I was off my bed and racing out of my room in a flash. I skidded to a stop in front of his door and carefully opened it, not wanting to freak him out.
He was still asleep.
Curled up on his side and hugging his pillow, the sheets around his waist as he sobbed brokenly.
“Shit.”
What was the protocol when someone was having a nightmare? Should I wake him up? I didn’t want to scare him, but there was no way I could leave him like that.
“Jules?”
My voice was barely loud enough to carry over the steady stream of his sobs.
“Jules?” I asked louder and stepped into his room, closing the door behind me.
“Help,” he wailed, the sound heartbreaking and visceral.
“Jules, wake up.”
I knelt beside his bed and gently touched his shoulder.
“Ash!” he screamed, pulling away from my touch. He was still fast asleep.
“I’m here, Jules.”
I ran one hand through his sweat-damp hair.
He settled immediately and his eyes fluttered open. They were unfocused, red, and puffy from crying.
“Ash?” His bottom lip wobbled.
“Yeah. I’m here, Jules.” I rubbed his scalp gently and let out a breath when he leaned into my touch.
I didn’t like the idea that Jules had been in here alone and crying. He’d been fast asleep when I’d put him to bed. How long ago was that?
I glanced at his phone screen. We’d been asleep for about two hours.
“Are you okay?”
“Did I wake you?” he asked thickly, blinking up at me with watery eyes.
“Don’t worry about that. Did you have a nightmare?”
He nodded, his lips quivering.
“Do you want me to get in there with you?”
He swallowed hard, then nodded again.
I climbed into the bed, settling behind him, and wrapped one arm around his waist.
He wiggled back, fitting himself against my body.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
“Don’t be sorry.” I kissed his hair, not caring that it was damp with sweat. “It’s okay, Jules. I’ve got you.”
“You’ve got me?” he said dreamily, his voice soft as a whisper. “You’re the only one who does.”