Page 16 of The Rut in the Road

Not in the abandoned house and not at Tranquil Brook.

“Rayn!”

Again, my name in that achingly familiar voice, low and resonant. Worried.

Panic hit me.

Why was he here? Had he been there, at Tranquil Brook, and I’d somehow forgotten? Had he been the reason Garraway had found me?

“RAYN!”

I sat up,hands over my face, my heart still pounding. I groaned between clenched teeth, realizing, as wakefulness pushed awaythe thick horror, thatof courseRaj hadn’t been at Tranquil Brook or with Garraway.

Beside me, on the wooden box that served as my nightstand, my phone started buzzing, the screen lighting up.

I sighed, feeling even guiltier as I realized that I must have pulled him into my nightmare, then picked up the phone. “I’m sorry,” I told Raj immediately. “I didn’t mean to.”

“Are you okay?” he asked, and his voice sounded gravelly and rough. Tired. Worried. Not angry, though. Even though I’d yet again invaded his sleeping mind, this time dragging him forcibly into my own awful subconscious.

“Fine,” I mumbled. “Just a bad dream.”

“Jesus,” he rasped. “And I thought the one you pulled me out of was bad.”

It definitely hadn’t been fun—he’d been trapped by strangling roses somewhere in a garden. Except I’d been able to find him and free him. And he’d?—

He’d pushed me out of mine, too.

It had been his voice. But his actual voice, yelling at me in order to wake me up.

“Sorry,” I mumbled again.

“Did you mean to have a nightmare?” he asked me.

I couldn’t tell if he was making a point or actually asking the question, so I answered. “No.”

“Then there’s nothing to be sorry for.”

“You were sleeping,” I pointed out, guilt heavy in my stomach. “I woke you.”

“Technically,” he said, and now his voice sounded almost affectionate. “I woke you.”

It was true. “Yes,” I agreed. “Thank you.”

“Rayn—”

“I should let you sleep,” I said, shame making me want to end this conversation.

“Rayn,” he said again, his voice more forceful.

“I’m sorry,” I repeated.

“Let me come over?” he said, then.

I pulled the phone away from my cheek and looked at it, surprised to note it was barely past midnight. I’d only been asleep for an hour or so—much sooner than I usually managed to fall asleep and into dreams. “You need your rest,” I half-protested, although now that he’d offered, I did very much want him to come over.

“And I’m not going to get any if I’m worried about you,” he replied, and I could hear the rustling sound of him moving around as he spoke. “So if you want me to get any sleep, you should let me come over.”

I swallowed around the emotion that caught in my throat, but he must have taken my silence as unwillingness.