Page 50 of Sticks and Stones (Shadow Valley U)
“I’mfine.” I glare at him. “It’s fine. Everything is under control.”
He nods slowly and pushes off from the table. I go back to the paper I’ve been trying to write. What kind of accounting class requiresessays? The only saving grace is that it’ll eventually be useful. I’ve got most of my initial signing pay from the New York Guardians sitting in a high-interest account until I’m ready to use it. That was Dad’s accountant’s idea.
I guess I could just rely on accountants, but I’d rather know myself.
The upstairs hallway light goes off. Its glow was visible down the stairs, in perfect view from where I sit. After a few more minutes, I close the laptop. My head was starting to droop.
I flick off the light and pile my stuff up, heading to wash up in the upstairs bathroom. Even if I’m sleeping on the floor outside Wren’s door for the rest of the year, I can’t let my hygiene slip.
It’s when I’m on my way back that a sound makes my blood run cold.
Screaming.
I break into a run and slam into her door. It rattles, but it doesn’t budge. The knob turns, but she must’ve flipped the deadbolt.
“Fuck,” I growl.
Her screams are going to haunt my fucking nightmares.
I punch the door. Nothing. I mean, nothing apart from the terrified noises she’s making. I throw myself against the door again. And again.
Until something cracks.
One more time, my shoulder throbbing, and the door snaps under my weight. I stumble in and find her in the darkness. My chest tightens. There’s just enough light behind me to see her.
She’s curled in a fetal position, tear tracks down her cheeks, eyes squeezed shut as she fights off an invisible attacker.
“Wren.” I drop to my knees beside her, squeezing her arm. “Wake up.”
She flails. Her hand catches my jaw, whipping my head to the side. If I wasn’t so freaked out, I’d be impressed by her backhand. But she needs help being yanked out of this dream, seemingly locked in it.
I grab both her upper arms and shake her violently. “Goddamn it, Wren!”
She wakes and scrambles backward. I go with her, catching her head before she can knock it into the wall. I don’t need her to be traumatizedandconcussed. Her gaze is all over the place, her breathing wild. She’s hyperventilating.
“Look at me,” I order.
She’s trembling. Her mouth opens and closes, but it’s just sheer panic behind her eyes. I cup her face with both hands, catching her tears on the pads of my thumbs.
“Focus on my eyes, baby.”Baby. I ignore that and hope she does, too.
I focus on my breathing. Her hands come up and squeeze my wrists. I exaggerate my inhales and exhales until she copies me.
“You’re safe.”
She finally seems to come back to herself. And when she registersme, she doesn’t push me away. No, she fucking drags me closer. She winds her arms around my neck and buries her face in my shirt, hiding herself.
My heart cracks.
She was in here fighting for her life in her dreams.Alone.
I can’t leave her. I scoop her up into my arms, ignoring how light she is. How reminiscent it is of the time I carried her to the tub—but then, it was out of spite. And maybe a little bit of lust. This is all concern.
The hallway light is on, and I squint at the brightness.
Archer and Sully stand in the doorway, eyeing the splintered pieces of wood. The deadbolt that ripped clean through the frame.
“Jesus Christ,” Archer mumbles.