Page 39 of Hope and Country

A soft knock on my bedroom door woke me up from my deep slumber. I ran a hand over my face and blinked, adjusting my vision to the darkness.

“Hey Riley?”

I lifted myself on my elbows and searched the room, the sound of Devon’s voice powerful enough to chase away the slightest trace of sleep.

“Are you all right?” I asked, my voice rough.

“Yes. No. Don’t know. I’m sorry to bother you. It’s the third time this week. I just—I don’t—”

I cleared my throat. “It’s fine.” I scooted to the side and flipped the covers over. “You can sleep in here. I don’t mind. Listen, you’ve been here one week. The trauma won’t go away so soon. Give it time. You may need help. Someone to talk to.”

Devon took tentative steps into the bedroom, her ragged breathing the only sound I could hear.

“I dreamed of Robbie. The first hit. Then the time he broke my bones the first time. It felt so real. As if I was reliving those moments again. And again. My body hurt. He strangled me. I couldn’t breathe. He called me names. Dragged me out of that bar. Pulling at my hair.” She choked on the words as emotions laced through them. “It’s silly. I know it’s just a stupid nightmare.”

Devon sat on the edge of the mattress next to where I lay.

I grabbed her quivering hand in mine, her touch warming every cell in me.

“Robbie won’t get away with it this time. My lawyers are out for blood. They’ll get him arrested. For real. And I’m sure the P.I. we hired will find all the proof to convict him too. Trust me. Robbie will never hurt you ever again.”

“I want to. I really do, but—” Sobs drained her words. I moved back a little, and Devon settled next to me, her back to my front.

“Why are you helping me? You have nothing to gain. How can you be so selfless?”

“The fear that flashed in your eyes on the night we met—when Robbie pushed you into the elevator car—it haunted me for months. I spent days and nights looking for you. Call it a hunch, but I could tell the man was trouble. I won’t be at ease until I know he can’t hurt you—or anybody else—ever again.”

Devon squirmed closer and nestled her body into mine. The scent of her honey shampoo soothed me.

“Can you hold me please?” she asked between sniffles. “I really wanna feel safe right now. I need you.”

My arms wound around her waist, and I swallowed hard as she sank herself deeper into my embrace, her hands clutching mine as if she feared I’d vanish.

Entangled together, we both drifted back to sleep.

* * *

“How are the ribs?” I asked as Devon exited the guest bedroom, dressed in skinny jeans and a teal knitted sweater one week later.

A smile stretched her lips. “Better. The bruises are fading. Another week and I should be all good.” Seriousness took over her face. “About last night—”

She came to my bed in the middle of the night again, nightmares disturbing her peace.

“It’s all good. I’m here whenever you need me.”

Devon neared me in the kitchen as I poured two cups of coffee and offered her one. In the two weeks she’d been here, we'd found our way around each other.

We stood face to face.

The air between us warmed.

For a few beats, we stared at each other without a word. My eyes traveled from her neck to her lips.

A soft flush crept on Devon’s cheeks, and she averted her gaze.

I breathed easier when she stepped outside my bubble, our proximity doing weird things to me.

“Thanks. For the coffee,” she said, breathless.