Chapter 5

I WAKE with a gasp. My body is shaking, and I have to blink back the tears in my eyes.

The images of my nightmare are already fading from my mind, but that doesn’t stop the panicked feeling in my chest.

Where am I? What’s going on?

Light. I need light.

As I reach for the lamp on the nightstand, a familiar scent of sandalwood and oranges hits my nose. And as the light clicks on, pushing back whatever imaginary monsters are lurking in the dark, I relax a bit.

Last night’s events flood my memory. It’s not enough to completely calm my nerves, though.

I turn, reaching for Elliot, but I find the bed empty. My heart sinks. Where could he be?

The sound of soft piano music wafts through the bedroom. Is he still up? The clock on the nightstand tells me it’s a little after three.

I frown. I know I should go back to sleep, but my heart is pounding too fast, and my mind is too alert. If I lie back down in the dark, I’ll just get anxious and panicky.

That’s how this always works.

With a sigh, I slip out of bed and go to the bathroom. There’s a brand-new toothbrush set out on the counter, and I smile at the thoughtful gesture.

After peeing and brushing my teeth, I head toward the sound of whoever’s playing a piano. But I don’t make it past the bedroom door before my feet freeze.

The hallway is dark—dark dark. My skin prickles as my heart rate picks up again. I’ve never gotten over my childhood fear of the dark, and it always intensifies when paired with the nightmares I get when I’m stressed.

Wait. Why am I stressed again?

Oh, right—Adam.

I flick the bedroom light on and open the door wide. It floods part of the hallway with a soft, yellow glow. Then, with a cautious step outside, I peer at the surrounding walls for a light switch.

Of course, I don’t find one.

My fingers dig into the doorframe. You can do this. You’re not a little kid. There’s nothing that’s going to hurt you.

The sounds of a faint conversation drift by, along with the music. I’m pretty sure it’s coming from downstairs.

Maybe if I run fast enough, I won’t get too scared.

It’s a bullshit thought, and I know it. But I can’t just stand here forever, and going back to bed until I have an anxiety attack is somehow even less appealing.

So, with a deep breath, I take off down the hallway. The light from the bedroom fades as I turn around a corner. If I’m remembering correctly, the stairs are over here somewhere.

The music is getting louder, and I hear someone laugh. My breathing gets heavier as I take the stairs slowly, too afraid of falling to go quickly.

When I reach the bottom, the back of my neck is prickling. It feels like someone—or something—is going to snatch me into the darkness.

But I can see a faint light coming from farther in the house, so I take off again. When I finally burst into the room, the music stops immediately.

“Princess?” Oliver stands from the piano bench, stalking toward me when he sees the panic on my face.

I run to him, jumping into his arms with a sob. My legs wrap around his waist as he holds me. “I woke up alone, and everything was so dark. I—I got scared.”

His arms tighten around me as he moves to the piano bench and sits back down. One of his hands runs up and down my back while the other holds me securely. “Fuck, Wren. You’re shaking so badly. Is this just from being scared?”

I bury my face in the crook of his neck. “I get nightmares when I’m stressed.”

Embarrassment creeps up onto my face. I’m acting like a kid. And I knew this was going to happen tonight—why did I just magically forget when Elliot asked me to come home with him?

“That’s awful,” Oliver murmurs. “Do you need anything? Water? Food? A blanket?” His fingers skim my bare legs, and I realize I’m in nothing but a T-shirt.

I frown, thinking. Do I need anything? Normally when this happens, I just turn on a light and read to distract my mind until I’m tired again.

But then I remember something, and I gasp, clinging to Oliver. “I heard voices!” I scan the room, looking for Rhett or Elliot. But all I find are a few empty couches and chairs and a lit fireplace.

Oliver just smiles softly, stroking my hair. “Voices? Or a voice? I was on the phone, Wren. There’s no one else here.”

But I can’t stop looking around, peering into every dark corner in the room.

Oliver grabs my face, turning me to look at him. “Wren. You’re safe. I wouldn’t let anything happen to you. I promise.”

My body finally relaxes as I look into his eyes, so genuine there’s no way I couldn’t believe him. “You were on the phone,” I murmur.

He nods. “With Elliot. He’s out working with Rhett. They’re on their way home.”

What a short shift. And what an odd time to be at work.

Oliver glances away, red filling his cheeks. “I . . . can’t really sleep when they’re gone.” He rubs the back of his neck.

So they do live together.

“You don’t work with them?” I run a hand through his hair, letting the feeling ground me.

“No, I do. But we didn’t want to leave you here alone.” He kisses the tip of my nose.

I tilt my head, watching him. It’s sweet—although this conversation is bringing up about ten more questions about what type of relationship these men have with each other.

“You’re still shaking.” He lifts me up and carries me to the couch, where he settles me on his lap with a blanket. “Are you tired?”

I sigh. My heart rate has returned to normal, and the feeling of the darkness chasing me disappeared the second Oliver’s arms wrapped around me. “I think I’m getting there.”

He kisses my forehead, and I quickly move to capture it with my mouth. He smiles against my lips. “Try to relax. I promise you won’t wake up alone again.”

So I do. With my head settled against his chest, I close my eyes. The sound of his steady heartbeat in my ear soothes me, and it’s not long before I’m drifting off to sleep again.