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I drop my hands from his face and stiffly stand, moving over to my bag to search for something else to sleep in.
“That must have been a pretty nasty nightmare.” He doesn’t outright ask, but I can tell Ben wants to know what I dreamed about.
Usually, I only discuss it with Marcus. But my brain has never replaced my brother with someone else before.
What does that even mean?
All I have left in my bag are the clothes I planned to wear in the car tomorrow, which I really don’t want to sleep in.
Maybe there are other benefits to more.
“I’ll tell you about it if you lend me a shirt to sleep in. I have the unfortunate habit of sweating a bit when I have nightmares.”
Ben doesn’t hesitate to head over to his bedroom. I check the clock and find the glowing numbers read 2:23 a.m. Second night in a row I’ve woken him up for no good reason.
When he returns with a soft white T-shirt, I tamp down my urge to kiss him. I want to change out of my sticky clothes first.
“Turn around.” In the faint glow of the digital clock, I see him smile before he complies.
I peel off the tank top and pajama pants, tossing them in a corner to be dealt with in the morning, and then slip the clean cotton on. Much better.
“I’m decent.”
The moment he turns back to me, I wrap my arms around his waist, still needing some more reassurance. Ben leads me back to the bed, tucking us both under the covers. He brushes my hair behind my ear and stares down at me. Waiting.
“Sometimes—not every night, only sometimes—I dream about the night my grams died. She had a heart attack when it was just her, Marcus, and me in the house. We found her when it was too late to do anything. She was just gone.” I breathe in deep and slowly let the air back out. “I dream about that night, walking into her bedroom. Only, in my nightmare, I don’t find her in the bed. I find my brother.” Or at least, I usually do.
I shiver, and Ben pulls me closer, planting a kiss on my forehead.
“I know it’s just a dream, but it guts me every time. Usually, I call Marcus, just so I can hear his voice. Know that he’s okay.”
“Do you want to call him now? I can grab your phone.” He moves to get up, but I tug him back.
There’s no need, seeing as how Marcus wasn’t the one I left sinking into that hole of terror this time.
“I’m okay.”
“Is there anything you need?”
I shake my head. “You got me a shirt. I’m good.”
In the muted light from the clock, Ben’s worried frown carves shadows into his cheeks. I use one of my fingers to push at the corner of his mouth until he gives me a reluctant smile.
“Seriously, Ben, I’m good now.”
He sighs before tucking me in close under his chin. “Okay. Go back to sleep. And, if you have another nightmare, I have plenty more shirts.”
20
HOLLY
The oven lets out an insistent beep, announcing to the kitchen it’s preheated.
“Now, put this in and set the timer for an hour. Really though, you’re looking for the cheese to be bubbling on the top. That’s how you know it’s done.” Terra hands me a dish filled with all the components for chicken Parmesan.
I’ve just finished setting my egg-shaped kitchen timer when our apartment intercom buzzes.
My roommate gives me an impish grin before going to press the respond button. “Who may I ask is calling upon the Donovan-Foster residence?”
