Three Broken Promises (One Week Girlfriend #3)(14)

His eyes are gone, replaced with empty, cold black sockets. He’s not Danny anymore. He’s a corpse. A skeleton. His body is brittle, his clothes, his f**king skin . . . gone.

Fuck.

A ragged sound escapes me and I leap to my feet, looking around in a panic. Now I’m lost. And if I don’t find my way back, I’ll soon be as dead as Danny.

“I gotta get out of here,” I mutter to myself as I try to retrace my steps. But it’s no use. As I continue on, I become more and more lost. Until I’ve circled back and there’s Danny again.

Lying in the middle of the rocky trail, a cold and lifeless skeleton. The goddamn skeleton sits up, his black eyes on me, his voice calm as he lifts his hand. Pointing at me, he says, “It’s all your fault I’m dead. I hope you’re proud.”

Another sob escapes me as I fall to my knees again. Hell no, I’m not proud. If I could switch places, I would. I so would. He didn’t deserve to die. Everyone loved Danny, while everyone other than Danny merely tolerated me.

I wish I were the one who died.

“Colin.” A soft, sweet voice reaches through the haze and I clamp my lips shut, trying to stave off my cries. “Colin, wake up. You’re having a bad dream.”

This is no dream. I’m facing my ugly reality every single day. I let everyone in my life down.

Everyone.

“Please, Colin.” My body shakes. Her slender hands are on me, trying to offer comfort. They smooth over my shoulders before she gives me another shake, this one firmer. I had no idea she was so strong. Mentally, yes, the girl can endure anything. I admire her for that.

Love her for that, too.

Love?

Maybe I am dreaming . . .

Blinking open my eyes, I see her. Jen’s face above mine, her delicate brows scrunched together, those big brown eyes full of concern. A relieved smile curls her lips and she touches my cheek with delicate fingers. “You’re awake.” Her voice is so soft, I almost can’t hear her, and I wonder if she’s talking this way so she won’t startle or scare me.

Staring at her, I drink in her pretty, familiar features. The soft glow in her eyes, the way she touches me, makes me realize I need her in my life. I need her to open up to me again, share with me her hopes and dreams and problems. I want to help her. I want her to help me.

There’s more between us than friendship, more than our shared history. She means everything to me.

The realization renders me breathless.

I squeeze my eyes shut, then slowly open them again, trying to get her into focus. My muscles are tight, my entire body is tense, and she slips her fingers into my hair, her touch so gentle it sends tingles scattering over my skin.

My very exposed skin, since I’m naked as the day I was born.

Chapter 5

Jen

He’s trembling in my arms, his electric-blue eyes stark and full of so much misery and pain as they stare into mine. I go with my instincts and draw him fully into my arms, clinging so tight I’m afraid I might never let him go.

His dreams are coming more frequently and I’m worried. They’re consuming him. Time is supposed to heal all wounds, not make them worse.

Though time hasn’t healed all my wounds, I suppose, so why should I expect it would for Colin?

Rolling onto my back, I bring Colin with me, his head nestled on my shoulder, his hair tickling my skin. He slings his arm around me, resting it across the top of my chest, his big hand cupping my shoulder. I don’t mind the heavy weight. He feels solid, alive, so incredibly right lying with me like this. He’s still shaky, though his breathing is evening out, and I tentatively sink my fingers back into his silky, soft hair, hoping to calm him down.

“Want to tell me about it?” I ask him this same question every single time.

And every single time he ignores it. Still, I have to try.

I rake my fingers through his hair again and again, closing my eyes when he nestles closer, our legs tangling. His skin is hot, the hair on his legs rasps against mine, and he’s so incredibly hard . . .

As in I can feel his erection since he’s naked.

My eyes fly open and I stare up at the ceiling. I’ve come to his bed countless times, but he always at least has underwear on. Not tonight. I can feel every blessed naked inch of him against me. Arousal courses through me, trickling through my veins, settling between my legs, and I press my lips together. The temptation to turn toward him is so overwhelming I have to remind myself I can’t do it.

Well. I could. But I’m not about to play with fire.

“I was chasing Danny,” he finally says, his voice so quiet I have to strain to hear him. I’m stunned he’s saying anything. This is a total first. “That’s how my dreams always start.”

I quietly wait him out. I’m scared to speak for fear he’ll shut up. Scared not to say anything, too, for fear he’ll shut up.

“The scenario can change, but I’m always, always chasing him. Looking for him. Most of the time I don’t find him, but when I do . . .” He shudders. “Those dreams are usually the worst.”

“Did—did you find him in this one?” I want to know, and then again, I don’t. I used to dream of Danny too. All the time after he first died, some of the dreams sad, most of them happy, though I always woke with an ache in my heart because I missed him so much. Those dreams were more like memories of our past, as opposed to horrible nightmares.