The Darkness in Dreams (Enforcer's Legacy, #1)(4)

“Which is why an intervention won’t help.”

“Then let’s talk about what will help.” Arsen tipped his head to the side, curiosity in those lying eyes. “What’s it like when you dream?”

“Fairly normal dreaming.”

“And yet your fairly normal dreaming has your therapist and good friend concerned.”

“Marge over-reacts on occasion.”

“And now you’re avoiding the answer, Lexi.”

“And you’re reading too much into it, Arsen.”

“Humor me,” he said, and settled more comfortably on the ground. Lexi shifted away and stared at the distant hills. She pushed the sun-colored hair from her eyes and noticed that the pinging of her migraine was fading. The breeze had picked up. Whispers seemed to be warning her about something she couldn’t define, and a slight tremor shook her hand.

“Are you cold?” Arsen asked.

“No.”

“Good. Because you haven’t answered my question yet.”

“About?”

“Those dreams that keep you from sleeping.”

Lexi watched a line of red ants move in her direction, a long train of mindless units working with a collective brain. Another shiver touched her. While she respected every life form, ants were intrusive.

“Are your dreams unusually realistic?” Arsen asked.

Lexi smirked at him over her shoulder. “Well, there’s a lot of energy when I dream. I live in a New Age sort of town. Spooky vibrations in the air.”

“Is this as serious as you get?”

“No, I can be worse.”

“Marge never mentioned this aspect of your personality.”

“No, I don’t imagine she did, or you’d have charged her more for your intervention.”

Arsen laughed, a rich, warm sound layered with such joy Lexi leaned into it before stopping herself. The man was irritating as hell, but so persistent Lexi found him hard to resist. If she’d ever had a brother he would have behaved the same way, and suddenly her body hurt. No, it was her heart that hurt, swelled up with all the grief and emptiness and stupid hope, and after everything, how utterly pointless was that?

Maybe she’d inherited the crazy gene after all, because what normal mother named her kid Galaxy, unless it was a big middle finger to a grandmother who’d gone by names like Moonbeam and Star Flower during periods of her life? When Lexi was seven, her mother had experienced a “great moment of realization.” She’d packed Lexi, a stuffed bear named Waldo, and a pink blanket into a paper bag and left them on her grandmother’s door step.

“You’re old enough to understand, Galaxy,” the mother said, while tears ran down the child’s face. “This is my life. You’ll be fine. I never wanted a kid, anyway.”

Lexi had survived, thrived in her grandmother’s care, and after a time her life took on the kind of lonely that only bothered her at night, when she set the table for one and realized that wouldn’t change. Lexi accepted it, called it independence and it was, but there was a cost.

Life came at a cost, and now she had what everyone wanted: freedom, with no socks to pick up. Few people were allowed close and even fewer into the space that broke a heart. Marge called it self-protection but Marge was being kind. Lexi understood the truth when the hours stretched and the silence crushed. When she feared the one bright chance for love had been squandered long ago and she would never get it back.

So, she’d made a home in Rock Cove, where people were friendly but never became friends. A small town, where excitement came from the Ooh-la-la parade every summer and the day-trippers looking for whales in the winter. Her small business combined research with her talent to read the earth, one of those New Age opportunities others dismissed. Lexi found locations for the specialty retreat market, yoga and self-help seminars. She focused on the paranormal back stories, the haunted ghost sightings and spirit mountains—and there were more of those in the Pacific Northwest than people would acknowledge. The days filled with a rhythm of their own and the nights filled with dreams, and if there were issues beyond her endless, empty life, it was because those dreams were so intense she couldn’t sleep for days.

And there you had it, the real reason Marge arranged this intervention. Lexi had mentioned that detail to her therapist, too.

The breeze picked up, catching wild strands of blond hair and tossing them into her face. She brushed the annoyance aside and stared down at the ants. The mindless machines moved forward and it was time to bring this intervention to a close.

“As nice as this conversation is, Arsen, if that’s even your real name, I want to go back to Rock Cove.”

“I can’t let you do that, Lexi.”

“Can’t? Or won’t?”

“It’s complicated.”

“Situations like this usually are. Complicated and messy and full of legal liability. How long have you been following me, by the way? I’ve seen you at least three times before now.”

“I was checking up on you,” Arsen said.

“Not your job.”

“Marge thought we might have a unique perspective on your dreams.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Why don’t you think so?”

“My dreams are vivid.”