He stiffened slightly in surprise. His eyes were puzzled when he looked at her. “For what?”
“For making me feel love again.”
He leaned his forehead against hers and drew his fingers through the strands of her hair.
“You’ll never know anything else again,” he vowed.
CHAPTER 25
THE dream was dark and ugly. It hit her on a deep emotional level that frightened her. Ethan was there, but he wasn’t her comforter or the warrior she’d imagined for so long. He was furious with her.
The desperation that gripped her was born of the knowledge that whatever they were once to each other, it was long gone, buried under broken trust.
She faced him, frightened, knowing this was it. The end of their marriage, of their love. She wasn’t strong enough to face him, but he gave her no choice. He wanted her to know. Why was he so adamant?
The eyes she so loved were not filled with warmth and support. They were hard and resolved.
“No,” she whispered. She didn’t want to see him this way. It was just a dream. A nightmare. It wasn’t real. Was it?
You’re a fraud. Your marriage is a fraud. He doesn’t love you.
The voice whispered into the most vulnerable part of her soul. It twisted and turned through the paths, spreading despair in its wake.
“No. No!”
“Rachel. Rachel, wake up, baby. It’s just a dream. Come back to me.”
Gentle hands caressed her face, wiping away the tears on her cheeks. Her eyes fluttered open and she blinked to adjust to the darkness.
“Hey,” Ethan said softly. “It’s okay. You’re safe, Rachel.”
He gathered her in his arms and hugged her to his chest. Her heart drummed relentlessly against his chest, and she struggled against the panic still on the fringes of her consciousness.
Why was she having this dream? It was growing stronger, not weaker. Shouldn’t her panic be going away the more time elapsed after her captivity? And why was she dreaming about Ethan this way?
A therapist would probably feed her a line about her unconscious fears rearing their ugly head when she was most vulnerable.
She snuggled closer to Ethan, holding on as tight as she could, as if by sheer will she could point and say, See? He doesn’t hate me. He’s here. He loves me.
He kissed the top of her head and stroked over her chilled skin. She wore nothing after their lovemaking, and his hands should have felt like magic on her flesh. Instead she tensed, dread filling her.
Maybe she really was crazy.
“Baby, talk to me,” Ethan murmured. “What’s got you so scared? Can you tell me about the dream?”
She closed her eyes again. What could she say? Gee, Ethan, I dreamed you were a real bastard and that you hated me. That would certainly make him feel good.
But she had to tell someone.
The idea of going to the therapist Ethan had gotten information on scared her. It made her feel out of control and helpless. But maybe it was time. Maybe she couldn’t do this alone.
“WHAT the ever-loving fuck?”
Sam stopped shoveling cereal into his mouth long enough to cast a suspicious eyeball at Garrett, who was reading the paper.
Garrett slapped the newspaper down on the counter with enough force to slosh milk over the side of Sam’s bowl.
“Chill out, dude. What’s got your panties in a knot this morning?”
Garrett scowled back at Sam, his eyebrows drawn into angry thunderclouds. Oh yeah, Garrett was pissed. This went beyond his usual grumpy-ass demeanor.
Garrett drew in several steadying breaths. Worried now, Sam shoved the bowl aside and reached for the paper.
“Spill for God’s sake.”
“Page three,” Garrett seethed.
Sam thumbed over to the page in question and quickly scanned the contents. He stopped when he saw the Kelly name splashed predominately across the headline.
“Whoa.”
“Yeah,” Garrett said in disgust. “Read it.”
Sam read through the article touting Rachel’s miraculous return from the dead. When he got to the part about the role KGI had played, his fingers tightened until the edges of the paper crumpled in his fists.
“God damn.”
“Keep reading,” Garrett said grimly.
Nothing was left to chance. Rachel’s drug addiction was mentioned, but nowhere did it say the drugs were forced on her. Just that she battled the effects of cocaine and heroin addiction. It was even suggested that her memory loss wasn’t real, that it was a ruse to incite sympathy.
Sam couldn’t think beyond the rage building. “Who the fuck told them all this crap?”
Garrett snatched the paper and then stabbed a finger at part of the article. “Read!”