Once I finish retching, I rinse my mouth out and collapse against him. He circles his arms around me tightly like he’s trying to hold the fragments of me together, and I loop my arms around his neck and hold on for dear life. “What happened?” he asks quietly, one hand moving to cradle the back of my head.
I bury my head into his chest, shuddering in a breath. His body heat sears through my flimsy shirt. “Nightmare.”
He pulls back enough to press a kiss against the side of my temple. “I’m sorry,” he says finally, even though it was never his fault, only mine. But it still helps a little. Eventually, I start to breathe again. The nightmare recedes. Right now, it’s just the two of us, rocking back and forth on the bathroom floor.