Page 21

Reign

A t exactly two in the morning on Saturday, while watching the end of a surf tournament for my favourite surf team, The Saltwater Shredders, my phone pings with an email notification from Terry.

I almost text the bastard and ask why he’s still awake but when I open the email, I find several video attachments of the new choreography along with his request that Angelique and I look them over together and come prepared on Monday to rehearse with him and Volkov.

Knowing Terry, he’s barely slept all week to complete the choreo in time.

Angelique went to bed hours ago, so I forward the email to her inbox so she can take a look in the morning, but minutes later I hear her room door creak open. I glance over my shoulder and see her walking down the hallway in another oversized T-shirt.

“Lord, help me,” I mumble, my eyes burning a path along her perfect bare legs. I turn around and hit the mute button just as my favourite surfer, Koa, comes onto the television for a post-race interview .

“I think we’re going to need to add a dress code to our rule list,” I say with a smirk, turning to face her again, but the words die on my lips when I see her.

Angelique’s eyes are vacant and downcast as she slowly walks around the open space, gently bumping into the couch before slowly redirecting herself to avoid it altogether.

“Everything okay, Angel?” I ask, slowly standing from the couch as she nears me.

She doesn’t reply, stopping in front of me and staring directly at my chest. My brows pinch together as I watch her, and we stand like that for a few seconds longer before I drift to the side to test something. As predicted, almost instantly she begins walking again.

“Are you sleepwalking?” I mumble, surprised when she stops and turns back around to face me.

Angelique’s empty eyes shine with unshed tears, and I feel a protective anger flare up inside me as I take long strides in her direction and pull her into my chest. Her arms slowly wrap around my centre, and she gently lays her head against my torso.

Under different circumstances, I might enjoy how right this feels. Having her in my arms. How perfectly she fits, like a missing puzzle piece finally clicking back into place. How she makes me feel whole in a way I don’t quite understand.

But, under these circumstances, I’m more focused on figuring out what’s haunting her mind to the point of crying. When I pull back moments later, her cheeks are streaked with tears, but her expression is still void of any emotion.

“I’m going to have to break your rule again,” I murmur, my voice low so that I don’t startle her awake as I gently turn her around and guide her down the hallway, back to her room.

She moves slowly, eyes still half-lidded. When we reach her room, I steer her toward the bed and help her lie back down. The moment her head touches the pillow, her eyes drift fully closed, and her breathing deepens instantly.

I cover her with the duvet before I sit on the edge of the bed and watch her. Long, dark curls spread messily across the pillow, wild and soft, and her face looks so peaceful now in a way I haven’t seen in years.

I allow myself to stay there for a moment, listening to the rhythm of her breath. First night terrors, and now sleepwalking? This isn’t normal. Something’s not right, and I don’t know how to fix it, or if she’d even let me.

My hands tighten into fists on my lap. I want to stay in her room and watch over her as if I can keep her safe from whatever is haunting her, but I leave her room when I’m sure she’s back to deep sleeping, softly closing the door behind me and walking back to the couch, ignoring the television completely now.

I turn on my laptop and do a quick internet search, not at all surprised to find that adult sleepwalking can be because of a trauma response. I feel myself begin to spiral, and before I think better of it, I pull out my phone and text Lando.

Me:

Are you awake?

Surprisingly, I don’t wait long for his reply.

Lando:

Woah, so you do remember how to use your phone. Proud of you, brother!

Me:

Can you meet me outside the gardens?

Lando:

Right now?

Me:

Yes.

Lando:

Is everything alright with Angelique?

Me:

See you in five.

I make it to the bench just outside the gardens in less than three minutes. Lando meets me there shortly after, wearing a long silk robe, and riding boots. I raise my brows, taken aback by his very un-Lando-ish outfit.

“Don’t even think about commenting on my outfit right now, Reign,” he warns, frowning at me as he takes a seat next to me, arms folded across his chest. “What the hell is going on that you had to meet with me right this very second, in the middle of the night?”

“Was I interrupting something?” I ask, sitting down next to him and leaning forward with my elbows resting on my knees.

“I may have someone over.” He crosses his arms and bristles.

“Sorry,” I offer. “But I just tucked Angelique back into her bed after she walked around the house.”

Lando blanches as he looks at me. “Stop, you’re scaring me. This is giving possessed scary movie vibes right now, and I’m already scared enough as it is walking through the halls of our house alone in the middle of the night. ”

I roll my eyes. “She’s not possessed, dumbass. She was sleepwalking.”

He lets out a relieved sigh, swiping at the sweat on his forehead. “Oh, thank God. I was ready to call for an exorcism.”

“Can you be serious for just one minute?” I snap.

Lando looks at me surprised, but he nods and falls silent, waiting for me to continue.

“I searched up what causes sleepwalking in adults,” I admit, sitting straighter now and looking at him. “And one reason listed was trauma.”

He averts his eyes right away, confirming my suspicion.

He knows.

“What happened to her, Lando?”

He tries to play coy. “What are you talking about?”

“She came back to Marlow broken and I can’t touch her without her having some type of reaction.”

Lando shrugs. “Maybe she’s a germaphobe.”

“Oh, don’t give me that rubbish,” I growl.

He makes an exasperated sound, running his hands through his hair, “Look, I wish I could tell you; I really do. But she’d feel so betrayed if I did.”

“How am I supposed to help her if I don’t even know what the fuck is going on with her?” I growl, closing my eyes and pinching the bridge of my nose to try to calm myself down.

“Why do you even want to help her? You never liked her, anyway.”

That catches me off guard. “Who says I never liked her?”

He frowns. “You literally ghosted her for five years.”

“That doesn’t mean I never liked her.”

“Right.” Lando scoffs. “So, you’re saying you liked her but just decided she wasn’t worth talking to for five years? After she lost pretty much everything and everyone?”

Guilt floods in. “Does she think I ghosted her because I didn’t like her?”

He shrugs. “She was hurt, even if she didn’t tell me. Aside from me, you were her closest person.” After a beat, he turns to look at me. “Why did you ghost her?”

I grind my teeth. “It doesn’t matter now. Whatever she’s going through is getting in the way of this performance,” I say instead.

Lando sighs, looking away from me, almost disappointed with my answer. “Well, she has to tell you what happened on her own,” he mutters.

“But you know what it is, right?”

He nods, and the silence stretches between us before I speak again.

“On a scale of one to ten, how bad is it?” I brace myself for him to say something like an eight or nine, but what he ends up saying is so much worse.

“Reign,” he sighs. “It breaks the scale.”

Hours later, Angelique walks out of her room, dressed for the day. She’s wearing tight acid wash jeans that make her ass look phenomenal, and a black long-sleeved top. Her hair is half up, half down, pinned back with a clip.

I couldn’t sleep at all after my conversation with Lando.

I came back to the guesthouse and paced outside her room for over an hour before forcing myself to go to my bed and stare at the ceiling for the rest of the night.

As soon as the sun rose high enough to colour the sky, I got ready for the day, and I’ve been sitting in the living room waiting for her to wake up ever since.

“Good morning,” she says, turning the kettle on.

I stare at her, still deciding if I should bring up the sleepwalking, but after remembering how spooked she got when I told her about her screaming in her sleep the other night, I decide against it—for now.

“You look rested.” I force a smile.

She pauses and studies my face. “I didn’t have another nightmare, did I?” she asks.

“Nah,” I say, swallowing down the words I really want to say. “Did you see the email I forwarded you from Terry?”

I stand from the couch and take a seat across from her at the island.

She nods. “I watched some of the videos while getting ready. Are we going to practice the new choreo together today?”

I shake my head. “I was actually thinking we could go on a—” I pause.

A date? Hell no, not using that word.

“A what?” she asks, looking at me with an arched brow as she pours the water from the kettle into a mug, a tea bag floating to the surface.

“A…field trip,” I say through gritted teeth, when no other words come to mind.

“A field trip?” Her lips twitch as she watches me. “Okay. Where to?”

“You’ll find out when we get there,” I say, standing up. “Finish your tea and meet me in the car.”

“Okay,” she replies, watching me stalk out of the house.

I climb into my car, glaring at the steering wheel. “A fucking field trip, really?” I mutter to myself.