Page 57 of Beneath the Mountain Sky

Her cries wrench from her throat as she punches and tries to push me away. But she’s no match for my strength—or resolve.

I hold her steady with one arm wrapped around her as I take her face in the other and squeeze her chin, twisting it up toward me. Ensuring the first thing she will see is me and not whatever is chasing her in her nightmare.

“Willow, wake up. Open your eyes.” I shake her gently. “Willow!”

Her eyes finally fly open along with her mouth on a surprised gasp. She frantically tries to pull from my hold before the stormy gray finally finds my gaze and holds it.

“Honeybee, I’ve got you.”

Willow sags against me, and her sob tears through my heart as she buries her face in my chest, wrapping her arms around my neck and snuggling close.

I lean back on the headboard and tug her fully across my lap. “It was just a dream.”

Instinctually, I squeeze her tightly, but she stiffens.

Shit.

Her ribs.

“I’m sorry?—”

She shakes her head, her lips and body trembling. “I don’t think it was a dream.”

Her words freeze me in place with my hand pressed to her back, holding her close. “What do you mean?”

A hiccupped sob slips out as she struggles to speak through her hysteria. “It was too real. I’ve never had a dream like that. I think…I think it might have been a memory.”

WILLOW

Silence fills the room for a few moments while Killian holds me as I try to gain control of my breathing and fight back the sobs that continue to wrack my body.

He gently rubs his hand up and down my spine, giving me time to process while being the rock he has always been to me.

Last night, he called me his compass, directing him to true north, but really, that’s what he’s been for me. Through all the turmoil in my home life, he was there. A friend. And then, he became more.

He became this.

After several minutes of the sound of my crying and ragged breaths, he leans back and cups my face gently, searching my eyes. “You want to tell me about it?”

I shudder.

Of course, I knew he would ask.

How could he not when we’ve been trying to get me to remember, praying it would happen?

There is no judgment in his gaze.

Only understanding, even though I haven’t told him anything yet.

He would let me say “no” and just keep holding me if all I want to do is cry. He would give me space if that’s what I asked for. He would do anything I want in this moment.

And as painful as it is, reliving the panic coursing through my system…I want him to know what I saw.

I swallow through the final sob, taking several deep breaths to gather the strength to tell him. “It was storming. Thunder. Lightning. I was soaked. The ground was cold under my bare feet. Rocks dug into them. Branches kept catching on my clothes and cutting my skin. I?—”

So cold.

So wet.