Page 95 of The Publicity Stunt
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I’m on the bridge again. It’s dark and I’m standing on the edge, overlooking the murky river. The sound of screaming is everywhere. There’s a wrecked car smashed into a tree nearby. There’s smoke coming out of it.
But something’s not right. I’m not supposed to be here. I’m supposed to be in there. I’m supposed to be in the car with them. My throat burns and the sight blurs in front of me through a scrim of tears.
I reach forward, needing to hold on to something, to feel something solid and soft against my hand, but everything starts to disappear. I turn my head aside to gasp a breath of fresh air. There’s no air.
No air. No air.
A sound forces my attention to the river below. The flowing water goes still around the car. No air. A scream builds from my belly and scrambles up my throat.
Something touches me.
Something’s touching me.
I try running away, but it doesn’t help. My feet don’t move. Something’s holding me back. I’m trying to scream but no sound comes out. I hate how this feels. My eyes are stinging. My heart is racing. I feel like I’m drowning.
“April,” a distant voice says. I know that voice. “April,” it repeats, this time more urgently, “April, wake up.”
I cover my face. I can sense this isn’t real life. Real life is happening somewhere far away and I don’t know if I’m going to be stuck here forever. Tears pour out my eyes.
“Chere.” A gentle touch pushes my hair away from my face and my eyes snap open at the name.
“Parker,” I whisper, still unaware if this is real or in my head. But then he pulls me upright and puts his arms around me, pressing my chest to his, and I know it’s real. He’s here.
“You were having a nightmare,” he says.
“What?” The words jumble, dissolving into soft sobs. He runs his fingers along my spine, winding them into my hair. This room seems like a place I’ve never been before. It takes me a while, but in slow blinks I come awake, tightening my arms around him, my eyes darting around the room. “I was dreaming?” The words emerge hoarse and hesitant.
“You were,” he says.
A spot in my chest goes tight. “I-I’m sorry,” I whisper.
He hasn’t stopped hugging me. “For what?”
“I woke you up.”
“It’s fine.” He pulls away a little to look at me. “Do you want to talk about it?”
An anxious breath leaves my mouth. Parker waits a few more beats, then nods, understanding that I really, really don’t want to talk about it. What I want is to not even have to think about it. “What time do you have to wake up tomorrow?” he asks.
“Six.” My voice cracks and Parker pulls away a little more, a concerned knot between his brows.
“Chere, that’s in four hours. Are you sure you’ll be up?”
I shrug. “There’s very little in this world that a hot croissant and an iced latte can’t fix.” There’s an avalanche of emotions swirling through me. Mostly, it’s just fear; a nameless one I don’t know how to fight. It’s been festering inside me for eight long years. “How did you do it?” I ask him.
“What?”
“How did you …” I look up and sigh. I’m not sure how to phrase my question.How did you get past everything?He makes it look so easy. It makes me feel like there’s something wrong with me. Like I’m incapable of moving forward.
I scrunch my eyes shut, at a loss for words. They’re in my throat, but just won’t come up. It’s one thing to tell Parker how strong he is for being able to move on so easily, and it’s a whole other thing to be mad at him for exactly the same. It’s not fair. Before he came back into my life, I was happy. Or, at the very least, okay. I was dealing with my issues one day at a time, going to therapy, not having nightmares. Living.
“April?” he says again, his thumb sweeping against my jaw. When I don’t respond, he pulls me against him, wrapping his arms around the small of my back. “Hey,” he murmurs into my hair. I nod. “Chere, are you crying?” I shake my head and a single tear falls down my cheek. Parker grips the fabric of my T-shirt for a split second, before backing off suddenly.
I frown and wipe my eyes. “What—”
He walks to his bag and when he turns around, my heart stops. He’s holding a unicorn hat. He’s holding my unicorn hat.
