Page 93 of Even After Sunset

His breathing gets faster and his chest is rising and falling so fast it’s starting to worry me. I wonder suddenly if someone can get a heart-attack from an intense nightmare.

I don’t think so. I’ve never heard of it.

It still doesn’t make me feel any less panicky, though.

I reach over and turn on the light.

“Silas!” I shout. “YOU NEED TO WAKE UP!Please… Wake up!”

His body flinches, and he suddenly jolts upright. His eyes fly open, wild and flooded with horror.

Then they land on me. And he stills.

“You were having a nightmare,” I tell him. In case that wasn’t glaringly obvious.

He sucks in a shaky breath, dragging a hand through his hair. He glances around again, and the panic slowly fades. Then he falls back against the wall and drops his head into his hands. His breathing is still shallow and so fast; I can’t imagine how he hasn’t passed out.

He stays like that for a few minutes, his panting breaths the only sound in the room. I just watch him silently, aching and wishing I knew the right thing to say.

“FUCK!”he screams, and I wince, squeezing my eyes against the tears that are threatening to spill. I reach my hand out.

“It’s okay…”

My fingers brush against his arm, but he swats it away.

“I know it’s fuckingokay!” he barks.

I nod slowly, and then after a couple of minutes, I get up—because maybe he needs privacy right now more than he needs reassurance. I head into the kitchen, turning on the light above the sink, and get a glass out of the cupboard. I fill itwith water and walk back through the narrow galley between the kitchen and the bedroom.

Silas is still sitting in the same spot on the bed, scrubbing both palms across his face.

“Here,” I tell him. “I got you some water.”

He takes it but doesn’t look at me.

“Thanks.”

He drinks the whole glass in three large gulps, his Adam’s apple bobbing with every swallow.

“Did you want me to fill it up ag—”

“I’m good,” he snaps. And he swings his long legs over the edge of the bed and stands, brushing past me through the galley and into the kitchen. He snatches his plaid shirt off the couch, shrugging his arms into the sleeves. Then he pulls out his pack of cigarettes from the chest pocket as he pushes his feet into his boots.

He slips a cigarette between his lips. He’s cut back on smoking these past couple of weeks, and I cringe at the sight of it dangling so easily from his mouth.

“I’m going out for a bit,” he mumbles, stuffing the pack back in his pocket. Still not making eye contact.

He’s already lighting the end as he pushes the door open with his other hand. And I’m left standing in the bedroom doorway, my hand resting against the comforter that’s still soaked with his tears.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Jackie

Ifire up my laptop and try to get back into my cover design, but my heart isn’t in it and my thoughts are still on Silas. I get that he wants to be alone right now, but it doesn’t change the fact that I want to be with him. I wish he felt he could be vulnerable with me. And not ashamed of whatever it is he’s feeling.

When he’s still not back half an hour later, I go looking for him. And in another half hour, I head back to the camper, hoping I somehow missed him and he’ll be sprawled out on his bed, skimming through one of the guidebooks like he sometimes does when he has a hard time falling asleep.

But he’s not here.

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