Page 35 of Meet Me in the Valley (Oakwood Valley #2)

If I could open my ears wider, I would, just so I can hear what she’s trying to tell me. I can tell she’s screaming at the top of her lungs by the way her throat hollows and strains, each vein bulging out of her neck. I’m afraid she might hurt herself.

Panic rises from my gut, working its way through my chest. The rain falls harder, sharper, stinging my skin the closer I get to her. I need to help her. I need to get to her.

Her hand reaches out to mine, fingers stretching toward me. I can see the bones protruding under the skin.

She no longer looks like morning. She looks like death.

As soon as the tips of my fingers reach her, sound crashes back into the world, piercing my ears with howling wind, heavy thuds of rain, and the most bloodcurdling scream from the woman before me.

“Logan!” she wails. Her fingers turn into ash, crumbling under my touch as the rest of her body disintegrates in front of me.

“No!” I shout back in a muffled voice, like too much peanut butter is stuck to the roof of my mouth.

My head feels as if it’s swimming underwater.

I no longer feel the wet mud between my toes.

All I see is a pile of ash where her body was.

I’m growing faint, swaying back and forth like a tree limb in a violent thunderstorm, when my body slowly turns into ash.

“Logan? Lo, wake up. Wake up.”

There’s a heavy weight on my chest as my eyes struggle to flutter open. It feels like someone took a mallet to my brain and smashed it to mush. Slow to wake, slow to respond. I have no idea where I am or how I got here until I smell her skin and feel her hair brushing across my face.

“Lo? It’s okay. It’s me. Hey, it’s me, babe.”

I come to, locking onto her eyes. It’s not a jack-knife reaction like I usually have when my nightmares come.

This is worse. It’s the slow, agonizing way my body chooses to wake me from it, paralyzed into the mattress for what feels like hours before I regain control of my limbs again.

Her fingers are brushing through the strands of my hair, easing me back into reality as my rapid breaths begin to slow.

I focus on her touch, her smell, the sound of her morning voice.

The weight of her on my chest calms me, and it’s then I realize it’s Tia. My Tia.

“Were you having a nightmare?”

I nod, stroking my thumb against her jaw.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Her voice is so soft and sincere that it makes my stomach flip. I’ve never woken up next to anyone during my episodes, but now that I have, I’m grateful it’s her.

“I’m sorry I woke you.”

She shakes her head. “It’s fine. You scared me, though. You were groaning like you were hurt. What happened?”

It’s too quiet in the room, just the sound of our shallow breaths and the soft electrical hum from the fridge. My phone sits on the nightstand, silent.

I sigh, pinching my eyes shut to fight off the drowsiness. “I forgot to put on my white noise last night.”

“Oh,” she whispers. “The ocean sounds?”

Tia knows I never sleep without the sound of calming ocean waves lapping against the shore, crashing into each other.

She’s known this as long as she’s known me, but it’s one rare thing about me she doesn’t know completely.

Not exactly a secret, but something new to discover that only she’ll know now.

The nightmares started shortly after my mom left. Often it’s the same recurring dream. I’m always in a field. It’s always raining. And I never reach her in time before she disintegrates into ash right in front of me.

My dad would hear me groaning, sometimes screaming in my sleep. He had the idea of playing white noise—ocean sounds—to help my restless brain. He knew I’d always loved going to the beach as a kid, where he had to often pull me away from the water because I never wanted to leave.

Now I sleep every night to the sound of the ocean so I don’t dream about her.

“Yeah. I have nightmares if I don’t play them before bed. I must’ve forgotten after we ate and I made you come two more times.” I rub the tip of my nose to hers, eliciting a dreamy morning smile. But her smile falls quickly, replaced with concern.

“What are they about?”

“My mom. It’s weird. I always wake up feeling grief. Like she died or something.”

Tia strokes my chest as my hand finds its way into her hair, absentmindedly playing with the silky strands. An easy comfort between us.

“She left you, Lo. A loss is a loss. She might not be dead, but losing her felt like she was.”

I hum in acknowledgement. I know she can relate. Losing her sister left a permanent wound, open and bleeding since the day she left. I guess for me, it’s the same. I just don’t like admitting it.

“We won’t go to bed without putting it on next time. I’ll make sure of it,” Tia says. As she lays her head down on my chest, my heart picks up speed.

Christ, this woman has me in an all-out free fall.

She says there’ll be a next time. A next time to fall asleep and wake up together. I can’t wait for next time. Something I never would have said before she shook up my world as I knew it. For the better.

“I’m sorry about your mom, Lo. It’s okay to miss her, even if you’re mad at her.” I can’t help but feel that Tia not only is talking to me, but to herself, too.

“You get answers today, baby. Are you ready for that?” I shift the subject to Nora because I know Tia is fighting a million thoughts in her head. If I can help quiet them for her, I’ll do just that. Whatever it takes.

“I do. And I am.” She turns her head to face me, laying like an angel right over my heart. “I don’t think I could face this without you. Thank you again for being here with me.”

We collide in a slow, soft kiss. Our tongues dance and tangle, already familiar with each other, always begging for more.

We spend most of our morning tangled in each other, naked and exploring each other’s bodies slowly. Sensually. The sun rises, painting Tia’s body in a glow that brings me to my knees. I get lost in her, falling deeper, surrendering completely to the love she gives me.

I only hope I can give it back to her the way she deserves. There can’t be secrets, and I still have one lingering over my head, stunting me with guilt.

But today is about her. I’ll be the man she needs me to be today.

Tomorrow, I’ll make sure I’ll be the man she needs for as long as she wants me.

No more secrets.