He didn’t say my name.
He didn’t move at all.
“Dad?”
I woke up with a gasp, clutching the sheets to my chest as my heart raced. My mouth was open in an O of horror, but no sound came out. I couldn’t see anything as I tried to suck air into my lungs. It felt like waking from a coma. Like I’d have to relearn how to do everything.
“It’s over,” I mouthed, a sentiment I was repeating in my mind. It was just a dream—a really bad one, but a dream nonetheless. It was over and it couldn’t hurt me anymore.
Until next time.
Gradually, my breathing calmed, but I still couldn’t see. It felt like morning, and I could hear birds singing. Eventually, I realized the issue must be those ugly, heavy curtains that covered the window. I looked at my phone, and it was nearly seven. The sun should definitely be up by now.
I untangled myself from the covers. As always, they’d gotten twisted up while I fought my way out of the nightmare.
Shakily, I padded over to the window and lifted the heavy curtain. I was still sweating from the bad dream. It would’ve been nice to feel the fresh, cool air rush over me, but the window appeared to be painted shut.
The view of the tall trees was calming, even if I couldn’t experience the fresh air. After a few minutes, I headed toward the shower. The small stall was the same shape as a port-a-potty, but at least the water was refreshing. I started it mildly warm, and then raised the heat as my body returned to its normal temperature.
I tried not to think while the water ran over my skin. Or at least I tried not to think about the nightmare. Instead, I thought about Brady, Cole, and Gideon, and not in a good way. Not in the way I sometimes daydreamed about men when I was in the shower.
This was their fault. If they hadn't brought me out here, I’d have slept in my own bed and utilized the routines that kept the nightmares at bay. They had no right to do this to me.
But they had, and now it was my turn to get back at them. By the end of the week, they’d be sorry as hell they’d dragged me out here.
Really, really sorry.
“Did everyone get enough to eat?” Brady asked. The breakfast spread he’d made was all that he promised and then some, but unlike last night, I picked at my food. I didn’t usually eat a meal that big in the evening, and I wondered if it had contributed to my sleep issues.
“Yes, thanks,” Penny said in a small voice. She wasn’t much of a morning person, but she’d managed to show up for breakfast looking alert and put together.
I, on the other hand, was usually eager to start my day by this point, but not today.
Cole and Brady were the only ones who ate heartily. Gideon was nowhere to be seen, thankfully. Hopefully he’d gone back to his home, wherever it was.
Cole pushed back his plate. “Before we do dishes, I thought we could have a strategy meeting.”
It took me a moment to process his words as I stared at the piece of blueberry waffle I’d speared with my fork. “Strategy?”
“For the rest of the week.”
“What’s there to go over? You’re making me stay here. I don’t want to be here. End of story.”
“Are you always this cheerful in the morning?” Brady asked with a sunny smile. I was beginning to see why so many of my friends hated morning people.
“This isn’t a prison sentence, Lila. If we work together, we can increase the visibility of the inn and get you some good content for your social media channels.” Cole said that in a perfectly reasonable voice, but I didn’t buy it. Not for one second.
“No way. You’re rewriting history. We didn’t come here to help each other out and sing kumbaya. You tricked me, challenged me, and forced me to be here.” With my fork, I smashed the end of a sausage link, wishing I could grind a certain pair of innkeepers into mush instead.
“Wow, we sound like real assholes when you put it that way.” As always, Brady’s voice was good-natured. “Seems surprising that we’d do that to a completely innocent young woman, doesn’t it, Cole?”
“Yeah. Seems like we’d save that kind of thing for someone who wronged us first.”
Penny put her hand on my arm as I prepared to frisbee my waffle at the nearest male target. “It might be a good idea to talk about how the week’s going to go. If we’re all on the same page, it might cut down on the hostility.”
Easy for her to say. Hostility was all I had going for me today. That and caffeine. Thank god for coffee.
“Thank you,” Cole said to Penny. “So, Lila, how often would you normally post something new online in a week’s time?”