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Guilt shrouded him as he walked back to the seedy motel in the Middle of Nowhere, USA. Overwhelming shame gripped him, his limbs tightening. The pressure on his chest increased until he couldn’t breathe. He fought the urge to cry, to scream, but he couldn’t hold it in. “Why?” he hollered to the sky, convinced no one was listening. They were on their own, and there was no rescue coming. “When will this stop? Just make it stop.”
A knock rapped. Was he back at the motel already? No. He was walking down a dark alley.
The knock rapped again.
“Deckard?”
Harper’s voice reached through to him, and he shot up in bed—his skin drenched in sweat, the blankets and sheets completely asunder. He pinched the bridge of his nose. Another stupid nightmare. Would they never cease?
Light streamed in from the hallway as the door cracked. “Can I come in?”
He straightened the blanket over him. “Sure,” he said, raking a hand through his hair—damp along the base of his neck.
He swiped his forehead as she opened the door fully and stepped in at a gentle, almost hesitant pace, wearing colorful cacti PJ bottoms and a matching T-shirt with a blooming cactus on it.
“You okay?” He scooched up to sit with his back against the headboard.
“I’m fine, but you didn’t sound like it. I heard...”
He took a steadying inhale.Great.She’d heard him. “It was just a nightmare. They happen.”
She moved to the side of his bed, hovering there.
He patted the mattress by his legs. “You can take a seat.”
“Thanks,” she said, doing so.
“I’m sorry if I woke you.” Embarrassment flushed over him. He rarely got embarrassed, but this was flat-out mortification.
“I’m not worried about that. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.” Concern filled her beautiful green eyes.
“I’m fine. Just a stupid nightmare. They happen.” He repeated the line he used whenever he was in a situation like this. Though, being within earshot of someone else rarely happened. Usually it was just him and his demons.
FORTY-SEVEN
ANDI WOKEto the homey scent of cinnamon. And not just cinnamon but sweet icing too. She sat up. Cinnamon buns. Had Christian made breakfast for her?
Climbing out of bed, she cracked the door, hoping to get to the bathroom without being seen so she could at least brush her hair and teeth.
“Morning,” he said, making her jump. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you. Was just using the loo.”
“All good.” Wondering just how much of a mess she looked, she pressed her lips together, remembering the feel of his on hers. “Morning.”
“I made breakfast,” he said.
“It smells wonderful. I’m just going to duck into the bathroom, and I’ll be right out.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
She stepped inside the bathroom, closed the door, and looked into the mirror. Yikes! Her hair looked like a wookie. She grabbed the hairbrush Riley had lent her along with a new toothbrush and paste. Maybe while they were running around for interviews today, they could grab some items from her house.
Taking care of her hair, teeth, and deodorant—the vital three—she looked back in the mirror. Pale with dark circles. Great. She grabbed the tinted moisturizer and dabbed it under her eyes andacross her face, giving her a little shine. She added a swipe of Burt’s Bees tinted lip balm, and with a deep breath, wondering what the day would hold, headed for the kitchen.
The scent of cinnamon buns infused the air, mingling with Christian’s outdoorsy aftershave. She wasn’t sure which smelled better.
“Coffee’s ready,” he said, gesturing to the pot.
“Thanks.” She needed copious amounts after tossing all night.
