Page 115 of The Professor's Wife

I nodded, blinking back tears. “I just wish I didn’t feel so alone.”

“You’re not alone,” she said firmly. “You have Rowe. You have me.”

I smiled, but it felt fragile. “Thanks, June.”

She leaned her head on my shoulder. “Promise me something?”

“What?”

“Don’t let anyone make you feel small.”

I didn’t understand then. I thought she was being protective. I’d been on my own with hardly any friends and no serious dates.

But now, after everything, I wondered if she saw something in me I didn’t. A weakness about myself. A vulnerability that put me at risk.

I wondered if she was trying to warn me.

And I didn’t listen.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

“Out of the darkness, Daisy.”

My eyes whipped open.

My mouth felt dry.

My throat…

It was tight. Like someone had wrapped their hands around it and squeezed.

I sat up, pushing away from Tristan’s arm. I moved so suddenly that I almost fell out of bed from panic.

“Daisy?” Tristan’s sleepy voice broke through the early morning air.

I barely heard him, too focused on the blackness of my dream. Of the screams. Of June’s hand reaching out for me in the dark.

I whimpered loudly, the choked cry tight in my lungs. I didn’t realize I was crying until I tasted the salt in my mouth.

“Daisy.”

Tristan’s voice was closer. I couldn’t focus on his presence. Not when the dream sat at the edge of my vision. I reached my hand out, trying to grasp it.

Something is wrong. Something bad is going to happen—

Arms wrapped around me, and I jolted. Terror struck. I thrashed for only a moment before his mouth pressed againstmy ear, his chest tight against my back. “Calm down, baby. It was a nightmare. You’re awake now.”

I pushed away from him, though. My throat was on fire. I rushed to the front seat of the van, tripping over my own feet, and put down the sun visor. I inspected my throat in the mirror, feeling my back tighten at Tristan’s presence behind me.

“Daisy.”

What have you done, Daisy?

The sun lit up my skin, showing me there was nothing on my throat. No marks or redness. Nothing except the scratches I was making as I searched for it.

I expected to feel better.

To know it was just a violent dream.