“So did he.”
Fuck, he couldn’t argue that.
He pulled their hands up the bed and shifted slightly closer before he said gently, “If he was in this room right now, sugar, right now, he wouldn’t want this. He wouldn’t want to hear you say that shit. Dig deep, Tabby. What would he want to hear you say?”
She was silent then he heard her breath hitch before she whispered, “I’d give anything…”
She trailed off and went quiet.
“Baby,” he whispered back.
Her hand jerked and her body slid across the bed to slam into his, her face in his throat, her arm winding around him tight, her voice so raw, it hurt to hear. His own throat was ragged just listening.
“I’d give anything for him to be in this room. Anything. I’d give my hair, and I like my hair. I’d give my car, and Dad fixed that car up for me. I love that car. I’d swim an ocean. I’d walk through arrows. I’d bleed for him to be here.”
She burrowed deeper into him and Shy took a deep breath, pressing closer, giving her his warmth. He wrapped an arm around her and pulled her tighter as she cried quietly, one hand holding his tight.
He said nothing but listened, eyes closed, heart burning, to the sounds of her grief.
Time slid by and her tears slowly stopped flowing.
Finally, she said softly, “I dreamed a dream.”
“I dreamed a dream,” she repeated.
He tipped his head and put his lips to the top of her hair but he had no reply. He knew it sucked when dreams died. He’d been there. There were no words to say. Nothing made it better except time.
Then she shocked the shit out of him and started singing, her clear, alto voice wrapping around a song he’d never heard before, but its words were gutting, perfect for her, what she had to be feeling, sending that fire in his heart to his throat so high, he would swear he could taste it.
“Les Mis,” she whispered when she was done.
“The musical. Les Misérables. Jason took me to go see it. It’s very sad.”
If that was a song from the show, it fucking had to be.
She pressed closer. “I dreamed a dream, Shy.”
“You’ll dream more dreams, baby.”
“I’ll never dream,” she whispered, her voice lost, tragic.
“We’ll get you to a dream, honey,” he promised, pulling her closer.
She pressed in, and he listened as her breath evened out, felt as her body slid into sleep, all the while thinking her hair smelled phenomenal.
Shy turned into her, trapping her little body under his and muttering, “We’ll get you to a dream.”
Tabby held his hand in her sleep.
Shy held her but didn’t sleep.
The sun kissed the sky and Shy’s eyes closed.
When he opened them, she was gone.