Page 32 of Governor

“I’ll even take it easy on you the next morning. We’ll walk instead of run.”

When I look, I spot his smirk. “You’re a real pal, big brother.”

He grins. “I try.”

I can’t go to sleep yet. Long after Carter’s turned off his lamp and presumably rolled over to go to sleep, I’m perusing information from links in the class syllabus with my earbuds in as I listen to music.

This isn’t my only class this year, but I know it is, by far, my favorite.

Even though it’s only our first day of classes.

Carter makes it enjoyable—Susa makes it perfection.

It’s after midnight when I shut my laptop down. Even with the earbuds in, I hear Carter. He had a nightmare last night, waking me up, but I cleared my throat and he immediately awakened.

Tonight’s noises on a scale of one-to-ten sound like an eleven, making last night’s maybe a one. Ripples of gooseflesh sweep over me as I listen. It’s a low, guttural moan, pained, worse than anything I’ve heard from him so far.

Sitting up, I remove my ear buds and realize he’s also sobbing.

My pulse spikes. This feels…bad.

Reallybad.

I clear my throat and set my laptop on my desk, but whatever demons have Carter locked in their grasp are pretty damn strong tonight. I get up and walk around the bookshelves. He’s on his stomach, the sheet tangled and twisted around his legs. One pillow is on the floor, the other is over his head.

I keep my voice soft, not wanting to startle him. “Carter, it’s okay. Wake up.”

His whole body tenses as he freezes, seems to catch his breath, then he starts softly sobbing again, more controlled now. In relief that he’s awake, or because of his nightmare, I don’t know. Yet I can’t bear to simply walk away from someone so obviously in pain.

I walk over, grab his pillow from the floor, and sit next to him, holding the pillow in my lap and laying a hand on his back, between his shoulders. He’s drenched with sweat.

After a minute, he’s calmed himself. I draw my hand back when he rolls onto his side to face me. Even in the dim light, I can see how haggard he looks.

“Thanks,” he hoarsely says.

Lamely, I set his pillow on his bed. “You dropped this.” I don’t feel right simply getting up and leaving without making sure he’s okay first.

He sits up, and it puts our faces close, but I don’t pull away. “Thank you, Owen. I’m sorry I woke you up.”

“I wasn’t asleep yet. I was on my laptop. I’m sorry I didn’t hear you sooner.” I make a mental note to start leaving one earbud out so I can hear him.

He slowly nods and finally meets my gaze. In the dim light, his brown eyes look nearly black, and the haunted expression on his face tugs at me.

This is a man who’s been through hell and just relived it.

“You don’t have to do my laundry,” he finally says. “I have a feeling I’m going to be putting you through hell this year.”

“I don’t mind.” I offer him a smile. “I moved here from Hell. This is like a vacation. And I’ll make you a deal in return.”

“What kind of deal?”

“I’ll do your laundry as long as you promise to ride to Orlando with me any time my presence is requested.” I offer him my hand. “Deal?”

He looks at my hand for a long moment before taking it, squeezing, but like he’s reluctant to let go for fear that his nightmare might suck him down again. “Deal,” he says.

* * * *

We walk the next morning. Carter’s not limping as badly as our first day out, but I can tell he didn’t sleep well, even after the nightmares. We set out early, while it’s still relatively cool, and none of our pod mates are up and moving yet.