Page 109 of Ex Somnis

I pull him into a hug, and his head drops heavily to my shoulder. I have to rearrange us to make it work, because he is enormous and awkward, but then my hand is holding steady on the back of his head as he cries into my shirt.

I don’t try to stop it. I hold him there below the window he nearly left this world out of and pat his hair, saying nothing.

His shaking eventually slows, and his breathing evens out by degrees as he comes back down. When he’s still and quiet, I pull away enough to look at him.

He looks terrible, which is expected, but I don’t tell him so.

“Let’s go downstairs, grab some water for you. Then you can prove to Ridge you’re not dead.”

Nevan nods and drags a hand across his face as we both stand. When we make our way back down, Ridge is sitting at the base of it, arms crossed, ready for a fight.

“Paul,” he spits out. “I am simply saying that if there were a stairlift, which there is not, due to an as of yet unresolved promise.”

A choked sound comes from behind me, almost a laugh, and I smile over my shoulder at Nevan.

“See? This asshole was very worried about you.”

“As if you weren’t, dickhead,” Ridge grumbles. “What the hell happened?”

Ridge goes quiet when Nevan comes to a stop beside me. He sweeps his gaze over him, assessing, and when he gets to Nevan’s face, his expression has lost its sharpness.

“You okay, Nevan?”

When Nevan doesn’t answer, I step in. “His subconscious decided jumping out the third-floor window was a reasonable idea.”

Nevan cringes, and Ridge’s jaw tightens.

“That has to be This Man’s doing.”

“There was a man,” Nevan says, his voice still a little unsteady. “In the dream. I got lucid, thanks to Lennon, but then he was just there, and he made me walk up the stairs, and I couldn’t stop it, I couldn’t. Lennon tried to stop me. She kept trying, but she couldn’t, and then he…” He exhales a long breath. “He told me to jump.”

“I will beat his fucking ass,” Ridge mutters, his hands balling into fists. “Was Lennon okay?”

“Yeah.” Nevan nods. “I don’t think he would do something to her. It sounded like he needed her.”

“He does.” I know he does.

“That was him?” Nevan looks between us. “The one keeping Tessa asleep?”

We nod.

He takes that in. “Scary motherfucker.”

“Yeah,” Ridge agrees. “He is.”

I squeeze Nevan’s shoulder, then go to the kitchen to fill a glass of water for him. I take it back to Ridge’s room, which has somehow turned into the place we stay. Sitting on the edge of the mattress beside Lennon, I hand the water to Nevan, who wraps both hands around it, but doesn’t drink it yet.

He’s still trembling. Not the full crash-shaking of before, but still. I put my arm around his shoulders without announcing it, and he goes still, like he’s not sure what to do with that before he exhales, leaning into it.

Ridge watches us with an expression I would describe as neutral. “Did you grow up without a positive male influence, kid?”

Nevan frowns. “Doesn’t everyone?”

Ridge huffs what might be a laugh. “I had one.”

“I didn’t,” I say with a shrug.

Nevan is quiet for a moment, then he puts the glass down on the floor before he starts wiggling his fingers. I can see the thought moving through him, the restlessness, and hands that need something to do.