[This post is from Hecate’s point of view.]
He stiffened, blinking and trying to draw back enough to look her in the eye. Hecate just held him tighter, burying her face against his shoulder again. Matt exhaled a sigh and his arms settled around her, holding her close.
“Talk to me,” he whispered. “Grá mo chroí, just talk to me. What is it? Why him and why now?”
Her eyes stung and she swallowed hard, feeling the bile rising at the back of her throat again. “Do I have to?” she asked, the words coming as a rasp, raw and pained. “I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t want to talk about what I saw.”
“What you saw,” Matt echoed softly. His palm skated along her spine, his other arm around her waist. She rested her head against his chest again, listening to the steady beat of her heart. He was her rock, her anchor point, the port in the storm of her world. “You had a nightmare?”
“The worst kind,” she whispered, the words muffled by the soft cotton of his shirt. “The kind you want to forget as soon as you wake up but it won’t let go, like it’s burned into your memory. I keep seeing it over and over and I just want to forget, Matt. I just want to forget.”
He hushed her gently, leaning down to kiss away her tears. “It’s all right,” he whispered back. “I’m here and you’re safe and nothing’s going to hurt you as long as we’re together.”
“Or you,” she whispered. “I won’t let anything help you, either. I swear it.”
“That nightmare was something else, wasn’t it? Do you—should we–?”
She shook her head, drawing their blankets closer around them. “No. I want to stay here with you. I want to stay just like this.”
I want to stay just like this forever.