Page 32 of From the Wreckage

Everett

She’s asleep against me now, her head tucked under my chin, breath warm against my chest. Her necklace glints faintly in the moonlight slipping through the window, that tiny sunflower catching what little light there is.

My hand drifts over her back, tracing idle circles, even as the guilt gnaws through me.

She deserves more than this. More than me.

Grayson—her father—is quickly becoming a friend. The man trusts me. Looks at me like I’m steady, reliable, and someone worthy of his daughter’s safety.

If he only knew.

If only he saw the storm I’m barely holding back.

I close my eyes, my chest tightening. I’m not good enough for her. I’ll ruin her, the way I ruin everything I touch.

And yet—God help me—I don’t want to let her go. I want her more than I want my next breath. I want to keep her in my arms and never let the world touch her again.

I brush a strand of hair from her face, pressing a kiss to her temple. She stirs but doesn’t wake. I force myself to lie still, even though my pulse won’t settle. Eventually, exhaustion drags me under, and the dream comes fast and hard.

It’s dark. I’m behind the wheel, the headlights cutting through the night. Three of my teammates are crammed into the SUV with me, the air thick with booze and bad decisions. They’re laughing, voices bouncing around the cab.

“Man, you’re just pissed her man showed up,” Bryan snorts from the backseat, elbowing Matt. “You thought for sure she was gonna go home with you.”

Matt shoves his shoulder, grinning like an idiot. “Shut up, fucker. At least I found out before I went to her house. You were balls deep in Melody when her husband came home.”

Laughter fills the vehicle, the sound loud and sloppy, bouncing around the SUV. We’re all buzzed, drunker than we should be. I’m the most sober of the bunch—not that it means much, considering how many beers I’ve had.

I blink, rubbing at my eyes. Those pills I scored from Matt’s “friend” dull the ache that never leaves me, but they’ve got me floating. Untouchable.

For a second, the road doubles. My vision blurs, headlights smear into white streaks.

The curve ahead comes too fast.

I yank the wheel. The tires scream, the SUV fishtails, and someone shouts, “Shit, Everett!”

Oncoming headlights blind me. They’re too close. I jerk the wheel the other way.

The world drops out. We’re airborne.

A wild, twisted smile pulls at my lips. I’m flying.

Then gravity slams us back to earth.

Metal shrieks. Glass explodes. My head whips sideways as we roll, the world spinning, over and over. Screams fill the vehicle, raw and terrifying. I don’t know if they’re mine, or Matt’s, or Bryan’s. Maybe they’re Cole’s.

The SUV slams into a tree with bone-splitting force. Crunching metal drowns everything before the ringing starts. It’s so loud, it blots out the rest of the world.

And then, darkness drags me under.

I bolt upright, a strangled gasp tearing from my throat. My heart slams against my ribs, sweat dripping down my temples, soaking the sheets. Air rasps through my lungs, shallow and fast.

Beside me, the bed stirs. The familiar scent of wildflowers and vanilla washes over me.

“Everett?” Bri’s voice is soft, melodic, tugging me back from the abyss. She sits up, her hazel eyes wide in the dim light. “Are you okay?”

I force my lungs to work, dragging in uneven gulps. I nod, because words won’t come yet. My hands tremble against my thighs.

Her palm finds me, warm against my leg. “Are you sure?”

I finally look at her—and the panic recedes. My breathing’s still ragged, but not as sharp or suffocating as it usually is. I haven’t had a nightmare like this in months. Of course, the first time it happens, she’s here.

I pull her into me, crushing her to my chest, breathing her in. The wildflowers. The vanilla. Her.

We sink back against the pillows, her body molding against mine. I press my lips to her hair, whispering rough and hoarse against her crown. “I am now.”

Her fingers smooth along my chest, tracing mindless patterns over the sheen of sweat. Her voice is quiet. Cautious. “Do you want to tell me what it was about?”

The question cuts deep, but not in a way that hurts. In a way that tempts. For a moment, I almost give in. Almost let her see the wreckage I carry inside.

But I can’t. Not yet.

My arms tighten around her, my lips brushing her hair. “It was just a bad dream, angel. Nothing more.”

She shifts against me, her cheek resting over my heart. I know she doesn’t believe me, but she doesn’t press. She just stays, steady and warm, her breaths syncing with mine until the panic ebbs.

I bury my face in her hair, inhaling her like she’s oxygen. My voice is low and rough. “Go back to sleep.”

Her soft sigh seeps into me, unraveling the last of the terror. Within minutes, her body relaxes, her breathing steady and even as she drifts off again.

I stay awake longer, holding her close, pretending the nightmare was nothing more than shadows.

But even as her warmth steadies me, I know the truth.

One day, the past will catch up. And when it does, I’ll have to decide if I’m strong enough to let her see the whole of it… or if I’ll lose her when she does.