Page 38 of The Backdraft
I laughed a genuine laugh. “What I’m hearing is that you’re jealous of my preparedness because your bike can’t hold anything.”
He shook his head. “Such a brat.”
I propped myself up on an elbow and glared down at him. “You need to stop calling me that.”
“Not a chance.” He folded his hands behind his head, smugness coloring his expression.
“Why?”
“Because I like the fire it puts in your eyes.”
That wasn’t the answer I was expecting, and it threw me. “Anyone ever tell you you’re a little too obsessed with fire?”
“Yes,” he answered unabashedly. “That’s kind of the whole reason why we’re doing this, remember?”
I scowled at him for a few more seconds, then rolled over and turned the light off, drenching us in darkness. We were silent fora moment, and I was perfectly content to end our conversation there, but then he spoke.
“Goodnight, Brat.”
My foot reared back and connected with the side of his thigh, his resulting chuckle echoing in the space between us, and I tried not to ruminate on how much I liked the sound of it.
***
I awoke to screaming.
Deep, guttural screams.
At first, I thought it was coming from outside, but then an arm hit me, and I realized it was coming from the man beside me. A man who was still asleep.
I flew up, scrambling onto my knees next to him, my head spinning from both moving too fast, and the dissipating fog of sleep. His face was twisted in pain, so much pain, and in between screams he was muttering words I couldn’t understand.
Placing my hands on the side of his face, I leaned toward him. “Archer? Archer, wake up!”
His eyelids flew open, revealing panicked, bloodshot eyes that scanned the room rapidly, and it was then that I noticed his cheeks were wet with tears. When he looked at me, he was alert, but he wasn’therewith me; he was somewhere else entirely. The agony that had devastated his unconscious self was still written in his features, his heart beating so hard in his chest, I could feel it in the place where my arms rested on him.
I let my hands stroke the sides of his face and over his head. “Shhh. You’re okay now, Arch. It’s just me. It’s Darcy. You’re okay.”
One second I was above him, the next he hauled me against him, my body covering his, as he crushed me in the tightest hugI’d ever been a part of. He buried his face in my neck, pulling deep, shaky inhales through his nose as he tried to calm himself.
“Darcy?” My heart shattered at the fear in his voice, a physical pain taking hold in my chest and my throat tightening with unshed tears. What had he been dreaming about to cause this level of terror in a man I’d otherwise thought to be fearless?
“It’s me. I’m right here. It’s just us, Arch. It wasn’t real,” I whispered against his skin, my hands still stroking soothing touches over his hair.
“It used to be.” His voice cracked, and his body continued to shake underneath mine.
I pulled away as much as his grip around my ribcage would allow and placed a hand over his pounding heart. “It’s not anymore. I am.” I reached behind me, grabbing his hand and placing it over my own frantic heart. “I’mreal. I’m real, and I’m right here. Focus on that.”
He nodded and closed his eyes, still taking deep lungfuls of air, all while his hand pressed firmly against my chest. I didn’t dare move.
A knock at my door made us both startle. “Darcy? Archer? Are you guys okay?” my father called from the other side.
Archer released me and I hurried to the door before he barged in. I cracked it open, only to find my dad, mom, and brother on the other side, all with frantically alert, yet sleepy eyes.
“Yeah, we’re okay. Sorry to wake you all,” I offered, smiling reassuringly.
Garrett’s eyes homed in on me like a human lie detector, scanning for any trace of insincerity. “We heard screaming.”
I blurted the first thing that came to mind. “I accidentally kicked Archer in my sleep—pretty hard. In the . . . you know. So, yeah. Screaming. He’s okay though. Sorry again.”
