Page 31 of Rescuing Josiah
For a moment, he stilled, and she thought she was going to be able to wake him without issue.
“Josiah, it’s Chelsea. Wake up, you're having bad dreams,” she said, feathering her fingertips over his forehead. He felt a little warm, and his skin was dotted with sweat. Whatever he was dreaming about was bad, and she hated that for him.
He still hadn't lashed out in any way, and when his head suddenly snapped in her direction, she thought she had avoided disaster. His eyes opened, and she smiled at him, but it took her barely a second to realize something was wrong.
No sooner had the smile curled her lips up than anxiety had them dropping down to form a worried frown.
There was something wrong with his eyes. They were empty, he was looking through her not at her. Not really seeing her at all. His eyes might be open, but he wasn't awake, he was still caught up in whatever nightmare had grabbed hold of him.
Before she could back away and think of a different way to wake him up, he moved, faster than she’d ever seen a personmove before. His hand snapped around her throat, and he launched up onto his feet, backing her up until she was slammed against the nearest wall. The hand gripping her neck was there to kill her, she knew that because there had been no hesitation, it just grabbed around her throat and squeezed hard enough to cut off her air supply.
Trying to get out of his hold would be impossible, and she didn't want to hurt him because he didn't even know what he was doing. He wasn't seeing her, he was seeing whatever haunted him.
Talking wasn't an option, not with the way he shut off her ability to breathe, so instead, she just reached out and framed his face, her fingers tracing soft circles against his now icy cold skin. When her thumb brushed along his bottom lip, the hold on her neck faltered, loosening a little, enough that she could drag in a much-needed breath.
“It’s okay, Josiah, you're safe,” she said, voice rough, sucking in more mouthfuls of air in case he didn't snap out of his dream and tightened his grip again.
The dark eyes staring sightlessly through her blinked once, slowly, and then cleared, and she knew the exact second that reality crept in because his expression turned horrified.
“I tried to kill you,” he said, voice tight with regret. “Are you okay?”
Without giving her a chance to answer, he leaned down and scooped her up, carrying her to the bed, and piling up the pillows against the headboard before setting her down against them.
“I'm sorry, I knew sleeping in here was a bad idea, if I?—”
“Shh,” she murmured, voice still rough as she leaned over and touched a finger to his lips. “You didn't try to kill me.”
Gaze lingering on her throat, which she was sure was already red and bruising, he shook his head. A large hand circled her wrist, and he moved her hand away. His touch was gentle, andthere was so much guilt and regret in his eyes that she couldn’t stand it.
Throwing herself at him, Chelsea wrapped her arms around his shoulders, her legs around his waist. She didn't care that her throat ached a little, all she cared about was soothing Josiah’s pain and not letting him blame himself for something he hadn't even known he was doing.
“You were dreaming. I knew the risks of waking you, you told me last time not to do it again, and I did it anyway. It’s my fault, not yours. It. Is. Not. Your. Fault,” she said firmly, over-enunciating each word.
“But I hurt you.” His voice was as rough as her own, only his was clogged with emotion.
“Not on purpose. What were you dreaming about?”
The tension in his body somehow increased at her question, and he tried to grab hold of her, pry her off. “We need to call an ambulance. You need to go to the hospital. There could be damage to your neck and swelling. This charade is over. We’ll have to find a different way to bring down the trafficking ring.”
“Well, that escalated quickly,” she said with a giggle as she clung to him tighter so he couldn’t dislodge her.
“Are you … laughing?”
“Mmhmm. I don’t need a hospital, and we are definitely not backing out when we’ve made amazing progress. I am okay. Look at me, Josiah.” Pulling back enough that she could see his face, she waited until he met her gaze before continuing. “You have to talk about it. If you can't talk to me, then you have to find someone else. You can't keep going on like this. You're hurting.”
“What I deserve,” he whispered so softly she barely heard the words.
“It sure as hell is not,” she growled. No one got to talk about the man she loved like that. Not even himself. “You deserve all the good things in the world.”
“I should have died with them.” Those words were said with such belief that she buried her face against his neck and breathed in his soothing, woodsy scent, to assure herself he was actually standing here alive.
“I'm glad you're not dead,” she murmured.
“They took off their vests, and I didn't. I was supposed to die out there along with my team.”
“That doesn’t mean you don’t deserve to be here. Doesn’t mean you still can't live a long and happy life. You can hate what happened and still be glad you're alive, both at the same time.” Chelsea silently begged him to believe her. She’d never give up on him, but you could only help someone who wanted to be helped, and right now Josiah wasn't sitting in that camp.
“So much anger inside me. I’m not safe to be around.”
