#Chapter159
Heart manic and each breath painful, it took me longer than I should to make sense of what was happening.
/"It was just a bad dream, sweetheart,/" Deacon was saying. His hands cupped my face, much like he had in my dream, but his touch was gentle and kind. I still fought, but once I had managed to sit up and he had backed away, I managed to take in my surroundings.
We were in bed. The lamp on one side was on. Deacon was hovering, and I . . . was crying. Tears rolled down my cheeks and each breath I took was hindered with a sob.
/"Deek?/" I whimpered, holding my arms up to him. He crushed me to him before I had a chance to rethink that thought, pulling me against his chest, kissing the life out of my forehead and dabbing at my tears with the blanket.
/"It was just another bad dream, baby. You're fine./"
