Total pages in book: 213
Estimated words: 201920 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1010(@200wpm)___ 808(@250wpm)___ 673(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 201920 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1010(@200wpm)___ 808(@250wpm)___ 673(@300wpm)
She needs me, and I’m failing her.
The last door opens before I touch the knob. The light flickers on and off and then settles dimly in the center of the room. On Sam. But she’s not seated on the desk. She’s slumped against the wall, sitting on the floor by the closed, dark window.
Her eyes are sad and her face hollowed.
The darkness around her makes her seem pale and colorless.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers.
My body jolts upright as the silent scream tears through me.
My heart races and sweat covers my body. I can hardly hear Dean as he grips me harder, staring at me and pushing the hair out of my face. I can’t see or hear anything other than Sam.
It was like I was really there.
Like she was right there.
“Allison,” Dean says, his voice piercing through the memory. “Are you okay?”
He’s breathless, his fingers digging into my shoulder and his dark gaze pinning me in place. It takes me a long second before I realize he’s here with me. He’s here now. His palm brushes against my forehead again, pushing the loose strands of hair away from my face. He’s so warm and my body’s freezing.
I blink away the vision of the night terror and try desperately to calm my breathing as his hold loosens and I bring the covers up closer to my neck.
Her voice was so clear.
My breathing won’t calm. My chest heaves violently as I wipe my eyes and pull away from him. She was right there. Sam was right there.
“Talk to me,” Dean commands me but that’s just not possible.
Slowly, my heart calms.
“You were having a nightmare,” Dean tells me like I don’t know what happened. “It was just a nightmare.”
My head nods of its own accord as I slip back beneath the covers, seeking their warmth.
I can still feel the cold metal of the doorknob.
“Sometimes I have bad dreams,” I tell Dean. To stop his questioning.
“About what?”
The words slip from me immediately. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
I haven’t had a dream like that in a long damn time.
I haven’t fallen asleep so easily in just as long.
“Are you okay?”
He’s asked me that so many times in the last twelve hours.
“I’m fine,” I say. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry,” he tells me and it’s only then that his expression comes into focus.
My heart melts, slowly but with a heat that’s undeniable. “I just want to make sure you’re all right,” he says as he brushes my hair from my face. In this moment, I’m weak with want for him and his touch.
I didn’t know until this day what I’d do for him and how much he meant to me.
Maybe that’s why she came back to remind me.
To remind me of the promise I made to her and why I’m here.
“I’m fine,” I tell him. I know it’s a lie when I say it. A lie and a broken promise I’ve only just made. I should feel guilty. But I don’t. The other promise is more important.
I don’t feel guilty while I cup his cheek in my hand and brush my lips against his.
Not while I let him hold me.
Not even as he whispers he loves me into my hair when he thinks I’ve fallen asleep. And that’s what it is. Love. I feel it too. I’m not blind to it. I even accept it although I can’t have it. I can’t have Dean. This has gone on for far too long.
It’s not okay to be okay.
That would be the worst tragedy.
DEAN
“Bottoms up!” Kev says over the sound of the music echoing off the walls of the room. The bass pounds through my veins as I toss the shot back. Partially to let go, partially out of anger.
Allison fucking ghosted. Hasn’t been to her classes, isn’t returning my texts. The second we got back here, she left me high and dry.
My fist clenches around the empty shot glass as the whiskey burns down my throat.
I should have known better than to pretend she was fine.
I should have seen this shit coming.
“Ahh,” James hisses as he shakes his head, slamming the glass down on the coffee table. His face is scrunched even as he yells out, “Whoo!” as if he’s having the fucking time of his life.
And maybe the other assholes here are. As each glass hits the table, everyone around me seems lighter, happier, ready to party. That’s what this is. A party.
The air from my lungs leaves me as Kev’s hand pounds on my back.
“You my wingman tonight?” he asks me, lowering his face to mine as I hunch over the countertop. I follow his gaze to the set of brunettes across the room.
One with short hair and a bright pink tank top, while the other has her long hair pulled back and is wearing a short little black dress. They laugh as they spot Kev staring them down like they’re prey. They’re nothing like Allie. Kev can have them both. He nods and they blush, covering their faces with the red plastic cups of beer in their hands.