Page 59 of Waste of Worth

Silently, she placed her palm over his racing heart, and he soaked that feeling in for a moment.

Just her hand over his heart.

Calming him.

“Bad dream,” Dino said at her questioning stare.

Karen nodded slowly. “I got that.”

He almost wanted to feel embarrassed, given what he knew about how he could act in the midst of his nightmares. Sometimes he talked a lot, other times he thrashed about, and drenched the bedsheets in sweat.

It was why he fought sleep as much as he could.

He’d thought he’d be okay with Karen—he had been before.

“It happens a lot?” she asked.

It came off like a question, as though he had some control in whether or not he wanted to answer, but just by the look on her face, he could tell she had already drawn her own conclusions. That was fine, because he figured it was probably obvious, given his odd nature about certain things, especially sleep.

She’d mentioned on more than one occasion that he didn’t sleep nearly enough.

“‘A lot’ would imply I get a break from it,” Dino settled on saying.

Karen winced, but she didn’t try to hide it from him. “Have you ever thought about talking to someone for it?”

Dino shifted higher on the bed until his back was resting against the headboard, and used his arms as a pillow. Karen mimicked his position, albeit she didn’t move far from his side. He stayed quiet for a long while, considering how exactly he wanted to answer her question. She didn’t mean anything bad by it, he was sure of that fact, but it still didn’t sit right with him.

“I don’t talk about it with myself; I’m not about to go to someone else,” he said.

“Ever?”

“No.”

“Why?” she pressed gently.

Dino sighed heavily, scrubbing a hand down his bruised face. “A lot of reasons. None I’m particularly willing to share.”

He was well aware he sounded like an asshole in that moment. He wouldn’t blame Karen a bit, had she demanded he get the hell out of her bed and her life. However, like she always did, she managed to surprise him.

“What about the … other stuff?”

Dino’s brow furrowed. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Karen fingered the hem of the sheets pooled at her waist, her gaze firmly stuck on her fiddling. Rarely had he seen her act nervous, but that action spoke entirely of unease. Dino didn’t know why; he’d never given her a reason to be nervous with him, or he didn’t think he had.

“Come on, Dino. It’s one thing to shut down because you don’t want to deal, it’s another to shut off because you can’t deal.”

Dino didn’t reply because he didn’t want to repeat himself.

Karen didn’t seem to mind. “If you don’t want to talk to a professional about your issues or the dreams because … whatever … that’s fine. Not understandable, but fine.”

“There’s nothing to talk about, Karen.”

“There is.”

“Nothing I’m willing to share.”

“You don’t have to share anything to admit you’re depressed, Dino.”