A woman sits behind the front counter when I walk through the sliding glass doors. I don’t look at her as I pass by. The key to looking inconspicuous is to act like you belong. She lifts her head for a moment, but then drops it back down to her computer monitor.
I step into the elevator, ride up three floors, then step off. The lights in the hallway seem to be dimmer than they are during the day, and most of the patient rooms are dark. Luckily, I don’t have to walk by the nurses’ station as I make my way to Jules’s room. The door is open all the way and a glance inside shows the room is empty except for the woman in the bed.
I walk in and a sweet, familiar scent hits me. Wildflowers. The same scent I smelled in my dream on Silver Landing, which tells me it’s not an artificial scent, but Jules’s natural one. This time, she’s lying flat on her back. It’s apparent the nurses come in and move her around to prevent bed sores from forming.
It’s dark in the room except for a soft light over the bed that’s turned down low. I walk up and look down at the beautiful woman. Her brown eyelashes rest against her smooth cheeks and the thick rope of her long braid lies on the pillow beside her head. With her hands resting on her stomach, she almost looks like a child peacefully sleeping.
Pure innocence. That’s what she portrays.
I reach out and finger the loose end of her braid. I haven’t dreamed about her since the night I first walked into her room, and for the first time since I started having them, I feel the loss of their absence. Now that I know she’s real, I want to know what the dreams mean.
I lift the end of her braid and bring it to my nose. Closing my eyes, I inhale. I’m surprised when I smell something fruity instead of the antiseptic scent of the basic shampoo hospitals normally use.
Spotting a chair on the other side of the vital signs monitor, I put her braid back down and go grab it. I place it beside the bed where I have a clear view of the door, so I can see if someone comes in.
Taking a seat, I lean back in the chair with my elbows propped on the armrests, lace my fingers together, and rest my chin on them. I stare at the woman for long moments, thinking of the puzzle of her role in my dreams. With the late hour and the adrenaline dump from my visit to Chase, my eyes become scratchy with sleep.
I jerk my head up when I hear a noise at the door. Something black flashes across the doorway, and I jump up to see what it is. By the time I look out into the hallway, there’s nothing there. Uneasiness creeps across my spine. Obviously, it was either someone like me who was not supposed to be here, didn’t want me to know they were here, or didn’t want to visit while someone else was visiting.
My eyes catch on Nurse Edith, who’s standing at a shelf holding supplies, looking at me. I tip my chin at her, hoping she won’t force me to leave. A soft look enters her eyes and she smiles gently before turning and walking away.
With one final look up and down the hallway, I walk back into the room and retake my seat, my tiredness from moments ago wiped away. Keeping the doorway in my peripheral vision, I settle my eyes back on the woman and simply watch her.
CHAPTER FIVE
Luca
MY EYES SPRING OPEN, and I’m met with darkness. Not the pitch-black of the dream I just woke from, but the usual darkness at night in my room. I stare up at the ceiling while my racing heart has a chance to calm down.
In my dream, I was back in the black nothingness filled with those tiny specks of light. This time when she appeared, I called her by her name. The sad look in her eyes disappeared for a fraction of a moment and something light and beautiful lit her face. It was the first time I had seen anything other than darkness in her expression. She was beautiful before, but when the misery wasn’t present, she was absolutely stunning.
I was surprised when I moved forward and her translucent form stayed in place. Her amber eyes watched me as I took the steps separating us. Her wildflower scent assailed me when I stopped only inches from her.
She didn’t speak, but she didn’t need to. The ever-present torment in her eyes spoke for her. It told tales of unspoken pain and unbearable sadness. The need to reach out to her, to pull her into my arms and care for her was crippling. The moment I lifted my hand and tried to grab hers, it slipped through her form, leaving behind a chill rushing through my body and a pain so sharp in my chest it had me sucking back a hiss.
“Jules.” My voice broke saying her name.
Her eyes closed as if she was relishing the sound of my voice saying her name. When she opened them a moment later, they grew wide, right before she threw back her head and screamed so loud it pierced my ears. Her back bowed backward, her arms thrown out beside her. I felt completely fucking helpless as agony tore through her.
Almost as fast as it started, the screaming stopped, and she burst into thousands of pieces. She left me feeling broken along with her.
Back in my room, the darkness gives way to the slowly rising sun. I rub the spot on my chest that hurts and pull in a deep breath.
Last night at the hospital, I stayed for hours watching over her, until I knew I had to leave before a different nurse entered the room. They may not be as susceptible to having me there, and I’d prefer to not get caught because I’m not done visiting Jules. I need to stay off radar.
Rubbing my hands down my face, I get out of bed and throw on a pair of jogging pants and a white T-shirt before going to the bathroom. After taking a piss, brushing my teeth, and splashing cold water on my face, I grab my phone from the nightstand and head out to the front door.
My morning routine usually consists of a workout session, but today I need fresh air, so I opt to go for a run instead.
My feet pound the pavement as I take the broken down and neglected streets of southside Silver Hills. Sweat beads my forehead and slides down my cheeks, and I welcome the new ache forming in my chest. This burning pain I can handle, and even welcome.
I pass by old abandoned buildings barely standing, along with a few shops that still manage to stay open. The sorry excuse for an elementary school the city refuses to remodel flies by. There’s a couple of cars in the empty lot, parked driver window to driver window. Drug dealers making a deal, no doubt. School doesn’t start for another hour, so there’s no kids present, but the sight still disgusts me.
I round a corner and the tracks that separate one side of town from the other loom ahead. When I get within a few feet of them, I stop. Bending over, I rest my hands on my knees to give myself a few minutes to catch my breath.
When I stand back up, I use the bottom of my shirt to wipe away the sweat coating my face. I look past the railroad tracks to the north side and notice the differences. The other side has solid roads with no cracks or potholes. They don’t have trash littering the ground. Even the fucking grass is greener on the other side. I roll my eyes at the stupid pun. It’s like the city council has forgotten this part of town even exists.
I’m not bitter about the place I live or how I grew up. Mom and Dad did the best they could with what they had. What pisses me off is there are good families that live on the south side. Good families that have bad shit happen to them because of the piss-poor way the city takes care of this side.
I turn on my heel and start back toward home. Five miles seems like a long way, especially after already running the same distance, but the strain on my muscles and the pang in my ribs feel good. Better than the pain I feel every time I wake from a dream.
I’m halfway home when I spot a familiar car coming toward me. It pulls to a stop on the opposite side of the road, and I walk over. Beck, a good friend of mine, throws his fist out the window and I bump mine against it.
“Hey, man. How’s it going?”
“Same shit,” I grunt.
He pulls a pack of cigarettes from his shirt pocket, sticks one in his mouth, then lights it. Through a puff of smoke, he asks, “How’s Ella?”
My jaw tightens at the mention of my sister.