“Do you dream about the crash too?”
Sal’s soft question catches him off guard. He looks down to see her staring up at him. Her eyes are drowsy with sleep, but her expression is curious, watchful. Waiting on him.
Luke doesn’t know how to tell her. That he dreams of her. That her screams play in his head every fucking night. Over and over and over. Her mouth saying his name while he sat helpless to do anything but reach for her hand. And even then, when he tried to take it, he kept missing. He just couldn’t hold on. That he wakes every night with a jolt, his heart on fire because it remembers how bad it needs her.
Luke’s honest. Sal’s asking him for the truth, and he owes her that.
“All the time.” Tucking a blanket around her, he chokes out, “I dream of you, Sal. It’s all I ever do. I watch you die, again and again.”
“Oh, Luke,” Sal says in her quiet way. “That sounds awful.”
“It is.” After a second hesitation, Luke reaches out to cup her cheek. “It was,” he amends.
The moment’s broken by the appearance of Seth, setting a glass of water on the nightstand. Startled, Sal raises herself up on her elbows, pressing a hand to her lips. “I woke you up. Shit. I’m sorry.”
Seth smiles indulgently at her. “Don’t worry about it. I’m barely getting any sleep down there as it is with Luke snoring.”
Luke rolls his eyes. “I’m right here, dumbass.”
Sal laughs. She burrows down into the sheets, her hands pulling the sheet up to her chin. Her eyes brush to Luke, then Seth. “I’m okay. Really. Thanks for looking out for me.”
“Anytime,” Seth says. After a last look at Sal, surveying her condition, he gives a rap on the side of the door and exits the room.
“Do you want me to stay?” Luke asks as he rises from the bed, keeping his eyes steady on Sal.
The last thing he wants to do is leave Sal alone like this. He’d sleep in a chair beside her bed, post a lookout next to her door, stand sentry over her, anything to be near Sal, to make sure she’s okay.
After a second of hesitation, Sal says quietly, “No, I’ll be fine.”