Page 12 of Remnants
“He’s fine, Junebug.” Nora’s groggy voice nearly causes me to pee myself.
“I’m so sorry, I just wanted to check on you.”
Nora waves me over as she sits up slowly and motions for me to sit down on the bed.
“Don’t be sorry, it’s sweet.” She takes my hand in hers and presses my palm to her cheek before kissing it softly. My breath catches in my throat at the tender display. “I’m sorry you had to see me like that… like this,” she murmurs, her sleepy eyes closed while she continues to nuzzle into my hand. She is so heavily medicated, her head can barely stay up.
“Don’t be,” I whisper, running my thumb over her high cheekbone. “There may come a day where I need you to see me.”
“Will you stay with me? I don’t want to be alone.” I take a steadying breath before nodding and taking off my shoes. I pull the blankets back before slipping in. This is such a terrible idea. The worst fucking idea. I’m completely rigid as Nora curls her long, strong body around my shorter, soft one.
She nuzzles into the crook of my neck while her hand rests across my chest, gripping tightly to the fabric of my sweater, as if she fears I will disappear. I wrap my arms around her body, noticing how she softens in my embrace.
“Sleep, Nora,” I whisper as I press my lips to the top of her head. “I promise you won’t be alone anymore.”
Nora
SIX
The poundingin my head wakes me far too fucking early. I go to move off my pillow but stop as I feel a weight holding me down.Sam. I sigh and open my eyes but when they focus I have to stop myself from making a noise. Sam isnotwho's holding me down.
Kaitlin lays next to me, both of us tangled in each other's limbs. I pull my head from the spot on her chest and look down at her soft features. God, her eyelashes are so long, and that fucking freckle on her lip.
“Don’t be a creeper,” she groans as she opens one eye. “What time is it?” she croaks while releasing a long stretch. I’m still too stunned to speak. Why is she in my bed? I look around, trying to piece together what had happened.
Reaching over her, I tap my watch to illuminate the screen. “Three-thirty,” I say as I pull myself off of her and sit up, instantly missing her warmth.
Where is Sam?
“Too early, go back to sleep,” she grumbles and rolls toward me. I can’t help but chuckle. She’s absolutely adorable when sleepy, and my guess is she’s definitely not a morning person.
“Kaitlin.” I clear my throat, trying to rid myself of the hoarseness. She stills and instantly sits up, her face glowing from the light in the hallway. It’s dim, but still enough to see her brows furrowing. “What?” I question her almost pouting look.
“I am pretty sure you’ve never called me Kaitlin. And I’m also pretty sure that I do not like it.” I can’t stop the laugh from coming out. She’s pouting with her bottom lip pushing forward and everything.
“Sorry, love. I just… what happened?” I ask, absently waving my hand around the bedroom.
“Well, what’s the last thing you remember?” I look out toward the hallway as I hear the clinging of metal—Sam’s tags on his collar.
“You, getting in a car with a woman who yelled at me,” I mutter absentmindedly as I try to recall the events.
“Yelled at you?” Her sharp tone takes me by surprise.
“Uh, yeah, just for being covered in tattoos or something, it’s kind of fuzzy. Something about Leviticus… Like I said, it’s fuzzy.” I rub the back of my neck before continuing, “But you left with her and I think there was a loud noise outside, maybe? I don’t know, my brain is a complete mess right now.” I feel Kaitlin’s hand running up and down my spine before pulling me closer to her.
“You had a flashback according to Mac. When I got here I had to climb through the window. You were passed out in the hallway. You were scared, but I got you to stay with me as much as you could until he got here and could get you medicated and laying down.”
Embarrassment and shame fill me as I hang my head low. “Kaitlin, I am so sorry,” I whisper, unable to look at her.
“Hey, there is no reason to apologize! Except for the fact that you called me Kaitlin again. I’ve wanted a nickname forever and was never allowed one, so please, keep calling me them.”
“Never allowed?” I repeat as I look up at her. She shrugs one shoulder.
“My parents are very religious, strict, old fashioned. And James thinks they are tacky.”
I sit quietly for a minute, trying to formulate my question properly, but the medication and headache, plus the fog of the attack and the shock of having her so close to me is frying my brain.
“Does James hurt you?” I don’t mean for that to be the question, exactly. I meant to say “control”, but him hurting her—it's been a real concern since I saw him leave the other day. I hear the sharp intake of air and my eyes scan over her face, her eyes are staring holes into my wall. He does. He hurts her and she is trying to come up with a lie to tell me. Reading people was part of what made me so valuable in the military. Which is why the attack had blindsided me and my entire unit.
