Page 46 of If You Claim Me
We message back and forth for a few more minutes, my sisters dropping in their requests for spa services while I make reservations. The weeks leading to the wedding will be a challenge for them, since they’re the ones who deal with our parents and their expectations on a daily basis. My father uses our mother as his puppet, and she dutifully plays the role.
Once I have everything arranged, I sign off for the evening and get ready for bed. I lie there for a while, mind unwilling to settle with Mildred just across the hall. I can’t get the picture my sister sent out of my head. Or the memory of how soft Mildred’s lips were. How she tasted faintly of strawberries. For a moment, everyone ceased to exist but her and me.
I wake with a start, and the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. Then I hear it again—a soft, muffled, feminine cry. I shake off the vestiges of sleep, roll out of bed, and step into the hall. Another soft wail comes from behind Mildred’s door. I pause with my hand on the knob. I don’t want to invade her privacy, but that forlorn sound repeats, the pitch high and panicked.
I turn the knob quietly, heart hammering as I push the door open. The bedside lamp is still on, casting a glow over Mildred. She’s tiny in the massive king bed. Her dark hair is splayed across the pale sheets. The comforter is twisted around her legs, and she thrashes wildly.
I cross the room, throat tight as her mournful wails grow increasingly frantic.
“Mildred.” I call her name twice more, but she stays locked in the nightmare.
I reach out and shake her shoulder. “Mildred, wake up.”
She sucks in a gasping breath, eyes flipping open. She screams and scrambles away from me, hitting the headboard. “No! I don’t want to!”
“Mildred, it’s me. It’s Connor.” I raise both hands. “You’re safe. It was a nightmare. No one will make you do anything you don’t want to.” That’s not entirely true, though, because there are things she’ll have to endure over the next year that she probably won’t enjoy.
The nightmare fades, and her eyes clear. Between one blink and the next, her arms are wrapped around my neck, and her trembling, sweat-drenched body is pressed against mine. I stand there for a moment, frozen.
I’m shirtless. Wearing only boxer shorts. Mildred is dressed in a thin cotton sleep tank and shorts. Goose bumps rise along her arms, her damp skin cool to the touch.
“It’s safe. I’m safe,” she mumbles into my neck, the words on repeat.
“That’s right. You’re safe here.” I carefully curve my armsaround her, and she squeezes tighter. I cup the back of her head and gently stroke her hair, breathing in her vanilla-and-strawberry shampoo. “It’s okay, Mildred. You’re okay. It was just a dream.” But as I say it, I wonder if it’s true, or if it was a memory haunting her sleep.
Holding her feels good, though, and for a selfish, horrible moment, I wonder if she’ll have more nights like these, where she needs comfort from me.
Eventually her grip loosens, and her warm fingers slide over my shoulders. She sits back on her heels, eyes darting around, not meeting mine. “I’m sorry. I didn’t—new places are…” She shakes her head. “I’m fine. I’m sorry I woke you.”
I want to reach out and stroke her cheek, but I don’t want to scare her. “Don’t apologize for things out of your control.”
She licks her lips, eyes on her clasped hands. “I’m fine now.”
I stand there for a moment, letting the teeth in that lie sink in. I clear my throat. “I can stay with you, until you fall asleep again.” I could hold her while she fell asleep, protect her from the ghosts that haunt her. Be something more than the man she made a deal with.
Her eyes lift, finally meeting mine. Yearning flickers in their chocolate depths. I feel it in the marrow of my bones. “Really, I’m okay. The first couple of nights are always the hardest. Then it gets better.”
I want to press, but I don’t. “Okay. I’m right across the hall.”
She nods and slides back under the covers, sorting out the comforter.
I head for the door.
“Connor?”
I look over my shoulder.
“I’m sorry my demons woke you.”
“I’m sorry you have them at all.”
CHAPTER 13
CONNOR
When I arrive home from practice, there are three vehicles I don’t recognize in the driveway. For a moment I wonder if Mildred has invited her friends over. And if she has, is it for protection against me, or because she’s becoming comfortable here? I don’t want to examine my feelings about either too closely.
Chatter comes from the living room, Mildred’s laughter ringing out, warming the air. The room is full of cameras, lighting equipment, and people I don’t know.
