Page 110 of The Love You Fight For
I climb into the bed next to her and hold her against me.
“You can be done, Sam. It’s okay. It’s okay to be done now. You don’t ever have to go back.”
Stay with me. I’ll take care of you. I’ll keep you safe.
“Thank you,” she whispers sleepily. “Thank you for being my peace.”
Sam startles awake an hour later.
I’d been watching her. I watched her, and I seethed. She was restless. She whimpered in her sleep. Whisperednoover and over. Then she sat straight up in bed with a gasp so loud that I jumped.
She looks around the room like a terrified child running from a monster, but when she sees me, her whole body deflates, and I pull her against my chest.
“It was a dream,” I tell her. “It was just a dream. You’re safe here. You’re safe with me.”
She nods rapidly against my chest.
“Just a dream,” she whispers. “It was just a dream. Just a dream.”
She whispers it to herself, but her body doesn’t relax. She stays tense, her heart thudding so fast I can feel it through her back. I give her time to catch her breath, but when she doesn’t, I speak.
“What can I do? Are you hungry or thirsty? Do you need some ibuprofen or anything? What can I do?”
She’s quiet for a moment, and I wonder if she’ll answer.
Lean on me,I want to say.Let me help.
“Will you...”
She starts in a whisper, but then she stops. Fidgeting with the comforter, she takes three deep breaths with three slow exhales before she speaks again.
“Would you mind reading to me?”
Her voice is so small. So childlike. So unlike the strong, sassywoman I love. But I love her this way, too. I love her vulnerable, and I love her strong. I love all of her.
“I would love to read to you.” I give her a small smile.
I slide out of bed and go to my bookshelf.
“Do you have any requests?”
“Fiction. Something with a bit of romance. Something with a happy ending. I need to know there will be a happy ending.”
I smile and nod, then select a novel.
“How aboutPride and Prejudice?”
Her smile is the fucking sun, her happy little laugh the most beautiful song.
“You ownPride and Prejudice?” she asks.
I arch a brow.
“Do you still not believe that I can read? Perhaps I just memorized those passages inWalden?”
She laughs again and shrugs. I narrow my eyes playfully.
“Pride and Prejudiceis my favorite,” she says finally, so I smile and bring the book back into bed with her.
