“I really don’t need someone else telling me I’m messed up. I already got that and talking about it isn’t gonna change anything. My dad’s dead. After what he did to us—to Caleb—I wanted him dead. And now I can’t stop thinking about every stupid good thing he’s ever done.” I snorted. “Things that weren’t even that good.”
I put my bowl on the counter and placed my hands on either side of it, leaning forward.
“I’m upset that the guy who beat me up and almost killed my brother died. I’m depressed that the mom that abandoned us because she loved heroin more than her kids is dead. While my friends daydreamed about getting a pony, I spent my childhood imagining my mom coming back to rescue us. I clung to some stupid belief that she’d only leave us for a very, very good reason. Instead, she was shooting up. I don’t need a therapist to know that’s messed up—that I’m messed up.”
“Kella.” Maeve said my name with enough genuine concern that it made me look away. Concern from anyone but Caleb—well, I wasn’t used to it.
“It’s not good for you to let these things build,” Maeve continued. “We can’t let that happen—not with your metal health issues. It would be too dangerous.”
Oh, so she wasn’t worried for me, she was worried about me. Big difference. I swallowed down a fissure of disappointment. “There is no ‘we.’”
Spinning away, I marched out of the kitchen, up the stairs, and into my room, slamming the door shut without meaning to. I plopped down on the floor and cradled my head in my arms.
Dangerous.
Sure, I might “see” things, but it wasn’t like I was one step away from going psycho. Whatever. I’d deal with everything when I was good and ready—when I got Caleb back and stopped drowning in memories.
In the meantime, my only plan consisted of sleeping. A lot.
Chapter 9
At least, I tried to sleep. I tossed and turned, thoughts and memories spiraling together much like dark clouds swirling around the center of a tornado. Only one silver thread weaved through the storm: Caleb. The more I struggled to sleep, the more I saw his face attached to plastic tubing and machinery. The image made me recoil. I’d try to shake it from my head, but my thoughts always boomeranged back. Caleb was the only family I had left.
Eventually, I grew tired of trying to keep my thoughts of Caleb contained. So when my mind flicked over to him again, I looked. Really looked, ignoring the rush of guilt that ate at me as I tried to see past the tubes into his face, his eyes closed in what looked like sleep.
And the more I looked the more real he became—and the more real he became, the more I wanted him to wake up, to say something—anything—to me.
I wanted it so badly it made me shake. I squeezed my eyes tightly shut before opening them once more—finding myself standing, staring straight into his open green eyes.
“Kella.” The way Caleb said my name—like it was a surprise—wrenched at my heart.
“Caleb.” I rushed at him, flinging myself into his arms as I buried my head in his shoulder.
For a second, Caleb didn’t move. Then he chuckled as he wrapped his arms around me, resting his chin on my head. My head bobbed in time to the expansion of his chest as he breathed, the steadiness calming me down, centering me.
Too soon, he shifted in my arms.
“Stop that,” I said, flexing my arms tight around his back.
“Um, I kinda would like to stop hugging now.”
“Not your decision.”
Caleb laughed but stayed put, humoring me. But after a few more seconds, he started squirming again.
“Stop it,” I said.
“I just want to step back so I can see you.”
“Nope. This is my dream and I say you have to stay exactly where you’re at.”
“Huh. That again. Seems like you’re still confused.”
“Hmm?” I tightened my grip on dream-Caleb just in case he thought he was going to change things up on me—like morph into a rat or something. Dreams were stupid like that, and I needed him to be here for me right now.
“This is my dream,” Caleb said.
“Sure. I’m not in the mood to argue right now, so have it your way.”
He grabbed my upper arms and pushed me back so he could see me—really see me—before his gaze wandered to our surroundings. Only then did it register that we were in the same blank, dusky world as the last time I’d dreamt of Caleb.
His brows scrunched together in his adorably nerdy way as his gaze swung back to me, like I was a new math theory-theorem-thingy he was trying to figure out.
“Everything’s kind of like it was that one time.” Caleb picked up a strand of my tangled hair, leaning forward to examine it before he let it drop again. He grabbed my hand and leaned closer still, tracing the veins in my wrist with his fingers.
“You’re so lifelike. I didn’t notice it before, but that’s probably because your hair smelled so bad it distracted me. Which…I don’t remember smelling anything in my dreams before. Come to think of it, my dreams have never been this detailed. Ever.”
I opened my mouth, about to say something about him always overthinking everything, but then I remembered my last conversation with Deena.
Kate.
With all the studying, and him being in the ICU, and finding out that Dad died, I’d forgotten that Caleb had told me the real name of his nurse last time I’d dreamt of him. Nurse Kate was legit.
I licked my lips and shut my mouth. I didn’t want to tell Caleb about it and risk him wasting what little time we had together dissecting something that was probably nothing more than a…a really weird coincidence.
As it was, Caleb was turning around in a circle, examining our surroundings carefully. He tried running a hand through the fog
