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Fear clutches my chest.

What if I screwed up? What if he thinks I’m the one hurting him?

“Erik,” I start, working to keep my voice calm. “It’s Tate. You’re in bed?—”

Then he jerks up in bed, breathing hard, his chest rising and falling in uneven gasps.

I can see the moment reality replaces the nightmare. His gaze refocuses. His features jolt with recognition.

Then he looks at my wrist, still trapped in his hold.

Horror washes over his face. He immediately releases me and groans, “Oh shit, Tate. Fuck. I’m—” He takes my wrist back in his hand, turning it gently as he inspects it. “Fuck. I’m so sorry.”

“I’m okay,” I assure him. “You didn’t hurt me.” And he didn’t. He may have startled me, grabbing me like that, but his grip was firm, not punishing.

And really, it was my own fault. I’m the one who woke him up. If I’d just left him alone, he would have come out of the nightmare on his own, and he wouldn’t have that agonized look on his face right now, like he hates himself for what he did.

“Tate.” It’s rough. Pained. “Ah, shit. I’m so fucking sorry. I knew I shouldn’t—” He turns my wrist over again, his thumb grazing across my skin. “I should have gone home to sleep. This is my fault. I’m so?—”

“Erik.” Firming my tone, I wait until his gaze is back on me before continuing, “This is not your fault. At all. I woke you up. And you didn’t hurt me.”

He grimaces. “Maybe not. But I scared you. Don’t tell me I didn’t. I can tell.”

“You didn’t,” I protest, though hedidscare me a little. But I won’t tell him that.

“I did. Don’t you think I know what you look like when you’re afraid?” Regret creases his forehead and drags his mouth down. “I’m so sorry, Tate. I should probably—” He starts to get up.

“No.” I grab his arm and yank him back down. The nightlight in the corner of the room casts a faint glow across his face, revealing his tortured expression. “I care about you. I don’t know if I can help. But I’d like to try. Even if it’s just laying together. Don’t leave.Please.”

“Oh, Tate. How can I say no to you?” Settling back onto the mattress, Erik takes both my hands in his. His thumb traces across my wrist again, as though he’s searching for some hidden wound or scar. On a deep breath and exhale, he says, “I couldn’t bear it if I hurt you. That’s why I wasn’t sure about staying the night.”

“So you have nightmares like this a lot?”

He nods. “At least a couple times a week. Some weeks I’ll have more, especially when I have a lot on my mind. Or if something triggering happened recently.”

“What would be triggering?” I ask. A beat later, I make a little face and add, “Sorry. You don’t have to tell me.”

“No. I should. If we’re going to be together?—”

Insecurity flares. “I thought weweretogether?”

“We are,” he replies quickly. “I didn’t mean it like that. Just that… Well. There are things we haven’t talked about yet. Not that I’ve been trying to keep secrets from you. It’s just with so many other things going on already… I didn’t want to ruin the times we’re just enjoying being together by dredging up more shitty things.”

“I get it. We haven’t known each other that long. Even though”—I lean forward to kiss him—“it feels like I have. But it takes time to learn everything about each other.”

“True.” A faint smile ghosts his lips. “But you’re right. It feels like I’ve known you much longer.”

As we look at each other, something passes between us. Something that goes deeper than desire or affection. Something that makes my heart jump.

Love?

Not just falling, but already there?

Before Erik, I would never have believed it. That I could love someone after only a couple of weeks.

Now? I’m a convert to the falling in love right away idea. Toinstalove, as Julia refers to it when she talks about her romance books, and about how great it would be if it happened to her.

“I guess I should start with the nightmare,” Erik says, interrupting my meandering thoughts. “I was dreaming about the island. But it was different this time.”