How She Came Home

Chapter Thirty-Seven

"No!"

The yell tore Becca from her sleep, shooting up in bed, wild-eyed and her heart racing as she immediately became alert.

Rubbing at her eyes, she blinked and looked beside her, Freen propped up on her side as she turned away from Becca, head bowed and shoulders tense as her quick, shallow breaths sounded ragged in the ensuing silence.

Becca was hesitant to touch her for a moment as panic settled in, but she slowly placed a hand on her shoulder, feeling her pulse race beneath the cotton. This was something Becca didn't know how to fix, something she'd only seen the surface of when Freen sometimes jerked away, a cold sweat covering her as she breathed quickly.

This was more .

"Hey, you're okay," Becca murmured, a concerned look clouding her face.

Freen didn't shrug her touch off, and after a few moments, Becca felt the tension unwind and she rolled back onto her back.

With a subdued sigh, Freen ran a hand over her face and then blinked, her poor vision making her squint as she reached out and fumbled for her glasses before jamming them on her face.

"Good morning," Freen said, her voice thick with sleep and slightly scratchy as she smiled tiredly, cheeks pink and creased with the seam of the pillows.

It was a clear morning, the sky a pale blue as the early morning sunrise slanted in through the windows. Her hair, her skin and even the freckles on her nose seemed to glow golden as she leaned over and kissed Becca slowly before flopping back down onto her back and holding her arms open.

"Freen--"

"I'm fine , baby. It was just a bad dream," Freen evasively murmured, unconvincing but her tone firm, broaching no further arguments from Becca as she cuddled up beside her, throwing an arm across her tanned stomach.

"Do you want to tell me about it?"

"No. Not right now."

There was an undercurrent of pain to her whispered words that made Becca's throat constrict, but she didn't push her.

She listened to the steady drum of her heart as Freen idley trailed her fingertips over the satin skin of her back, touching her distractedly as she let her fingers drag over her back in a featherlight, ticklish touch.

They stayed like that for a few minutes, warm and comfortable and reluctant to leave their bed. It would have been enough for Becca to stay there for two weeks, her eyes half- lidded as she luxuriated in the feeling of Freen's warmth surrounding her, the smell of her on the sheets, her slowing breaths as whatever panic had gripped her slowly retreated.

Absentmindedly running her fingers through Becca's hair, Freen let out a soft sigh.

"We need to talk," she slowly said, wariness curling around her words as she stared up at the ceiling. "About me reenlisting."

Becca closed her eyes, swallowing thickly as her stomach swooped. "Can't we just have breakfast first?"

"You can't keep avoiding the conversation," Freen said with thin amusement, reaching up to press her fingertips to Becca's cheek.

Rolling away from her touch, Becca sat up and ran a hand through her hair as she swung her legs off the edge of the bed and hunched her shoulders.

Freen's hand reached across the mattress for her, urging her to come back into her embrace, but Becca didn't see, head bowed as she rubbed at her forehead.

"I'm not avoiding it; I'd just prefer not to have it right now."

"Becca--"

"Freen."