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Emma jerked in bed, her chest heaving with choked-off breaths. She opened her eyes and saw darkness; tears streamed from her eyes as her fear ratcheted up the panic in her brain.
Kicking the blankets off in a frantic thrash brought a blast of cold air that made her feel like she’d jumped into a bathtub of ice. Her limbs trembled and her lip quivered.
Whimpering, she reached off the edge of the bed and found nothingness. “W-Where am I?”
Someone clutched her hand, the small palm warm. All her focus narrowed to those fingers. “You’re at Gracefield House.”
Ray. The voice belonged to Ray.
Emma’s breath hitched as her vision cleared. Ray was kneeling beside her bed in the orphanage. She was surrounded by other children, and she was safe.
But what was she so afraid of? She was alert and ready to defend herself--but from what?
Nightmare, she deduced, gulping down precious oxygen to reorient herself.
But she couldn’t calm down. Her heart banged around in her palate and she kept choking on her own breaths.
It was even worse when the memories of the dream slammed back into her brain.
Conny was dead. Conny was dead and there was nothing Emma could do to save her and Emma was going to end up just like Conny and--
“Hey.” Ray gripped her hand tightly, drawing her attention to him. “Whatever it is, you’ll be okay.”
“Conny’s dead,” she whispered, the panic building in her throat as nausea. Her teeth chattered and her breaths came thick and fast. “We’re all going to get eaten.”
Ray’s eyes widened. Then he frowned. “Move over.”
“What?”
“Move over, I said.” Ray’s eyes took on the hard, determined cast she’d begun to recognize as Ray-with-a-plan.
He released her hand--she was reluctant to let him go--and shoved her shoulder. Stunned, Emma scooted over, only to have him crawl into the bed with her. He slipped a hand under her neck, resting her head on his upper arm.
Wrapping his other arm around her belly and ribs, Ray tugged Emma’s back against his chest. He breathed deeply, and as she felt the steadying rise and fall of his chest against her spine, her own breathing calmed ever so slightly.
Just for good measure, Ray looped his foot around her ankle, bending his knee a bit into her leg as he was taller than she was. He pressed a kiss to the back of her head, and she leaned into his touch.
“Ssh,” Ray whispered, squeezing her tightly around her middle. “You’re still gasping.”
Emma’s breath hitched. “Sorry.”
Ray shook his head, and she felt his nose brush her hair. “Don’t be sorry. This is a scary thing.”
Emma grimaced, her brow furrowing. The tears she’d been crying before started up again in earnest, rolling down her cheeks and making her face hot. She wept bitterly for Conny, for her own shattered innocence, for Norman and Ray and everyone else at the orphanage who was going to die.
Ray’s angry mutter caught her by surprise. “I can hear you thinking.”
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry.”
Emma sniffled. “How can I not be? I’m… I shouldn’t be losing control like this. How did you handle finding out?”
Ray paused for a bit, making Emma’s heart drop to her belly like a stone. Then he spoke and put her mind at ease, even though she didn’t know what he meant. “I’ve had a lot of time to come to terms with it. And there’s no shame in crying about something genuinely distressing.”
Until Ray chafed her arms, Emma didn’t even realize she was shivering. Ray was like a furnace at her back, his body heat encompassing her in warmth she didn’t know she needed.
“Your hands are like ice,” he said, intertwining his fingers with hers. He pulled her even closer, bringing her hand up to rest against her sternum. “Why’d you kick the blankets off?”
Emma gulped. “I… I was scared.”
Ray covered the two of them with her blankets. He craned his neck, pressing his cheek to hers. Her tears stained his face, and Emma felt guilty for getting him wet.
He swallowed against the back of her head. “I promise I won’t let anything happen to you. As long as you’re safe, that’s all that matters.” He sighed. “And you’re allowed to be scared.”
Emma opened her mouth on a wordless cry, kept quiet because she didn’t want to wake up the other kids. Given permission to be afraid, she trembled in Ray’s hold, giving herself completely over to her fear.
Ray stayed silent, allowing her to cry herself out. With him as a stalwart source of support, Emma was able to turn her panic over in her hands and examine it from all angles. She recognized her anxiety as born from grief, which Mama Isabella had said was just love with nowhere else to go.
Thinking on how Conny’s life was stolen from her all too soon, a rush of anger flooded Emma’s face and heated her cheeks. She clenched her fingers around Ray’s, gritting her teeth. “It’s not fair.”
As always, Ray knew the correct thing to say. “No, it’s not. What are you going to do about it?”
“I’m… I’m gonna get everyone out.”
“Everyone?” Emma heard the raised brows in his tone. “Emma, I don’t think that’s--”
“I can do it.” Emma frowned. “You don’t think I can do it?”
Ray hesitated, and Emma’s frown deepened. “You can do anything you put your mind to, Emma.”
Emma nodded against his arm but then yawned. “Thanks, Ray.”
Ray cuddled her closer. “Sleep, Emma. You deserve a good rest.”
Emma’s panic came back into sharp relief. “And you won’t go anywhere?”
“No.” Ray squeezed her tight, putting her at ease. “I’ll stay right here.”
Emma’s shoulders sagged. Her eyes grew heavy, so she closed them. As she relaxed, her legs twitched involuntarily. Ensconced in Ray’s embrace, she yawned once more and then gave herself completely over to sleep.
***
Ray waited until Emma was asleep before lifting his head. She looked so peaceful in repose; all he wanted to do was brush her hair off her cheek, but he was trapped beneath her.
He lay back down on the pillow.
I will do whatever it takes to get you out of here, Emma, Ray vowed. Whatever it takes.