock immediately twitches at the sight. I scan her bare legs and let my gaze trail back up until our eyes meet.
"My clothes were grimy from…and it was laying on the floor. I hope it's okay. I can go chan—" She fidgets with the material. Her nervousness makes her look like a little girl.
"It's fine." I force a smile on my lips, despite not feeling the emotion. Holding my hand out, I say, "Come here."
She slowly comes closer, and I reach for her as soon as she's at arm's length. I wrap my arm around her middle and lean my head against her chest. Her heart is hammering out of control, and I tilt my head up, finding her staring out the window. She's stiff as a board, and her fear of my reaction makes the decision for me. Can I afford instability in my life? No. Should I run for the hills after everything that I've seen? That is an all-caps FUCK YES. Yet, I can't. Kingsley Monroe has captured my attention, and no matter what, I feel alive for the first time in years. I feel something besides anger and resentment, and I'm not willing to give that up. Yet.
I push my chair back and stand facing her. She dips her head back to meet my eyes.
"Let's go talk somewhere."
We get dressed in silence.As we leave the house, she holds out the keys to her Jeep. I frown at her offering, and my girl only shrugs.
My girl.
I have no clue what horror story she will divulge to me soon, and still, I claim her as mine. I've lost my mind.
I drive us to the reservoir thirty-five minutes out of town. It's in the mountains, and she fumbles with her curved blade the entire ride. I've noticed by now that she carries one of her two knives everywhere. She is never without one. Last night, it was sitting on her bedside table.
Exiting the car, she tucks the knife in a sheath in the back of her jeans, and I stare for a second. What have I gotten myself into?
We walk for a good ten minutes before she speaks. "It's always the same…dream." Her tone is low, and she hugs herself. A sour taste settles on my tongue, and she hasn't even started the actual story.
Her eyes remain trained on the ground, and I take that as her wanting to get it all out on her own terms.
