“It was a little tap.” I smirked.
He turned his head to look out from behind his hands. “You’re kidding me, right?”
I shook my head. “Jase. Go to bed. You look tired.”
He sighed. “I am tired.”
“Did you sleep at all last night?”
He stiffened a little. “What would make you think I hadn't slept?”
“You know already, Jase, you can read my mind.” I reached across and touched his arm. “How long have you been having those night terrors?”
His eyes narrowed and he studied me carefully. “You…so you did see that dream?”
I nodded.
He sunk back, exhaling.
“Are they always that bad—the dreams?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“I'm sorry.”
“Ara, please don't—just…don't say you’re sorry. I'm sorry. I'm the one who—”
“No.” I grabbed his hand and tucked it against my locket. “All of that’s in the past. I know what you did for me. I know it was to protect me, Jase, I forgave you a very, very long time ago.”
“I know.”
“No, you don't. It hurts me for you to feel such deep regret. You’re punishing yourself for something you had no control over.”
He drew his hand away from mine. “I just…”
“Jase. It’s. In. The. Past,” I said slowly to make it clear as a bell. “Stop dreaming about it.”
“To do that, I’d have to stop sleeping.”
I rolled my eyes. “How ‘bout you come visit me in our sleep again instead. We’ll make some nice dreams for you.”
“I'm not sure it’s really appropriate for us to be alone like that, Ara.”
“I know. But I can't have you reliving that torture every night. I won't. Not to mention, if I'm slipping into your dreams somehow, I don't really want to be seeing that every time I close my eyes, either.”
He kind of laughed, looking boyish and sweet. “Okay. No more nightmares then.”
“Good,” I said in a business-like tone. “Now, I have question for you.”
“Shoot.”
“The mind-links?”
“Mm?”
“Did…” I tried not to smile. “Did you visit me—in our dreams—while you were supposedly dead?”
His smile grew. “Maybe. Once or twice.”
“I knew it.” I slapped my covers then looked back at him. “So…the yellow dress.”
He cleared his throat. “Yes, I…figured I owed you a new dress—since I ruined the blue one.”
“Ha! I can't believe you just said that.”
He shrugged timidly.
“And, what about the memories? Did you leave mind-blocks in place, or were you actually in those dreams with me, showing me all those things yourself?”
“Many of those were memories—things we did before…” His voice trailed off. “I never placed mind-blocks. I erased those things, but only enough to hide them from a human mind. As you grew stronger, your brain lifted the sheet.”
“Sheet? But you said you erased them.”
“Nothing can ever truly be erased from a mind. It’s like a hard drive—unless you have some pretty high-tech equipment, there’s always an imprint left behind.”
“Right. So, all those things you showed me about your childhood—”
“You asked. I answered.”
I nodded. “Did you want me to hate David?”
He laughed. “It’d be nice if you did. But, no. I did and do want you to know what he’s like, though.”
“What do you mean?”
He looked at my cheek and wiped his thumb over it. “You have such a forgiving heart that, well, now I'm sure you’d forgive David if he struck you in anger—and his strike would not be a tiny slap.”
“You only say that because you think I'm going to let Mike get away with it.”
“No, I say that because my brother can seem to do no wrong. I’ve seen him raise his voice at you, and you only blame yourself—tell yourself not to push him. Ara, that’s a recipe for a submissive nineteen-fifties abused housewife. I just don't want to see you crying on a kitchen floor, punished because the Pavlova sunk, and, sweet girl, I wouldn’t put it past him.”
“You don't think very highly of him, do you?”
“I love my brother. I do. But I know him—inside and out, and he’s old fashioned. He doesn't see anything wrong with disciplining his wife. It’s not a personality fault; it’s a time corruption.”
“He’d never hit me, Jase.”
He softened, stroking his thumb gently down my cheek again. “Neither would Mike.”
I pushed his hand away. “And David would never even do that much.”
“I hope not. And I hope, if he ever does, you would come to me—you would see it as an error on his part, and not just think yourself the problem.”
“I wouldn’t. Okay? I know it might seem like I let him get away with being all controlling and forceful, but if he ever did anything to me that I didn't like, I’d leave. I have a no-strike policy with men, Jase. If he hits me, even once, he’s gone, because that’s not love.”
“I hit you.”
My heart sunk. “Jase. Don't. Okay? Just stop feeling guilty. Look—” I sighed. “Okay, you hit me, you’re a bastard. I hate you.” I grinned.
He rocked his jaw, swiping his thumb across a tear on his cheek. “You were just so small and precious. Every strike felt as if you’d snap, shatter, like porcelain. I—” He cleared his throat, his voice breaking. “I hit as softly as I possibly could, but I—”
I placed my hand over his, bringing him back from the world he’d slipped away to. “Don't go there anymore. Just, when you think about it, go to a place where we were happy, instead.”
He flipped his hand over under mine and wound our fingers together. “Only if I can take you there with me.”
I nodded, tightening my hold. “I will go anywhere, do anything to make you okay again. It kills me that you’re stuck in that torture without me, Jase. I'm okay. I'm here. I'm alive, and I…” I knew what I wanted to say, but couldn't let myself say it. Not ever. “I care about you. A lot. So, please, just…just don’t go back there anymore. Move on. Leave it behind where it belongs—in the past.”