Carter didn’t know what time it was when he fell into his bed that night. He was drunk, and he had one particular little spitfire on his mind that made practical matters seem pointless. What did it matter if it was two in the morning and he had to be up by eight o’clock?
He could feel the softness of Lucy’s skin even now. He wondered if she was lying in her own bed, staring up at the ceiling, wondering what the hell she’d gotten herself into.
He chuckled. His head spun a little. His bottom lip was numb. That was never a good sign of sobriety. But at the moment, he didn’t give two shits that he’d have a nice hangover in a few hours.
Carter fell asleep on top of his comforter. That was when the dreams came.
The dreams had begun to leave him alone, but this particular one was always the s
