She was still gasping, and she could barely see anything. While he dragged her backwards, she clawed at the hair in her face, pushing it aside. They were in the water. Some huge body of water. In the middle of the night. She struggled to catch her breath and she glanced around. Jones was behind her and he was pulling her to the shore.
“What's going?” she demanded. “Where are we?”
“The lake,” he grunted.
“What are we doing in the lake?”
“You were sleepwalking,” he panted.
She was shocked. In her entire life, she'd never once slept walk.
She wasn't given time to dwell on it, though. The breeze coming off the lake was chilly and she started shivering right away. Once they hit the rocky edge, Jones didn't hesitate – he swung her up into his arms like she didn't weigh a thing, then carried her towards a set of wooden steps.
“You could have died!” he hissed.
“I didn't know I was out here,” she replied through chattering teeth.
“I woke up, and you were gone, and the front door was wide open. I thought maybe you'd left,” he told her while walking them across the road and up his driveway. She winced at the sound of gravel under his bare feet, but he didn't seem to notice it. “I thought you'd left because I was mean to you.”
“I wouldn't do that,” she said, huddling in closer to his chest, trying to soak up his warmth.
“God, you could've died, Adele. Your car was still here, and I heard a noise, and when I crossed the street and got to the top of the stairs, you were just going under. I've never been so scared before.”
“I'm sorry,” she whispered.
The door to the cabin was still standing open, and he kicked it shut behind them once they were inside. The fire was crackling away in the wood stove, just as warm as before she'd fallen asleep.
Instead putting her down by herself, Jones simply sat down on the bed with her still in his arms, settling her on his lap. Then he grabbed the heavy quilt from the foot of the bed and wrapped it around her as best he could.
“I'm sorry I was mean to you,” he whispered, his hands rubbing over her back and sides. “I'm sorry I don't know how to deal with ... this.”
“I'm sorry, too,” she whispered back, a tear finally escaping. “I don't know why this happened to us. I don't mean to make you feel bad. I never want that. Ever. I just want ...”
She didn't know the words to say. There were too many and not enough, all at once. But Jones nodded in that understanding way she knew so well, then he dropped his head down to rest it against hers.
“I know. I don't ... I don't believe in this kind of stuff, Adele,” he spoke softly. “Yet here you are and here we are, and when I saw you go in that water, I didn't know I could feel fear like that. If I hadn't woken up, you would've drowned. And just thinking that ... I couldn't bear it.”
She closed her eyes and tried to soak up the moment. No more walls, no more barricades. He didn't fully believe in them yet, but he wasn't going to deny it anymore, either. That had to be good enough for her.
For now.
“Adele.”
“Yes?”
“I'm ready to listen now,” he breathed. “Really listen. I won't shut you out again. From now on, it's you and me, until we figure this out.”
She let her eyes drift shut.
“You and me. I'd like that, Jones.”
“I DON'T UNDERSTAND.”
“What?”
“The sleepwalking.”
Jones shifted and she lifted herself so he could move his arm to a more comfortable position.
“You said you were walking into the ocean in your dream,” he said. “Your body was just acting it out in real life. Happens all the time.”
Adele frowned and settled her head against his chest, right over his heart.
“But I don't sleepwalk, I've never done that,” she said. He surprised her by chuckling.
“You did in the hospital.”
“What!?”
“Twice,” he told her. “The doctor decided it was best not to tell your family.”
“When? To where?”
“Once right after I started, in the middle of the night – they found you down the hall. They put an alarm on your bed after that, and were pretty excited, they thought you were waking up. But then it didn't happen again for a long time, not until maybe a week or so before you woke up. I had just gotten done checking your vitals and I was leaving. It was almost like ... like you tried to follow me out the room,” he explained. “I turned around and you were right behind me. Scared the shit out of me.”
Adele was shocked. She sat up so she could look him in the eye.
“I thought coma patients couldn't do stuff like that!”
“They can,” he assured her. “It's not common, but it happens. People in various kinds of vegetative states have been known to do all kinds of things, like laugh, cry, sit up.”
“I didn't know ...” she breathed. Then his arm curled around her shoulders and he gently pulled her back down to the bed.
After she'd stopped shivering, Jones had unwrapped her from the quilt. While she'd gone to change into a second t-shirt of his, he'd gotten rid of the damp blankets they'd been sitting on. By the time she'd come back, he'd spread a different quilt on top of the mattress.
Then she'd climbed beneath the covers, and without hesitating, Jones had slid in next to her. They'd stayed on their separate sides of the mattress for a while, him just listening while she went over her coma dream again. But as she'd gone into more details and he'd asked more questions, they'd drifted together.
It felt natural to be close to him; for them to touch and hold each other, and thankfully he was no longer trying to resist those feelings. So she'd pressed herself against his side and he'd willingly wrapped his arm around her, giving her a squeeze while she'd described the gray party.
Eventually they wound up wrapped around each other without even realizing it. She had one leg twined around his, and an arm draped across his waist. His free hand was drawing lazy circles on her forearm, and it didn't feel strange at all to be so intimate.
“You better not tell my brothers about my little hospital walkabouts,” she finally said. “They'd be pissed.”
He laughed again, the deep sound echoing through his chest and into her mind.
“They always seem pissed,” he joked. “And they were there when you opened your eyes one time.”
“That's when I saw Ocean,” she guessed, then felt him nod.
“Yeah. He got to you just before you closed them – he practically knocked your friend over in the process.”
“He's always been a little overzealous when it comes to me.”
“Understandable.”
Adele watched his fingers for a moment as they moved back and forth over her skin.
“Jones.”
“I love that you use that name,” he breathed, and she felt her cheeks grow warm.
“What happens tomorrow?”
He paused for a long time, then lifted the hand he had cupped around her shoulder. She felt his fingers in her hair, slowly combing through her dark strands.
“We wake up and we see, okay? This is weird, and it's not normal, but we have to find out what's going on. We have to see what this connection is.”
She smiled and snuggled in even closer to his side.
“Are you saying you believe now?”
She couldn't see him, but she knew he was smiling, because she knew him that well.
“I'm saying ... my mind is open to the possibility of the fantastic.”
“Jones,” she snickered.
“What?”
“You talk too much.”
“You know, for some reason, I don't think that fact surprises you.”
30
Ocean had never smoked a day in his life, but that morning, he found himself craving the smell.
She was smoking when you walked down to the coffee shop. Then she blew a cloud of smoke in your face before hopping on a bus. It's her that you're craving.
He'd never been a fan of cigarettes, but he actually didn't mind Zoey's habit. She didn't do it all the time, she'd never left the hospital in the middle of a visit or anything. The cigarette was almost more like an extension of her attitude, and Ocean liked her attitude.
He liked everything about Zoey.
“Yo!”
He turned around at the sound of the shout. River was jogging across the street.
“Hey, thanks for coming,” Ocean said.
“Yeah, I missed you at the thing last night.”
“I ducked out early. I never heard back from Auggie about coffee this morning – is he coming?”
River glanced at his phone.
“He might be a wreck, but he'll be here,” he nodded.
When the youngest Reins brother finally made an appearance, looking like death warmed over, they all headed into the cafe.
“Where the fuck did you go?” August croaked after he'd gotten his coffee. “One minute you were there, the next you were gone.”
“Yeah, I didn't see Zoey there, either,” River added. Ocean scowled. River had always been too observant for his own good.
“Blanke had to go home, so I offered to walk her there.”
He'd tried to sound casual, but his brothers knew him better than he liked to admit. Both perked up – not an easy feat for someone as hungover as August.
“You walked her home, hmmm?” River questioned, rubbing at his chin.
“Like all the way home?” August pressed further.
“Guys, c'mon,” Ocean tried to stop it.
“Like to her front door step?” River was now giving him a shit-eating grin.
“Or like to the front of her panties?” August went straight to the point. Ocean grimaced and threw a napkin in his face.