Honey by Sommer Marsden

Author:Sommer Marsden [Marsden, Sommer]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781645630265
Publisher: Blushing Books Publications
Published: 2019-05-28T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 29

Finn was gathering some firewood for the potbelly stove when he heard her yell. He dropped the load in his arms and took off at a sprint across the road, which was so small and narrow it was only a glorified driveway. The only houses on this "road" were his, hers, Mr. Donaldson's, and his mom's. It was why her cries were as loud and discernable as if she'd been in his own living room.

He hit the front door at a sprint and bounced off and fell on his ass on her front stoop. Locked. Finn, luckily, was friendly with the professor, so he jumped down into the small garden beneath her windows, mostly dead now, and found the fake rock she'd once shown him in case of an emergency. He popped the key out of the bottom and let himself in.

He stopped dead when he entered. There she was. Asleep, face down on the glass coffee table, buck naked and thrashing around. He didn't know if he should wake her or let her go. He couldn't remember the rules of night terrors or even nightmares. But this seemed more than a common nightmare. Her brain was locked in a bad place. She thought she was someplace she wasn't, and it appeared to be very real.

She screamed again, a blood curdling, "No!" and thrust herself up into a sitting position. Breathing hard, crying, no longer asleep, scrambling awkwardly across the slick glass, she glared at him.

He was pretty sure she was as surprised as he was, when, a moment later, she burst into tears.

Finn rushed to her, dropped to his knees and grabbed her naked shoulders. She was chilled like a cadaver, and he glanced around for a throw—anything to toss over her nakedness.

"No," she said. She breathed it this time instead of screaming.

She shut her eyes and pressed herself forward. Finn was startled; he applied pressure to keep room between them so she wouldn't think he was here for anything else other than hearing her cries. But it was Bishop who kept pressing herself forward until his arms relaxed and closed around her.

"I was confused by the idea that you wanted a hug," he said, attempting a joke.

"I don't blame you," she said.

She was shivering, the cold shooting through her body like electricity.

"Why were you asleep naked on a glass table?"

"It was nice at first."

"What was that?"

"My demons," she said. Then she snorted. "Ghosts. Bad vibrations. Pick one."

"I'll go—"

"No," she said. She pushed herself against his body as if trying to climb inside him. He wasn't sure what to do with it. It seemed so unlike her. So out of character. So…human.

He cupped the back of her head, feeling sudden rage at the fact that comforting her did something for him, gave him a calm inside he rarely felt.

He tried to pull away and she didn't let him. She linked her arms behind his back and locked them. She was strong. It startled him so much, he began laughing.

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