I burn. I burn for him-for his touch. Just to feel his flesh beneath my fingertips, to know he is mine. I reach out blindly, feeling his stomach. It is hard, warm, alive. He is alive. It was all just a dream. I roll against him, shoving the sheets out of the way. It is him. I can feel all of him. I can feel him, but I won’t open my eyes. If I do, he might be gone. It seemed so real…

“Shouldn’t you be sleeping?” It smells like him. The breath tickles my ear, warms my face. I smell cedar and gun-the scent he always has, being a police officer. I hook my hand around his neck, smelling his chest. He is here. His hand travels down my back, holding me close. That is all I need. Just to be held. Just to be with him. Just to be happy. “Hey, are you okay?”

“I had the worst dream,” I admit. He tucks my head under his chin, pulling me closer. But not close enough.

“What about, baby?”

“You were gone,” I say truthfully. A tear drops down my cheek as I remember the guns. The bad guys. The blood. “I was all alone. You didn’t come home.”

“Hey, now, I told you I’d always come home. I promised. I’d never let my work take me away from you. It’s dangerous, but-”

“But you never break a promise,” I remember, laughing. He always does this, always tells me these things. I believe him, but I can’t stop the nightmares.

“Are you better? You can hear me. Feel me.” He pulls me even closer and heat flashes beneath my skin, flaring where he touches me. I need more of him-I love him. “I’m here.”

“You are,” I agree. I tilt my head up for a kiss and the moment his lips touch mine, I open my eyes.

I wake up alone.