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Spencer.
“Please,” I plead, trying to free myself of his hold. “He’s coming. He’s going to see.”
He doesn’t release me though, his hold tightening instead. I struggle to break free, but can barely move.
Spencer’s voice gets louder as he draws closer, and my panic grows as I thrash around, trying to get away.
The pain in my chest from the rapid beating of my heart wakes me, my eyes trying to focus on my surroundings as I suck in deep gulps of air. The feeling of panic sticks to me like glue as I kick the blanket off and sit up on the couch, attempting to shake it. Elvis jumps up, sitting next to me as he nuzzles under my arm. I instantly feel more at ease as I smile at him, petting and kissing the top of his adorable head.
This isn’t the first time I’ve been terrorized in my dreams by Paul. I suppose they’re more like nightmares. There was a time when I was plagued by them several times a week. Now, they only pop-up when I’m overly stressed or upset.
Finding out my sister was raped her freshman year of college, knowing she was hurting for so long and I wasn’t there for her, is likely what brought the dream on. Last night, when she told me what that fucker did to her, it felt like I couldn’t breathe. All I ever wanted was to protect her from those types of things, but I couldn’t, and I failed her again last night.
I should’ve told Julianna I understood. That I know what it’s like to be too afraid to speak up. The survival instinct that caused her to ignore what happened by fleeing is also something I’m familiar with. It’s the reason I live my life the way I do. Instead of telling her any of that, I freaked out and made her feel like I was making it about me. I followed that act up with getting shit faced at the bar and oversharing with baby Winston.
I needed my friend, someone to talk to, but she sent Spencer in her place, resulting in me making an even bigger fool out of myself in front of him. It was completely inappropriate of me to ask if I could stay here with him last night, but I couldn’t stand the thought of being alone with my demons.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
Spencer’s voice catches me by surprise, and my heartrate picks up again as I turn to glare at him.
“Jesus, don’t sneak up on me like that.” My head screams out in protest at my harsh tone, and I reach up to rub my throbbing temples.
He smirks and points to the glass of water and aspirin he already left on the coffee table for me, crossing his arms as he leans against the framed entryway to the kitchen. I sneer at him, but hurriedly pick up the pills and pop them in my mouth before washing them down.
“What is it you think I want to talk about as soon as I open my damn eyes?”
“How about the dream that had you crying out in your sleep?”
My body stiffens as I place the water back on the coffee table.
Crying out?
My nightmares about Paul are a little different each time. Sometimes it’s like he’s chasing me. Sometimes he already has me cornered and I’m begging him to stop. Sometimes they’re memories. Sometimes he’s invading my present. Like the one that woke me just now. One thing always remains the same, though. The fear. That overwhelming anxiety someone will see us, that someone will see me for who I really am. When he was a part of my life, I lived every day with that constant worry weighing on me. All the lying and hiding I had to do took such a toll on me. It still does.
Unsure how else to respond, I narrow my eyes and flip him the bird, hoping he can’t see the heat rising on my cheeks.
“Okay then. How about last night? Do you want to talk about what had you so upset?”
“Nope.” He sighs as I stand and pick the blanket up off the floor, folding it neatly as an excuse to keep my gaze away from him. “Look, I appreciate you picking me up and letting me crash here, but you’ve completed your boy scout duties. I’m fine now.”
“You don’t have to carry everything alone all the time, you know. You have people who care about you and are willing to help with the weight of it. And for future reference, I’m one of them.” My chest tightens, my eyes glossing over with tears as they slide back to him. He gives me a warm smile and gestures toward the kitchen with his head. “Come on, there’s a fresh pot of coffee and the cinnamon rolls will be ready soon.”
He pushes himself off the wall, turning to walk into the kitchen as I groan. “You’re the oddest person I’ve ever met,” I call after him.
Spencer
It’s quiet as we eat breakfast, but I don’t mind. Having Lori here feels a little more natural than it probably should. I’ve tried to keep my eyes off her, but the sunlight streaming in from the patio doors is hitting her like a spotlight, giving her a glow. She looks beautiful. You’d never know she was wasted the night before or cried herself to sleep.
She has no clue I heard her last night, no idea how hard it was for me to stay away. I wanted nothing more than to hold her, but we’re already in dangerous territory simply by her being here. Even our friendship seems a little risky.
“I’ve always thought I was a cliché.” I stop mid-bite and look across the table at Lori, who’s still staring down at her plate, poking at the cinnamon roll with her fork. She’s barely made a sound since she came into the kitchen, so I hadn’t been expecting her to initiate conversation. Before I can even finish chewing my food enough to speak, she goes on to answer my unspoken question. “You know, I thought maybe my issues with men stemmed back to my daddy issues—that my need for Daddy’s affections had driven my poor decision making. But Julianna has always been his favorite. She shits diamonds and farts rainbows as far as our father is concerned, and it didn’t change anything for her.”
I have no clue what she’s talking about. I’m only guessing it has something to do with what happened last night. “Well, I personally like to blame all my issues on my parents.”
Her eyes flicker over to me, her lips curling into a crooked smile. She sits back in her chair and crosses her arms. “Oh yeah? The boy scout has issues? Do tell. This should be interesting.”
I put my fork down and scratch my beard, mimicking her posture. “Everyone has issues, Lori.”
