Chapter 40

With a low groan, Teresa shifted and turned away from him. Jonathan nuzzled closer to her neck, taking in her scent. “Honey…” he whispered, his hands beginning to roam as they slipped beneath her nightgown.

Teresa spent a fitful night, her sleep marred by a vivid nightmare where she felt a heavy burden on her legs and the sensation of hands touching her. She pleaded for the ordeal to end, and gradually, the oppressive force subsided. The experience was like being held captive by an unseen force, rendering her unable to move under its crushing weight.

As the room filled with morning light, Teresa woke up with aching shoulders from sleeping in an awkward posture. Her eyes opened, and for a brief moment, she was confused because she saw Jonathan’s face. She gasped, then made herself calm down. Convincing herself it was all a dream—Jonathan next to her, his arm around her waist—she pondered if she should rest her eyes for a moment to regain her composure.

At that thought, Teresa closed her eyes and breathed deeply, and when she opened them again, Jonathan’s face was still there. “Is this a dream within a dream?” she mused.

Teresa, still half-asleep, gave Jonathan’s cheek a disbelieving pinch. The reality of his presence hit her—this wasn’t a dream. Jonathan’s eyes suddenly opened, meeting Teresa’s, and they both stared in shock.

Teresa’s surprise quickly turned to rage. “What are you doing in my bed, Jonathan? Get out now!” she yelled, kicking him out of her bed. Jonathan sat there, dumbfounded, trying to recall the night’s events, his brow knotted in a frown. Without waiting for an explanation, Teresa launched a pillow at him. “You’re insane, breaking in like this in the middle of the night!”

Jonathan caught the pillow with a sigh, his confusion evident. “I probably got hammered and lost my way. But seriously, six sixes? That code is way too easy.”

Teresa scoffed and threw another pillow at him. “I can set my code to whatever I like. You broke in, and I’m calling the police.”

If Teresa had a heart condition, finding a man next to her in bed would have been a real scare. Thankfully, it was Jonathan, someone she knew well; it would have been a nightmare if it had been a stranger.

“I was hammered last night, I swear,” Jonathan remarked, rubbing his temple. Teresa gave him a pointed look. “So what? We’re over, remember? Why come crawling to me when you’re drunk?”

Silence fell as Jonathan’s gaze turned inscrutable and intense. Catching his strange look, Teresa glanced down to see her nightdress, straps slipping off, revealing more than she was comfortable with. “You’re such a creep! Still staring, aren’t you?” she said, crossing her arms over her chest and leaving the room in a huff.

His throat still dry from the night’s drinking, Jonathan swallowed hard. “I’ve seen it all before,” he croaked, his voice rough. “No need to rush off so quickly.”

Teresa quickly locked Michael’s bedroom door, knowing he’d sleep until at least eight in the morning. She grabbed her jacket from the couch, slipped it on, and turned to find Jonathan almost right in front of her. His morning voice was a bit raspy as he looked down at her and asked, “Where’s the kitchen? I’m parched.”

“Down the hall, to your right,” Teresa replied, steering him away from Michael’s room. She was vigilant about keeping him away from her son’s space.

In the kitchen, Jonathan held a water glass and a nearly empty bag of snacks, his brow furrowed in thought. Teresa’s heart fluttered with recognition—the snacks were what Michael had left behind.