Dean closed his eyes and just held onto her. In three years of having the nightmare, he’d never woken up to find anyone else in his bed with him. He had always handled the aftermath alone, either by downing a few tumblers of whiskey to help him go back to sleep, or by lying awake the rest of the night, trembling and berating himself for what had happened.
This, though. Having Emma here, warm and soft and soothing. This was the best thing he could imagine – a sweet and loving woman to coax him back from the darkness. It was the best way to spend the first few minutes after waking up, after realizing that Kimberley had died in his arms all over again. That he’d failed her again.
Emma waited for his shaking to stop. She didn’t say anything, and neither did he. Whatever he needed right now
