Burning Wild

Chapter Thirty

It had been months since the fiery nightmares had plagued my unconsciousness, so when my comatose mind wandered back into the flaming house where I pictured Jake being burned alive, I was thrown for a loop.

My heart pounded violently against my chest when I finally pulled myself from the terrors of the dream. My body was shaking uncontrollably. The images replayed as if on a loop in my mind until, eventually, it was more than I could take. I sprung out of bed and ran to the bathroom, retching into the ceramic toilet bowl over and over again until I had nothing left to give.

I sat on the bathroom floor for an immeasurable amount of time, sobbing into my nightgown. The vivid dreams had always adversely afflicted my mind and toyed with my emotions, but this one tormented me far more on me than the others. I suspected it was because I had become so involved with Jake. I had come to rely on him so much that the notion of losing him was terrifying. I loved him, and I didn't know what I would do without him.

It's just a dream, I reminded myself. The same dream you've had countless times.

Even so, I knew deep down that there was a very real possibility of something like this occurring. Jake had a dangerous job. Sure, he'd helped countless people who might have otherwise perished, but how long could he test fate before he met his own demise in the same gruesome way?  

I got shakily to my feet and splashed cold water on my face in a futile attempt to calm myself. I stood in the doorway of the bathroom for a while, watching Jake and Harley as they slept peacefully, oblivious to my internal turmoil. Even with the commotion, they had not so much as stirred.

It helped ease my trepidations to see Jake for myself; to witness the way his muscled chest moved up and down with each breath, and to hear the gentle snore escaping his lips that told me that he was fine.

Though it was the middle of the night and I was exhausted, I knew I would never be able to get back to sleep. So I wrapped a robe around my shoulders, grabbed my laptop, and tiptoed downstairs. I turned on the coffee pot, the smell of freshly ground beans filling the room. I knew that I didn't really need the coffee; I was still wide awake from the nightmare.

I allotted most of my morning to planning the vacation that Jake and I would be taking in two weeks' time. I still remembered the rush of excitement I felt when we wrote locations we wanted to visit on slips of paper and, with a sense of spontaneity, drew one out of a hat.

Since then I had spent countless hours researching the castles and cathedrals of Prague, charting a course so Jake and I could see as much as possible during our five-day stay. It would be a final hurrah for us, a way of celebrating our new life together, before packing our bags and making the move to San Diego. 

A few hours passed before Jake walked into the kitchen, freshly shaved and showered. I was lost in the world of architecture, but that didn't stop him from immediately grabbing my hand, lifting me from my seat at the dining room table, and pulling me into his arms.

"Good morning, beautiful," he said, as he whirled me around the kitchen.

My cheerful laughter echoed through the room as he trailed kisses down my neck. Jake was the only person who could lift my spirits so dramatically.

"Jake, stop," I giggled, pressing against his chest gently. I couldn't help but smile at his friskiness.

"Why should I?" he murmured against my skin.

"Because if you don't, you're going to get something started, and you're already late for work as it is," I breathed.

He groaned playfully and set me back on my feet.