Page 72 of The Rut in the Road

“Rayn?” He sounded worried.

I scrambled up, my feet still uncoordinated and tangled up in my own head. I half-collided with the door, but managed to flip the lock and pull it open, to find a worried Raj on the other side.

I swallowed, barely able to hold back the tears.

“Are—”

I fell into his chest, giving up on trying to keep myself under control.

“Hey,mera ravi,what happened?” I could almost feel his confusion as he gently herded me into the room, one arm around me.

I felt him bend to put down the brown paper bag he was holding in his other hand, then he wrapped me in both arms, holding me tightly. “It’s okay,” he murmured into my hair. “Whatever it was, it’s okay now.”

I sniffled. “I’m sorry,” I mumbled into his shoulder. “I?—”

“Nightmare?” he asked softly.

I pulled back a little, looking up at him in confusion. “How did?—”

He grimaced, although he softened the expression by brushing my hair out of my face with one hand, the other still around me. “I feel it,” he said, his voice low and gentle.“Whenever you have a nightmare. Whether I’m here or not. Awake or asleep.”

I felt my face flush. “I’m sorry,” I rasped, dropping my gaze.

“Don’t be,” he replied, pulling me close again. “You don’t ever have to be sorry for something like that.”

I sighed, leaning into him and letting his solid warmth ease the cold out of my subconscious. “I still wish it didn’t happen,” I grumbled into his shirt.

He let out a soft rumble of sound that I didn’t really understand, despite the fact that he did it fairly often. I wasn’t sure I wanted to ask, since I was afraid I wouldn’t like the answer.

I stepped back, drawing a deep breath to steady myself. “I should know better than to let myself fall asleep,” I said firmly.

“Let yourself?” Raj sounded incredulous. “Rayn, you’re exhausted. You need to sleep.”

I grimaced as I turned and led the way into the kitchen. Much as I wanted to stay close to him, I didn’t want to sink back into the beanbag chair. Sitting at the kitchen table would at least guarantee that my body wouldn’t feel tempted to fall asleep again. “I need to actuallysleep,” I replied. “Not have nightmares.”

He grunted, a sound I did understand—he agreed with me, but he also recognized that it wasn’t actually in my control. He made that sound a lot, especially at work.

But he picked up the brown bag that presumably held our dinner and followed me into the kitchen, setting it on the table as I pulled down glasses and got out plates and utensils. I didn’t notice the logo on the bag until I turned around to set down the dishes.

“You got Secret Sandwich Society?” For some reason, that hit me rather hard emotionally. It was the same place we’d first haddinner, although it hadn’t yet been a date. It was also what he’d brought me in the hospital after rescuing me.

Raj shrugged, pulling boxes out of the bag. “I thought maybe you’d like something a little… special.”

I liked the fact that he thought of it as special, too. That it meant something more than just food. Right now, I needed whatever threads of support and affection I could get.

I settled myself in one of the two chairs and waited for Raj to finish unpacking the bag. He took two boxes to the fridge and stuck them inside.

“What’s that?” I asked him, not remembering anything we’d ever gotten from Secret Sandwich Society needing to be chilled.

“Dessert,” he answered, then opened the biggest container, revealing the loaded pimento-cheese fries. Then he took one plate and pulled the contents of a box out on the thin parchment paper that lined the box, then passed me a Lafayette Sandwich with house-made chips, a half-smile on his lips. “You’re going to get sick of this sandwich,” he teased.

I shook my head. If we went more often, I might get something else sometimes, but I both liked the Lafayetteandhad good memories associated with it, so it was providing me with both food and emotional comfort.

I wasn’t sure if that was normal or healthy.

At that precise moment, I didn’t care.

Raj finished pulling his own sandwich—a burger, as usual—out onto the other plate, then settled across from me at the table, eyeing me.