We eat outside on the back patio, and afterward, we lie under a blanket on the large porch swing while Landon tries in vain to help me recognize the patterns in the night sky. When I keep laughing and insisting that I see nothing but random stars, he gives up and entertains me with stories from his college days instead. I fall asleep lying on his chest, his voice in my ear, and it’s the best feeling in the world.
LANDON’S moans wake me up. We’re in the bedroom. He must have carried me there after I fell asleep. My eyes adjust to the dim light from the windows, but I can’t move, and I soon realize why. Landon’s arms are tight around me, his breathing fast, and his muscles as tense as if he’s getting ready to run or fight.
“Let me go,” he mutters. The words are low and garbled, immediately followed by what sounds like crying.
I try to move, but his arms only tighten as he struggles in his nightmare.
“Landon,” I whisper, as close to his ear as I can get. “Landon, wake up. You’re dreaming.”
My voice seems to reach him. His body stills and his face gradually relaxes, his breath slowing to a normal rate. I watch him go back to a peaceful sleep, wondering what I can do. I remember what he told me weeks ago. He saw therapists throughout his teenage years, if that didn’t help, what could?
Landon’s eyes flutter open and he stretches his hand to switch on the bedside lamp. He sees that I’m awake, and a frown crosses his brow. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” I reply, not sure that there’s any point in telling him that he’d been dreaming again.
He studies my face for a long moment. “I woke you up with the nightmares, didn’t I?”
I sigh. “Yes.”
He takes a deep breath and throws his legs over the side of the bed, sitting with his back to me. He leans forward, burying his face in his hands, and then he pushes his fingers through his hair. I reach for him, wanting to place a comforting hand on his back, but he’s already getting up from the bed.
I drop my hand back on my lap. “Where’re you going?”
“I have some reports to read.” He doesn’t look at me. “Go back to sleep.”
I can’t go back to sleep, and I don’t want to. Not when I’m worried about him. “You don’t have to go, Landon. We can talk about it if you want.”
He shakes his head. “I don’t think so.”
I frown. “Don’t you? Or maybe you still think it’s none of my business?”
He faces me, and the lost, haunted expression on his face makes me ache for him. “Landon,” I urge gently, “talk to me.”
He comes back to sit on the bed and takes my hand. “You already know what the dreams are about. The accident. I watched my mother burn in that car, and I couldn’t do anything. Everything changed when she died. My whole family fell apart, my father became a shell, and my brother wouldn’t say a word. In my dreams, I want to save her. I want to save her so badly, and it feels like it would be possible if only I could get away from the person holding me back.”
I squeeze his hand. I’d seen the pictures from the old newspaper reports. He’d carried his little brother out of the wreckage, but his mother had been unconscious, and when the car had started burning, some concerned observer had prevented him from going back for her.
“Tell me about her,” I say quietly. “Your mother.”
He doesn’t reply immediately, and his silence makes me wonder if he’d rather not talk about her. Then he sighs. “She was the most beautiful woman in the world, at least to the nine-year-old boy I was. She used to practice at home sometimes, and watching her dance was like watching an angel.” He pauses. “She had the softest, gentlest voice, and she liked to laugh.”
He looks at me and smiles. “She loved Aidan, and she would play with him for hours, no matter w
hat kind of silly game he wanted. She loved to read too. My earliest memory is of her reading to me. I guess she also had a temper, especially when she fought with my dad. But he always knew what to say to her, how to remind her that she was the most important person in the world to him.”
I listen to his voice, fighting back tears. “They sound like lovely people.”
“They were,” he replies, “then the accident happened.”
I touch his back. “Landon, there’s no shame in the fact that it haunts you. Most people would never forget if something like that happened to them. You survived. You saved your brother. You were strong for him. It’s something to be proud of.”
He doesn’t reply. He’s still leaving, I think sadly. Why had I thought talking to me would be enough to heal him even of the slightest of his wounds?
“I wanted to go back.” His voice is low, almost too quiet for me to hear. Unlike the last time he spoke to me about the accident, his pain is visible, almost palpable. “I didn’t want to leave.” He lowers his face into his hands again, then lifts it back up with a sigh. “I prayed so hard for anything to happen, anything to make us go back, at least until my father came back. I knew that once he arrived he’d make it up to her somehow. I didn’t know what I was asking for, just any reason for us to go back home and wait for my dad. Then something happened. We crashed.”
I get up on my knees and put my arms around him from behind. “Landon,” I whisper soothingly. “You were a child.”
“Don’t you think I know that?” He laughs bitterly. “But it didn’t stop me from torturing myself for years.”