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“Nolan?” I question, his name sounding like it’s been dragged through shattered glass.
“That’s right,” he replies, shifting to turn on one of the bedside lamps.
Soft yellow light chases away the darkness, and my breath slowly returns as my gaze sweeps over the familiar, minimalist furniture.
Sitting upright beside me, he carefully takes one of my hands and drags it over the fluffy, black comforter, grounding me in the present. “Where are you?”
“Your room?” I croak, my throat feeling like it’s made of sandpaper.
“Good,” he murmurs, his free hand rubbing gentle circles along the base of my spine. “Now, what town are we in?”
The sticky cobwebs of my nightmare begin to fade while I try to focus on the answer. “Um… Twin Cedar Pass.”
“Correct. Now, a hard one. Why were high heels first worn?” he asks, teasing the part of my brain that knows weird facts.
I chuckle, the sound wet and husky. “Men wore them as a way to keep their shoes in their stirrups when riding horses.”
“I’ll have to take your word for it,” he jokes, and then he gathers me into his arms, kissing the top of my head. For a couple minutes, we sit and listen to the drizzling rain outside—no doubt a result of my nightmare. Once my breathing evens out and my heartbeat falls closer to my resting rate, he murmurs, “Do you want to talk about it?”
“It’s okay. Let’s go back to sleep,” I reply, despite being too scared to close my eyes. “You need your rest.”
Nolan sighs, but instead of lying back down, he adjusts the pillows so he can sit up more comfortably. Dipping his arm under my legs and around my back, he drags me into his lap. I squeak in surprise, but I don’t fight him, giving into my need to feel him around me. With my side pressed against his bare chest, he guides my head to rest on his shoulder.
“Yes, I get tired easily,” he concedes, wrapping his arm around my waist while the other rests on my bare thigh under the blanket, “but I also know my limits. It’s okay to lean on me. I won’t break.”
I press my face against his neck and shudder. The sharpened nails of the memories scrape across my mind, tearing me down to the frightened girl who begged for death. “He was always at his worst on my birthday,” I confess, my voice a sad whisper. “More manic. More frustrated. More creative.” Squeezing my eyes shut, I fight my building tears, but the nightmares live within the dark. They come to life behind my eyelids, a visceral highlight reel of torture that lives like bruising fingerprints on my soul.
Nolan runs his fingers through my sleep mussed hair, the gentle tugs dragging me back to the present. “What was tonight’s nightmare?”
“My fifteenth birthday,” I answer, opening my eyes and swallowing down the emotions clawing at my throat. A bitter laugh escapes me. “It wasn’t even my worst one, but I remember how angry he was by the end, as if I was intentionally failing him…” Tears fall in hot, wet trails down my face and drip onto Nolan’s shoulder. “It’s sick, but I was ashamed, like everything he was doing was a test I was too stupid to pass.” My hands clench into fists on my lap, the fabric of my oversized shirt wrapped around my knuckles. In a voice so quiet I almost make no sound at all, I admit one of my most shameful truths. “As much as I hated him, I still wanted him to love me… to be proud of me.”
His fingers dig into my thigh. “Love, look at me.”
I sit up, but it’s a fight to do as he asks, my eyes weighed heavily with humiliation.
He cups my face with both hands, his thumbs brushing away my tears. “There’s nothing wrong with wanting to be loved. Everyone needs to be loved in some way—romantic, platonic, or familial.” Pressing his forehead to mine, he whispers, “And you are loved in more ways than I can put into words.” He kisses me gently, as if I’m something precious to be savored. “With every breath I take, I love you more than I thought it was possible to love anyone.”
“Even now when I’m a splotchy, drippy mess?” I ask, realizing how terrible I must look while he’s whispering such sweet things.
A smile curls one side of his mouth, and his voice lowers as he murmurs, “Especially now.” One of his hands slides down my throat and journeys to my heart. “For a long time, I was dead inside, and I liked it that way. It meant nothing could hurt me, but then I met you.” His nose brushes against mine, the smile spreading to the other corner of his mouth. “Beautiful, stubborn, and unashamedly, gloriously filled with life.” He looks into my eyes with haunting sincerity. “Since the moment I met you, all I wanted was to bathe in your light. You make me feel clean again.”
I reach up and softly brush my fingers along the sharp planes of his face, overwhelmed by the amount of love I feel for him. “Nolan, you were never dirty to begin with.”
His fingers spread wide on my chest, and my breath hitches. Tingles of awareness radiate from his touch as desire stirs low in my belly. Unconsciously, I lean into his hand, wishing we were skin to skin.
He breathes in my scent, his nostrils flaring, as his gaze drifts to where his hand rests just over my breast. “I know this is horrible timing, but I want you so badly right now.” His thumb brushes against my lips. “I want to show you how much I love you in ways words can’t express. If you don’t want to, I understand…”
“I want you too,” I insist, my hand falling from his face to his bare shoulder. As if they have minds of their own, my fingers begin to trace the lines of lean muscle along his upper arm. “I don’t want to think of the past anymore. I want to make some happy birthday memories.”
His hand drifts lower, and he begins to tease my breast through the thin fabric. A soft gasp falls from my lips when he gently pinches my nipple between his long fingers.
Nolan’s voice drops to a lower octave that wraps around me like smooth silk ribbons. “Tell me how you want me. What kind of memories would you like to make?”
My breath catches as my mind conjures all the ways I’ve imagined touching him and him touching me. Heat builds in my cheeks as the truth catches in my throat. I want him in all ways, but how do I say that? How do I ask for things that go beyond the line we made for ourselves?
Nolan trails kisses up my neck, along my jaw, and finally to my ear, whispering, “Whatever it is you’re thinking, I want it too.”
“How can you if you don’t know what it is?” I question, my words breathy pants as he continues to tease me through my shirt.
