Accidental Shield (Marriage Mistake #6)(13)

Flint keeps saying sleep is the best cure, doctor’s orders, yada, yada, yada.

He’s probably right. I can’t fight the drowsiness when it comes in force. It’s like a big old heavy blanket that enshrouds me, pulling me under.

Kinda like now.

Just knowing he’s near helps me snuggle deeper into the blankets. I’m out cold before Flint even joins me, closing my eyes and letting the sandman carry me away.





*



My heart races so breakneck fast I feel it in my temples.

I’m totally petrified. But I have to get far, far away before it’s too late.

I’m in a boat, scrambling as I push on the throttle. The little skiff jerks across the water, skimming the waves in bumpy zig-zags that make my stomach churn. Somewhere around my feet, the cat cries, just as scared as I am.

We’re not far from shore, close to safety, but we’re not there yet. I have to haul butt. Faster!

There’s something rattling around behind me then, and suddenly—oh God, it’s in the ship!—I know we won’t make it.

I barely have a second to reach down, scoop up my furry baby, and take a leap of faith into the ocean chop.

There’s already bright orange flames spreading across the sea the second I come up for air. It’s everywhere, debris splintering and burning and smoking like we’re not even surrounded by the roaring Pacific. More like Hell’s own Lake of Fire.

The waves chase them back rapidly, though. So much water. Currents rushing by faster than I thought, invisible fingers slapping me across the face, trying to tear the poor soaked animal from my arms.

No!

I scream the cat’s name. Then I’m just...sinking.

It’s not like the movies. In currents like these, you don’t just slide under. You’re pulled down, fast and hard, and the worst part is, I’m not even crying for myself.

I’m crying for my lost cat, who doesn’t stand a chance in this maelstrom of salt and slapping waves.

It can’t go down like this. I have to find her, save her, somehow.

So I look up and swim with all my might, fighting for the surface.

My head hurts like a beaten drum, but I have to keep swimming. I have to find the surface.

My lungs are fire now.

Oh, God, I can’t breathe.





*



“Valerie?”

I hear Flint’s voice, but I can’t see him. Can’t find him.

I can’t breathe. My lungs are locked. It hurts so bad.

“Wake up, Val. Wake the hell up!”

My eyes fly open and scalding air gushes out of my lungs so hard I cough. Hunkered down beside me, Flint yanks me up, patting my back.

“Jesus. I...I had a nightmare. Flint, it was so—”

“Breathe,” he whispers. “Just breathe, honey. You’re safe.”

My lungs start working freely again, pumping oxygen in and out. I blink several times. Whatever had me so scared slowly vanishes.

“It was so real,” I mutter again, rubbing at my eyes.

“Just a dream,” he whispers.

Was it?

“I don’t know,” I say, sliding my hands down his back, taking just a second to love how huge he is, how shielded he makes me feel, this great big bear of a man. “It felt like a memory.”

He peels away just enough to give me a sharp look. “Don’t care what it was, Val. It’s not here and I am. If you dreamed up Old Scratch himself, I’ll kick his ass right back down to hell. Nothing’s gonna hurt you here, babe. Not through me.”

I actually smile. Amazing. But it’s like his strength bleeds into me, this raw, contagious confidence.

Whatever else I’m doubting, I don’t think anything could make me question his words.

I twist softly in his arms and see the French doors hanging open, letting the cool ocean breeze inside. I hear it out there, the dark waves lapping against the sand and rocks on the shore in this soft, steady rhythm. I see the moon reflecting off the water.

It’s so beautiful. So peaceful. So tame.

Maybe he’s right. I have to trust him.

“You okay?” he asks.

I nod. I am okay. I’ve got myself a manly cocoon of protection who just vowed to fight the devil himself. That has to win a guy some brownie points.

“Here, lie back down,” he says quietly, gently lowering me to the pillow. “I’ll grab you another Tylenol.”

“No, wait!” I grasp his arm. “Please don’t leave yet. I-I don’t need more pills.”

Slowly, he lays down beside me. I roll to my side and snuggle up against him. Lay my head on his chest.

He’s pure muscle, all smooth and freshly washed. I breathe deeper, finding comfort in the soapy smell, or maybe just in this imposing wall of a man.

“Maybe you’re right,” I say, stretching an arm over his chest. His bare skin is so warm, so firm. I nuzzle my cheek deeper into his chest. “It was just a bad dream.”

“I’ll ask Cash if it’s safe to get you some melatonin tomorrow. Or better, a nice stiff drink before bed,” he says with a wink. “Sleep, Val. I’ll wait till you’re out.”

I can smell the minty toothpaste on his breath, and that makes me smile. I wonder if it’s something else I always liked about him.