Chase Our Forever (Sutten Mountain #3)

39. Liv

39

LIV

I’m climbing the stairs from the basement to the main floor when a sound comes from the hallway that leads to Dean’s room. I pause for a moment at the top of the stairs, wondering if I’m just hearing things. It’s now been just over two months since I started as Clara’s nanny, but it’s only been a couple of weeks since it got too cold outside for me to sit on the porch, even with the space heater. We’ve been getting light dustings of snow, so now my new reading spot is in the basement.

Typically, Dean comes down there with me and works from his laptop, but he’d had an early morning and a day filled with meetings. Christmas is in a few weeks, and he’s been busy trying to get things done before the new year, so when he’d said he was going to go to bed early, I understood.

But as another sound comes from his room, I can’t help but wonder if he’s okay. A strangled cry comes from down the hall, making me take a step in that direction.

It’s been over a month since we kissed, and we haven’t done it again, even though it’s obvious we both want to. Although we haven’t given in to the temptation, I still feel closer to him than ever. Because of this, I continue down the hallway to Dean’s room just to listen and make sure he’s okay.

I’ve never been in his room. I haven’t needed to be. There’s nothing really down this hall except his bedroom, so I haven’t been down this way. I stop in front of his door and listen. Just when I’m confident that everything’s okay and I was just overreacting, another cry comes from his room.

My heart pounds with not knowing what to do. In the late nights Dean and I have spent getting to know one another, he’s admitted that he’ll still get nightmares occasionally. Although, they aren’t as frequent as they used to be. He even confided that sometimes they’ll be so loud that they’ll wake Clara up.

I press my hand against the door and grab the doorknob with my other. Clara’s having a sleepover with her cousins, but I still don’t want Dean to have to suffer through the nightmare if I can stop it.

I softly push the door open and take a hesitant step into his room. It’s dark. The only light in the room is the moonlight that filters through the opening of his curtains. He lets out another strangled cry as I carefully shut his bedroom door. I stand in place for a moment, trying to decide if this is a good idea or not.

He lies in the middle of his large bed. He’s pushed all of the blankets off him, leaving him in nothing but a pair of gray sweatpants that I’ve never seen before. Even with only a small amount of moonlight illuminating the room, I can see a sheen of sweat across his bare back.

Dean faces the opposite direction, so I can’t get a clear look at him, but I don’t have to see his face to know that he’s having a nightmare. Even in his sleep, his body is stiff, and the muscles on his back are bunched together.

I walk closer to the bed. My heart pounds, and I don’t know why I’m so nervous. If I was having a bad dream and he woke me up from it, I’d appreciate him. But he’s been in my room. He’s sat on the edge of my bed at the end of a long day, after putting Clara to bed, as we just talked about the most random of things.

I haven’t ever been in here. Something feels different about being in his room.

I push my worries about upsetting him by intruding on his personal space from my mind. If he gets upset, he gets upset. At least he won’t have to suffer through the nightmare longer than necessary.

As quietly and gently as possible, I press my knee into the corner of his mattress. I repeat the motion until I’m on the bed with him. I didn’t think this through. How do I wake him up? Do I whisper his name? Pull his body into mine?

I hadn’t come up with a plan. All I knew was I heard him having a nightmare, and I needed to stop it. His breaths are heavy as he hugs his pillow tighter, his body reacting to whatever’s happening in his dream.

Carefully, I reach out and place my hand on his back. I begin to rub circles along his back in an effort to comfort him.

“Dean,” I whisper, trying to get his attention but not startle him.

It doesn’t help. His body thrashes against the mattress as he mutters what I think is the word no against his pillow.

My hand travels up his back until I’m able to cup the back of his head.

“Dean,” I repeat, this time a little louder. “Wake up.” My heart hammers inside my chest. His hair is damp from the cold sweats of his dream.

“Please wake up,” I plead, hating the way his body shakes with whatever’s going on in his dream.

He startles as he abruptly pushes himself off the mattress while letting out a loud gasp.

His eyes immediately find mine, and all I can see in them is panic.

“Sunshine,” he croaks. His eyes frantically scan my face as if he’s trying to figure out if I’m real or a dream.

“I’m here,” I tell him, placing my palm to his cheek. “I’m right here.”

His chest rises and falls in rapid succession as he tries to catch his breath. As if he doesn’t believe that I’m actually here, he reaches up and grabs both sides of my face. His fingers tangle in my hair as he roughly pulls my forehead against his.

“You’re here,” he repeats. He says it over and over again, as if he’s trying to convince himself of the statement. “You’re okay,” he adds, his voice breaking.

My heart breaks at the sound. I don’t know what was happening in his dream, but whatever it was still infiltrates his mind as he tries to regain his bearings.

I nod my head, placing my other hand on his cheek until we’re both holding each other’s heads.

He closes his eyes for a moment as he takes a few deep breaths. I feel every long exhale against my cheek. “You and Clara were in the car, and I couldn’t stop it,” he gets out, his words strangled with emotion. “I couldn’t stop it. You were?—”

I slip my fingers underneath his chin and force him to look at me. “I’m right here. I’m okay. Clara’s okay. It was just a dream.”

He lets out a shaky breath before nodding. A tremor runs through his entire body, and it kills me. I sit back and pull his head into my chest. My arms wrap around him tightly as I hold him right against my racing heart to prove to him I’m okay and that I’m right here with him.

I don’t know how long we sit with his head cradled to my chest and his arms wrapped around my middle. I know it’s long enough for his breaths to slow and even out. When he speaks, I can feel the vibrations against my body.

“Fuck, Liv, did I wake you up?”

I shake my head. I run my fingers through his hair, trying to comfort him. “No. I was coming upstairs from the basement when I heard you. I didn’t know if you’d be okay with me waking you up or not, but your cries got worse, and I?—”

“I’m happy you came,” he interrupts. He presses his large hand into the mattress to prop himself up and line his eyes up with mine. “Thank you.”

My body relaxes with a sigh of relief. He isn’t mad that I barged in and woke him up.

He lifts his free hand and moves the long braid I’d put my hair in from my shoulder to behind my back. A small shiver runs down my spine when he traces a callused finger along my collarbone. “I was so fucking scared. You were just…gone in my dream.” He looks from where he touches my skin and brings his whiskey-colored eyes to meet my gaze. “I thought I’d lost you.” His voice is barely above a whisper, but it feels like he yelled it with the way I feel it throughout my entire body.

“Never,” I respond, my voice thick with emotion.

His eyes trace over my face for a moment. “Stay with me tonight?” he asks, the vulnerability obvious in his tone.

My breaths still with his request. I’ve never slept in the same bed as a man, but I can’t imagine leaving him alone in here after the fear in his eyes and voice.

I nod, even though I know lying next to him will just fuel the desire I have for him. It doesn’t matter. I can’t say no to him. I’d do anything he asked me to.

His entire body relaxes with a small nod of my head. Slowly, he lets his hand drop to the mattress. I watch him closely as he grabs the blankets from the end of his bed and pulls them up. He lies down facing me, sliding one hand underneath his pillow and lifting the other one to let me in.

“Can I just hold you tonight?” he asks quietly.

Without a second thought, I lay down next to him. He wraps his arm around me and, with one simple movement, pulls my body flush to his. He tucks his chin over my head and places his fingers to my neck as if he needs to feel my pulse against his fingertips to assure himself I’m here.

I don’t know how long I lie awake, but I know it’s long enough for his breaths to slow enough that I know he’s asleep. Eventually, sleep pulls me under right with him.