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I closed my eyes and savored his words. He was right. I turned my hand so we were palm to palm. “How did you get to be so smart?”

“I’ve been through things like this before. We came out stronger. We’re good.”

“In that case, go get the leftovers.”

He grinned.

The forest was dark, darker than it should be in daylight. My feet caught on roots, branches tearing at my clothes. I could hear her behind me, that sing-song voice that made my skin crawl.

“Joy! Come back to me. We're meant to be together!”

Glenda's voice echoed through the trees. I tried to run faster, but my legs felt like they were moving through molasses. The gunshot cracked through the air, and fire erupted in my shoulder. I fell, rolling in the dead leaves, and when I looked up, she was standing over me.

But it wasn't just Glenda. It was him too. The man from London. His face finally clear after all these years of nightmares. They stood side by side, both holding knives.

“You can't escape us,” they said in unison.

The knife came down, piercing my shoulder again and again. I screamed, thrashing, trying to get away, but my hands were tied with something. The more I fought, the tighter it became.

“Joy, wake up. Sweetheart. Wake up.”

I heard myself screaming, and pain shot through my shoulder as the phantom knife struck again. I fought against them, trying to get away, but I was trapped.

“No! You won't win!”

They wouldn't let go. I struggled harder, kicking out, my fists connecting with something solid.

“Joy. It's just a dream.”

I fought more, then suddenly the restraints loosened. My eyes flew open. The bedroom light was blinding. I could only see a shadow looming above me. I scrambled backward, my back hitting the headboard. My shoulder seared with real pain from the sudden movement.

The shadow shifted, moving slowly to the side, and the light caught his face. Graham. Just Graham.

“Honey. It was a dream. Glenda's dead. You were tangled in the sheets. You're okay.”

I couldn't stop trembling. My entire body shook like I was standing in a freezer. My t-shirt was soaked with sweat, clinging to my skin. Graham slowly reached out, his movements deliberate and careful. It was as if he knew that any sudden move would send me into a complete tailspin.

“Are you with me?”

“I-I th-think so.” My teeth chattered.

“Can I hold you?” he asked softly. My man. So gentle.

I nodded, not trusting my voice.

He approached me like I was a wounded animal, sliding onto the bed inch by inch. When his arms finally wrapped around me, I collapsed against his broad chest. His heartbeat was steady under my ear, and I tried to match my breathing to his.

“This is the fourth dream in ten days,” I muttered into his chest. “How can you put up with this?”

“Easily. Don't think I haven't woken up drenched in sweat, yelling my men's names. I understand.”

“What did you do?”

“Time.”

I shuddered. That was an awful solution. He must have read my mind.

“You went to counseling after your stalker in London,” he whispered into my hair. “Is there some reason you're not thinking about doing that this time?”