Page 23 of Pocketful of Us

He's alive.

Just stay calm…

Determined not to allow my fear to take hold of my ability to function a minute longer than it already had, I forced my mind to go blank and wandered into the one room in this sprawling mansion of a home that was out of bounds to everyone. It also just so happened to be the one room where I found comfort.

Slipping inside the toy ordained bedroom I assumed had been occupied by Raffaele's late son, Giacobbe, the one my father had butchered and my former betrothed, I quietly closed the door behind me and moved straight for the impressive fort in the corner of the room.

I had been in this room before.

I had played with the toys it housed many times.

It had been another lifetime ago, but I most definitely remembered.

Lowering myself onto my knees, I crawled through the tent opening, careful not to disturb its tender foundations with my less-than-childlike frame.

The moment I was inside, I rolled onto my back and settled down on the dust-ridden cushions that carpeted the floor.

Like every day since I started sneaking in here, I reached for the weathered looking, half-torn woman's shawl strewn on the floor and brought it to my nose.

Inhaling deeply, I absorbed the smell of musk, dust, and smoke.

Ash and cinders.

Flesh and bones.

Raven hair.

Blue eyes.

No, Mama, no!

Giacobbe…

Forcing the unwanted images from my mind and refusing to delve any deeper into mental desertion, I draped the moth-eaten shawl around my body and sighed.

Closing my eyes, I rested my hands on my growing stomach and immersed myself in my happy memories. I immersed myself in Sketch, refusing to think about anything but the boy next door.

"…All you have to do is dream of us instead…"

Releasing a sigh of temporary contentment, I began to recite the lyrics of The Everly Brothers'All I Have to do is Dreamin my mind over and over again, envisioning I was back in my bedroom in Pocketful and Sketch was singing me back to sleep after one of my awful nightmares.

Before I knew it, I was singing the words aloud, using my fired-up imagination to take me back home.

Back to Sketch.

We were together again.

Back in my bedroom.

I was his and he was mine…

"Hey, Ro…"

"Sketch, you're back."

"I never left, angel."

"I'm so scared."

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