Double shit. That meant it was a bad one. “A scary one,” I said.
He nodded.
The nightlight illuminated his wide, terror-filled eyes and tear-streaked face. It broke my heart, seeing him like this. It didn’t matter how many times he’d woken in the night—it broke me just as much as the first time had.
His gaze flicked past my right shoulder and his blue eyes widened. But it wasn’t with fear—it was with awe.
I peered over my shoulder to see Vic still standing in the doorway. He had completely ignored my request for him to leave.
Vic’s jaw was tight as his dark eyes focused on Jackson. What was baffling was that Jackson almost looked relieved to see him. It usually took him a while after a Boggs nightmare before he relaxed enough to realize no one was going to hurt him.
“He came,” Jackson murmured under his breath.
I frowned. “What do you mean, little man? Who came?” I was afraid he was talking about his dream, but as terrified as I was hearing what those monsters had done to him, I’d listen.
He bit his lower lip and leaned forward slightly. “He is a superhero and came to protect me from the bad man,” he loud-whispered.
My heart lodged in my throat. Oh God. He thought Vic had come to protect him. Well, I guess he had, but I knew Jackson was thinking more along the lines that Vic had flown across the sky from a far-off land. “Umm, yeah, I guess he did,” I replied. If Jackson saw Vic as being some kind of superhero who came to help him, I’d take it. And I wasn’t lying to him. Vic had come running to protect him.
Then it hit me. Vic ran to protect him.
My heart was still lodged in my throat, and it swelled. I glanced over my shoulder again to peer at Vic, but he was gone.
“Will he come every time I have a bad dream?”
I turned back to Jackson. I didn’t want to lie to him, but the truth was that in six more days, we had to move—and we’d probably never see Vic Gate again. “I don’t know, Jacks. But you know I’ll always protect you, right? And Jaeg and Addie and Hettie. We’ll all protect you.”
He looked toward the doorway again before he nodded.
“Okay. Read a book or silly dancing?”
The tension in his shoulders eased, and a smidgeon of light filled his eyes. “Book.”
“Okay, but you’re missing out on the silly dancing.” The dancing was something my mom did with me and Ethan when we were his age. Whenever we had a bad dream or were upset about something, we’d dance it away, often to the Bee Gees’ “Stayin’ Alive.” I had yet to convince Jackson to do it though.
Jackson crawled to his feet and climbed back into bed. I helped straighten the sheets, then I tucked them in around him before reaching in the nightstand for his book.
I flicked the nightstand lamp on and sat on the edge of his bed, leaning up against the wooden headboard. The book’s spine cracked as I opened it. I’d read the first book of the Dog Man series to him four times already, even though I’d bought the next three in the series. He always insisted on the first one. I think because it was familiar, and he knew what was going to happen before it happened.
Tonight was a good night, despite it being a Boggs dream. It only took ten minutes before he drifted off to sleep again. I continued to read to him for another ten minutes until he stopped shifting and the tension around his mouth eased.
I placed the book on the nightstand and flicked the lamp off. I peered down at him and placed two fingers to my lips and blew him a kiss. “’Night, Jack-o-bite.”
I crept from the room, leaving the door ajar, then stopped and inhaled a deep breath. I closed my eyes, finally able to let go of the bravery. Because I sure as hell didn’t feel brave. I felt helpless and alone and scared for him.
And the guilt had rooted itself in me like a giant hogweed, twisting around my insides with each and every scream. Because nothing could’ve prepared me for this. The trembling. The fear swimming in his eyes and the monsters eating away at his innocence.
The only good thing was that it was happening less often.
God, why had I waited so long? Why hadn’t I fought to see him sooner? I would’ve known. I would’ve known it was all a lie. That he’d never been safe.
I swallowed back the tears. He was out of my life, and he’d never be part of Jackson’s.
I walked toward the front door to grab my guitar and noticed the door was closed. Vic must have shut it on his way out. I usually left it open to let a breeze drift through the screen because the cabin didn’t have air conditioning.
I couldn’t figure out why Vic had been so close to the cabin. As much as Jackson saw him as some kind of superhero, there was no way he could’ve run from the house that quick. Had he been watching me play the guitar? Did he hear me sing?
Goose bumps rose on my arms at the thought of him watching me. What made it confusing was that I wasn’t sure how I felt about it.