Page 81 of Dear Heart, I Miss You (Easton High 3)

I rack my brain, trying to remember it.

To assign the smell to a memory.

A time.

A place.

A person.

I convince myself that I’m crazy. Until I flip onto my side and my cheek comes in contact with something warm and hard. A man’s chest? The last straw is the quiet, regular breathing fanning my cheek.

Holy fucking shit.

Next thing I know, I’m jumping off the mattress and running to turn the light on. My pulse stalls when I see him.

Because the man in my bed… is also the man in my nightmares.