Chapter 46 (1/2)

I hear him talking to his mother briefly before the front door opens and closes. I plop back onto the pillows and kick my feet in a childish manner. But hearing the siren song of caffeine, I finally climb out of bed and pad out into the kitchen to make some coffee.

“Good morning, sweetie,” Trish chirps as I pass where she sits at the counter.

“Good morning. Thank you for making coffee,” I say and grab the freshly brewed pot.

“Hardin said he had some work to do,” she says, though it really sounds like she’s asking, not telling.

“Yeah . . . he said something about that,” I reply, unsure what else to say.

But she seems to ignore that and says, “I’m glad he’s okay after last night,” her voice full of worry.

“Yeah, me, too.” Then, without thinking, I add, “I shouldn’t have made him sleep on the floor.”

Her brows knit together in question. “He doesn’t have the nightmares when he isn’t on the floor?” she asks carefully.

“No, he doesn’t have them if we . . .” I trail off, stirring the sugar into my coffee and trying to think of a way to talk myself out of this.

“If you’re there,” she finishes for me.

“Yeah . . . if I’m there.”

She gives me a hopeful look that—so I’m told—only a mother can give when talking about her children. “Do you want to know why he has them? I know he’ll hate me for telling you, but I think you should know.”

“Oh, please, Mrs. Daniels.” I swallow. I don’t really want to hear her tell me that story. “He told me . . . about that night.” I swallow when her eyes widen in surprise.

“He told you?” she gasps.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to just say it that way. And the other night, I thought you knew . . .” I apologize and take another drink of coffee.

“No . . . no . . . Don’t apologize. I just can’t believe he told you. Obviously you knew about the nightmares, but this . . . this is astounding.” She dabs her eyes with her fingers and smiles a smile straight from the heart.

“I hope it’s okay. I’m so sorry for what happened.” I don’t want to intrude on their family secrets, but I also have never had to deal with anything like this before.

“It’s more than okay, Tessa dear,” she says and begins full-on sobbing. “I’m just so happy he has you . . . They were so bad—he would scream and scream. I tried to send him to therapy, but you know Hardin. He wouldn’t speak to them. At all. As in not one word, he would just sit there and stare at the wall.”

I set my mug down on the counter and wrap my arms around her.

“I don’t know what it was that made you come back yesterday, but I’m glad that you did,” she says into my shoulder.