Defamed: Book Three (bxb) ✔️

Chapter Eleven: Nightmare

Cameron Windsor

I gasped when I snapped my eyes open, pushing myself further into the mattress when I saw a figure looming over me. "It's me." And that voice made everything in my body relax. "I'm sorry. You were screaming. I should have turned on the light."

I pushed myself into the sitting position and reached over to flick on the light. I could say I wasn't used to seeing Asher out of his business suits for work, and that was mostly the truth, but the dark blue button-up sleep shirt and pants to match, threw me off.

"It's okay." I rubbed my eyes, trying to adjust as Asher sat on a very small space next to my legs. "I don't remember having a nightmare, but I can usually figure out I've had one. I sweat and wake with a racing heart."

"I couldn't sleep, and I left my room for the kitchen, but I heard you screaming. So, I rushed here instead." He looked so incredibly tired already. Mentally and physically. "Did talking about things today trigger it?"

I shrugged, leaning against the headboard. "It's possible. But I'm not going to stop talking about it. I can't avoid it like I have been for eight years."

"I don't blame you. You know that, right?"

"Yes," I answered because it was the truth. "There was nothing you could have done. And to be completely honest, we might have burned in an inferno anyway. Back then, I was a monster. I was a monster for years. And there is no telling whether I would have been one or not had I told someone."

"We won't ever know." How did a man as tall as Asher appear so small right now? Was it the lack of hair products? The pajamas? Or was it the clear war he was battling? All three. "So much lost time."

I nodded solemnly. "I don't know you anymore. I do, but I don't. I don't know myself. I don't know anything."

"You can get to know me again." Asher offered. "But I don't know how much good that will do."

Humming, I looked at the incredibly defeated boy sitting in front of me. He was thirty, but right now, he looked twenty-one. Broken. Stuck. Nowhere to turn. That twenty-one-year-old version of Asher missed his boyfriend. Missed the person I was. It was completely fair of him to do. Because I missed my boyfriend. I missed who we were. I mourned who we were supposed to be.

I wanted to grant Asher the right to treat me in the only way he knew how when it came to my pain. It would give me access to the same. But it would hurt; I knew it would. Healing was messy. Unpredictable. No one deserved broken pieces of the human I was now. Asher didn't. I was a mess. I punched mirrors when I lost control. I...

Looking down, I saw my sleeves covering my wrists. I was someone who tried to commit suicide because I couldn't handle the mind games. Yet, I knew that even though I struggled, I was still getting better. I was in therapy every single day. I was doing the work expected to get better. I handled Asher differently now than I did three days ago when everything came out.

So, I patted the open space next to me. "Come on then. I can't sleep, and neither can you. Let's have more conversations. We were very good at those."

Asher didn't move right away. He was trying to figure out if my offer was real. He seemed to finally understand that it was and moved to the spot next to me. Not too close and not too far.

A true gentleman who was also true to his word, I suppose.

"What would you like to talk about?" He asked.

I looked at the ceiling. "Do you want dark or dark? There is so much we haven't talked about yet."

"Second one."