Brett watched her sleep. How could she have gotten even more beautiful than she’d been before? Madi looked like an angel, her long, blonde lashes touching her cheeks. He smiled to himself and closed his eyes, letting sleep take him too.
Brett awoke to his own screams as he threw himself upright on the bed. He was drenched in sweat, and his heart felt like it was coming out of his ribcage. He tried to calm himself as he turned to Madi who just looked up at him, her hand to her chest.
“Are you alright?” he asked. She just nodded, shaken. “I’m sorry. I had a bad dream.”
He tried to reorient himself with his surroundings. He’d been back in the McLaren as the big truck had collided with it. He could feel the twisting metal, the momentum swinging them around, and heard the crushing sound of the car… Viscous, crimson red liquid covered him in a blanket of sticky warmth. Everything had been in slow motion.
“It’s ok, I did too. I wasn’t sure at first which one of us was screaming.” Madi looked around, sniffing as Brett slowed his breathing and took her hands. “I don’t want to stay here, Brett.” Her eyes were deep pits of emotion.
He simply nodded and jumped up off the bed. “Ok, grab what you need and get dressed. We’ll go to my place.”
Madi yawned as they headed down the road. Brett’s house was an old, colonial-style house about 20 minutes from Madi’s. It was a beautiful, three-story white beast with at least a dozen bedrooms and half a dozen bathrooms on a solid twenty acres of land. Brett had always wanted acreage and horses and privacy, and when he’d found it, he knew he was home. It was traditional with a few modern niceties—new stainless-steel kitchen appliances and countertops as well as a new stove hood and backsplash. The architecture was what he’d fallen in love with so he’d tried to keep to the original wallpaper and furnishings as much as possible—the hand-carved wooden bannisters and rustic fireplace, the original wooden floors, the crown molding and huge back porch. Madi had also loved the house. She was a sucker for old houses, and his had been built in 1891. He’d had a lot of work on his hands to begin with, but he’d hired a terrific contractor; within eight months, he was moving in.
When they pulled up into the gated drive, he punched the code into the keypad and glanced over at Madi as the gates slowly swung open. Her head leaned against the window, her knees drawn into her chest. He smiled to himself and drove down the long driveway to his large, farm house. He sighed, feeling grateful to be home for the first time in days. Once he was parked in the garage, he came around to Madi’s side and scooped her up. She stirred as her head hit his shoulder and was out again.
Brett opened the door and shuffled inside, turning off the alarm and pushing the door shut with his leg. He carried her up the staircase and to his bed, pulled off her shoes, and tucked her in.
He walked back over to the monitor and reset the house alarm. Then he took the big recliner across from the bed and pulled the lever, readjusting himself as his feet went up. He just sat watching Madi for the longest time until he finally closed his eyes.
CHAPTER TWO
Madi awoke to the light of the sun in her eyes and Brett watching her from the recliner. She blinked several times then stretched and sat up, pulling the comforter from her legs. Brett stood and walked over to her.
“You ok?” he asked.
She nodded. Her eyes felt itchy and sore from crying and a lack of adequate sleep; she was sure there were dark circles beneath them. “Just numb.”
He sat down on the bed next to her and rubbed her knee through her flannel PJs. “I know. It’s gonna be like that for a while though. Just remember, one day at a time.” She nodded. “Want some coffee?” Again, she nodded. “Ok, let’s go.”
Brett took her hand as he led them downstairs and into his bright, yellow kitchen. He began making coffee as Madi turned the house alarm off and grabbed a fleece blanket from the living room, stepping out onto the covered back porch. She wrapped it around her shoulders and picked her usual spot, in a wooden rocking chair in the middle of the expansive wrap-around porch, looking out on the dense fog rolling along the dewy green pasture.
Once the coffee was made, Brett brought two mugs out and joined her in the rocking chair next to hers. They sipped their hot coffee in silence as they watched the sun peak over the distant crest of the Blue Ridge mountains, their breath and mugs steaming in the cold chill of the morning. Brett’s horses, Bandit and Senora, grazed near the fence closest to the porch, the haze of morning fog floating behind them. It was a beautiful, peaceful morning with various birds chirping to them from nearby oak trees overhanging the property.
At any other time, Madi would smile and feel rejuvenated to be here on one of her favorite
