Page 41 of Notorious

In the middle of the night, I’m awoken by noise and movement.

Johnny’s moaning loudly and thrashing around under the covers.

“Shh,” I say, trying to calm him but not wanting to get too close, because he’s a big man, and he seems to be having a nightmare. Or maybe some kind of episode? I have no idea.

He cries out, and the raw vulnerability in his voice makes my heart break. I turn on the light. Everything looks worse in the darkness. Ask me how I know.

“Johnny,” I whisper. “Hey. You’re okay. It’s okay. You’re here with me.”

He thrashes some more, but then he sits up, eyes vacant, roaring, “Goddamnit, no!” But then he seems to come to. He’s trembling, and a tear rolls down his cheek. He shakes his head and blinks blearily, then cocks his head. “What? Where am—? Aww, hell.”

“Hey,” I say quietly. “You were having a nightmare.”

“Didn’t mean to wake you.” He looks down at his hands. His torso is sheened with sweat.

“It’s okay,” I say. I want to ask what he was dreaming about, except I’ve been pushing him all day, ever since I found out his plans. And while I’m not going to stop trying to take care of him, he doesn’t have to tell me all his secrets. Us getting drunk-married doesn’t entitle me to that. Heck, being sober-married doesn’t necessarily mean people don’t keep secrets, though I’d like to think it would. “Maybe you can talk about it with the therapist,” I offer, hoping that won’t piss him off … but even if it does, he needs to learn that it’s normal to go to a therapist and share your truths with them. It’s not a sign of weakness.

Johnny huffs and turns onto his side, his back to me.

Well, shit.

I don’t want to touch him if he doesn’t want to be touched, but it’s amazing how dejected a big man can look when he’s curled up in the middle of a big bed at dark o’clock.

“Want me to keep the light on?” I whisper.

“I don’t need to sleep with the light on,” he snaps. “I’m not a child.”

“Never said you were. But you’ve obviously got a few demons that need slaying.”

“My demons respawn. Even if I get ’em, they come back.” Johnny’s back to sounding defeated.

I turn the bedside lamp off but go into the bathroom and turn that light on, then leave the door cracked so it serves as a night-light. I can almost hear Johnny side-eyeing me, but he can deal with me being a mother hen.

When I crawl back into bed, I face him, so we’re like a quotation mark. I still don’t touch him, even though I really want to. I want to feel his big, warm body against mine.

But what matters is what he wants. What he needs.

Holding in a sigh, I turn onto my other side, so that we’re facing away from each other.

A few moments later, Johnny rolls over and shuffles toward me. His lips tickle my neck. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “I don’t like anyone seeing me like this.”

“I’m not going to judge you,” I whisper.

“Yeah.” He doesn’t sound convinced.

I decide to just go for it. “If it might help keep the nightmares away, you can put your arms around me. I like having you close.”

“Even with me flipping around like a fish on a pier?”

“Even then.”

He hesitates for a moment, but soon one of his arms snakes under my neck, the other around my middle, as he spoons me. I relax instantly with his big, hot body tucked up against mine, and he seems to settle in, too. He rumbles something deep in his chest that sounds satisfied.

This. This is what I wanted.

Maybe it will make him feel better, too.

He kisses the back of my neck and my hair, and his fingers trace absent circles on my stomach. Not annoyingly. Gently.

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