Page 208 of Keeping Kasey
“I left a letter on the desk in my room for you. It explains what happened while I was gone and why I left again. It’ll at least give more context,” she says with a grimace, and I know she doesn’t like the idea of anyone else reading that letter.
Neither of us says anything, but I know we’re both thinking about our chances. Even with our notes and hints, there’s nothing that will bring themhere.
“Logan?”
I kiss her hand. “Yes, beautiful?”
“Will you lie with me?”
She lies on most of the couch, but there’s just enough room that I should be able to join her without too much moving on her part.
I grab the comforter from the bedroom and return to the couch. She’s moved as far back as she can, and I lie down in the narrow space left, pulling the blanket over us. There’s not much space, but leaning over Kasey with my hands on either side of her will keep me in place with little effort on my part.
I didn’t realize how cold it’s become in here until we’re tucked beneath the covers, and a chill breaks out over my skin. I suppose keeping warm is as much of a plan as we can form right now.
I lay my head on the armrest, just above Kasey’s, and rest my chin against the top of her head. If I could, I’d pull her fully onto me, but for now, it’s enough to be near her.
“You can sleep,” I say. “I don’t think anything interesting is going to happen any time soon.”
I can’t tell if my words coax her closer to sleep or wakefulness, but her body visibly relaxes at the sound of my voice.
Her head just barely shakes. “I’d rather stay awake.”
The image of tissues on her bedside table appears in my mind.
“Nightmares?”
“I wish,” she murmurs.
“What do you mean?”
“Nightmares are easy. All you have to do to escape is wake up.” She swallows. “I have dreams.”
“What kind of dreams?”
Her pause is a clear sign that she doesn’t want to talk about it, but after opening up about everything else, it seems she’s resigned to the truth.
“Almost every night since I lost the baby, I’ve had the same dream. Details change, but it’s always the same: you, me, and our baby. Sometimes, the baby is a boy, and it’s the three of us going on a walk. Other times, we have a girl, and we’re lying in our bed. Every time, I wake up and remember that none of it is real.”
Just hearing about the dreams is enough to paint vivid pictures in my head. I can’t imagine facing that every single night.
“And last night?” I ask. “What did you dream then?”
Kasey’s lips just barely tug into a smile, but it feels like she’s single-handedly lifting the haze of darkness that surrounds us.
“We brought our daughter to dinner at the manor. Your nephew begged to hold her, but Elise wasn’t sharing. The only other part I remember was you insinuating we’d start on baby number two.”
A cloudy look covers her face, and I get it. The dreams aren’t sad in themselves, but they’re a surreal reminder of what should’ve been.
“This morning was the first in months I didn’t wake up in tears,” she continues. “It helped that half of the dream was still true when I woke up.”
I lower my head back down on the armrest and press a long kiss to the top of Kasey’s head.
“You can sleep. That half of your dream will be true from now on.”
She doesn’t say anything else, but I take the contented sigh to mean she believes me.
The resounding cracks wake me just before the crash.
