Marco.
I could taste bile rising at the back of my throat. Panic seized my chest and I let out a wordless scream.
I woke up in a sweaty tangle of sheets.
I’m okay.
A high-pitched meow came from the left side of my bed, and I cracked my eyes open to take a look. The brown fur and heart-shaped spot on its back immediately told me it was Taylor.
I’m okay, Marco isn’t here.
Groaning, I pushed myself up against the headboard as Taylor climbed over the mountain of sheets and into my lap.
I’m okay, Marco’s in prison far away. He can’t hurt me anymore.
I thought about Dr. Schwartz’s advice regarding Marco. Should I write him a letter to ask why he killed my mom? What would he say? Would he really tell me just because I asked? Is that all I needed to banish him from my dreams?
I shook my head and tried to focus on the present. I could deal with that later. Right now I had an adorable kitten who wanted some attention.
Of course it had to be Taylor waking me up. She was such a trouble-maker. I was glad she had woken me up, though. This time. I rubbed her back gently, while she kneaded the sheets on my lap, trying to find a comfortable spot.
Her gentle purring helped to slow down the erratic beating of my heart. I sucked in a few deep breaths to calm myself down and get Marco’s face out of my mind. I tried to recall my father’s face, but all I saw was the fuzzy, out-of-focus image from my dream.
When I turned to the clock I saw that it was eight. Yesterday, I had slept in until one in the afternoon before going to see Dr. Schwartz. So much had happened in the span of a day; I was actually feeling a lot better. I didn’t know if it was because of the therapy session, or the fact that Hunter and I had finally had a chance to talk, but I liked it.
Whatever the reason, I wasn’t about to let a stupid dream ruin my mood.
I reassured myself that I knew what my father’s face looked like. He’d always had dark curly hair that fell across his forehead. Sometimes his hair would get into his eyes and he’d brush it away with a wave of his hand. Were his eyes black or dark brown? No, no they were definitely black. Damnit, the dream was bothering me more than it should.
I took a shower and threw on a pair of sweatpants and an old sweater before heading downstairs to the kitchen. On my way there, I passed by Rampage and Frida chasing each other in the hallway.
The savory aroma of bacon reached my nose before I even got to the kitchen, and my stomach rumbled loudly. Aunt Caroline must have made breakfast already. I smiled at the thought of my aunt’s delicious, calorie-laden breakfasts. They would be the perfect way to get my mind off of the dream.
When I got to the kitchen I was surprised to see that it was not my aunt, but Hunter at the stove. He was wearing a white t-shirt, his biceps bulging tightly against the sleeves. His cute butt filled up the jeans he was wearing. I smiled to myself guiltily. I guess I could still enjoy that part of Hunter.
Aunt Caroline was sitting at the kitchen table, sipping a cup of coffee.
She beamed at me when she saw me, her eyes twinkling. “Good morning, Lorrie. Hunter just made us and the boys breakfast. How are you feeling?”
Hunter turned around and gave me a quick smile. It was still so surreal to see him standing in Aunt Caroline’s kitchen. A concerned look flashed across his face for a second and he turned back to the stove. It seemed like we both wanted a chance to talk alone soon.
“I’m okay,” I said. “I see the kittens have taken no time to get adjusted to the house.”
Aunt Caroline let out a hearty laugh, “You have no idea. Your uncle was quite surprised to find a fuzzball next to his face this morning! Which one is it, the one with the spot on his back?”
I smiled with her. “That must’ve been Taylor, she woke me up too. Did Uncle Stewart go off to work already?”
She nodded. “Mmhm, just a few minutes ago.”
Hunter put a plate in front of me, with scrambled eggs and slices of bacon. My stomach grumbled its approval loudly.
“Breakfast’s served,” he said, with a small wink just for me.
Then he turned to my aunt. “Would you like some more food, Ms. Perkins?”
She waved him off, patting her stomach for emphasis. “I’m way too full. Please, have the rest yourself.”
Hunter shrugged and plated himself a mountain of food. I couldn’t help but smile when I noticed what he was wearing over his t-shirt. I hadn’t noticed it earlier when his back was turned, but now it was hard not to laugh at his tattooed arms poking out of Aunt Caroline’s frilly apron. I raised an eyebrow at him.
Hunter joined us at the table and looked at me confused for a second before his eyes lit up in realization. “Oh yeah, your aunt insisted that I wear it. She didn’t want me messing up my clothes.”