My covers were yanked from a sleepy grasp, followed by a sharp, high-pitched gasp for air. It hadn't come from me, and now I was wide awake. The man who was sleeping beside me only moments ago was now sitting up, gasping for air and scratching at his neck.

"Ollie!" I sat up and got to my knees beside him. He continued to fight for his air, eyes wide and panicked. "Ollie, what's wrong?"

Using both hands, I held his face, forcing him to look at me—a hard feat in a room that was currently dark. Reaching to the bedside table, I turned on the light. Ollie wasn't speaking, just hyperventilating the same way I do when having Steve-induced panic attacks. Sweat was pouring from his skin; even though to the touch, he was still cold from the freezing room. Ollie clutched my wrists tightly and pulled me closer.

"Breathe," I whispered, pecking the corner of his mouth with a kiss.

Ollie did what he was told, taking a heavy breath in and slowly releasing it. My panic didn't stop even when his breathing had returned to a somewhat normal rhythm, because I could still feel how fast his heart was racing when I placed a palm on his clammy chest. His head dropped to my shoulder, still holding my wrists to keep me right here in the bed we'd been sharing for the last week.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, releasing his hold on me. My shaking hands fell back to my lap. "Just a nightmare. Go back to sleep."

How was I supposed to sleep after that? Ollie left the bed, taking the empty glass from the table beside us with him. I stayed kneeling, listening to the faucet turn on and off in the bathroom across the hall, while waiting for him to return to the bed. He never came back.

My phone was still laying beside the pillow, right beside the food safety textbook I'd been reading and trying to prepare for the first day back to class in the morning. I recalled the clock being midnight the last time I'd picked up the phone. That's when I dropped the book and gave into dozing while Ollie was snoring off and on beside me. Now, looking at the phone once more, I saw that was all of twenty minutes ago.

There was little hope that he'd return to the bed again tonight. Of the last ten plus days we'd been together, I'd woken in his arms only twice. This was the first time I'd stayed up this late while he was already sleeping. Now, as I laid here shivering from the cold apartment drafts and fighting to pull the covers back up, I wondered how many times he'd woken just like this without me realizing it.

I had a bad feeling it was around eight times.

>>

The absolute best part of Ollie's apartment was the bathroom. It was a first for me, loving a room with a toilet over one with several working appliances and a stocked refrigerator. Not the case here. After being shown pictures of the renovation process of the old attic for storage to a bachelor pad, this room was the most eye-catching.

Similar to the rest of the apartment, Ollie left the exterior walls of his bathroom an exposed brick—which amounted to two of the walls of his corner shower. And this shower was about the size of my entire bathroom back at Hallie's and my place. The other two walls of the shower were a very clear glass, which made it extra fun when walking in as a certain tattooed chef showered. The other walls were a cool gray, with the original wooden floors of the room still intact. The backsplash behind the vanity was the original brass stamped ceiling that once hung in the kitchen. They had to swap it out to keep up with code, but Ollie said he couldn't bring himself to toss it when it had history with his grandfather's building. He made all the accents fixtures and drawer pulls match—that included the feet of the clawfoot tub. Ollie told me to use it, saying it never got use, but I was too addicted to the shower to try it.

I enjoyed standing beneath the hot water in the morning, especially when the apartment was in a constant state of cold. Honestly, I figured that staying with Ollie would have me wearing fewer clothes, not more. I was living in his sweatshirts. Today, I stood beneath it, lost in thoughts of what had happened just a few short hours ago.

"Behave!" My finger lifted to the sound of the bathroom door opening. Ollie smiled wickedly, causing me to wish we had more time to not behave.

With hands held above his head to surrender, he laughed. "I just came in here for my toothbrush."

"Sure you did."

Picking up his toothbrush cockily, he dabbed it with toothpaste before shoving it into his mouth with a smile. My eyes rolled, and I turned the water off. Ollie already had a towel in his hand, offering it to me, with the other hand covering his eyes playfully while still biting the toothbrush. As if the clear glass hadn't shown him everything that he came in here to ogle.

"Can we talk?" I asked, pulling his hand away from his eyes.

He began circulating the toothbrush against his teeth. "Abou...?"

"Last night."

Him turning his back to spit toothpaste into the sink—not turning back around—told me he wasn't in the mood for that conversation. I had a feeling it would go this way. In fact, any time I brought up his sleeping habits, he didn't seem interested in clarifying. But the fact was, Ollie looked more tired now than he had since I'd known him. The circles beneath his eyes were so defined that they looked as if they were there to stay.

"What did you dream about?"

He spit into the sink again before tossing his toothbrush back into a cup beside the faucet. "I don't remember."

"Do you dream about it a lot?"

He left the room, and I had to wrap the towel around myself quickly to keep up. He was already dressed for the day in his normal school attire, a pair of black dress pants and a nice white polo. It would be covered with his jacket, once actually in class. He was taking me to school today, and likely was waiting for me to dress, which was why he was now stacking my textbooks for me. We'd picked them up a few days ago so that I could study for semester tests next week.

"Ollie?"

"Sloan, I don't know, because I don't remember." He shrugged, shoving the books into my backpack.

I understood not remembering the dream. But how could you not remember how often you have nightmares? Especially if they were occurring every night, like I was suspecting. Obviously, he had no plans of sharing, and somehow, I knew he wouldn't. It's not like I could stop him from having them, anyway. But I was now taking what little sleep he got, and it was showing.

"I'm going to have Hallie pick me up from work."

"Why?" he asked, now tossing a pair of clean jeans my way from the laundry basket.

"So that you sleep tonight."

Ollie's gaze lifted towards the ceiling, and he took a deep breath. "They have nothing to do with you."

"Thought you didn't remember them?" I bit my thumbnail, knowing I was pressing my luck.

Turning to me, his head shook no. No... he doesn't remember them? Or no... shut up, Sloan?

"You can't be bringing me to school every day, anyway. One day is fine, but we can't make a habit of that. And besides, Hallie comes home tonight too, and I miss her crazy ass. We have to talk about girl stuff."

"Such as?"

"I don't know. I haven't seen her in a while. We'll probably make sure our periods are still synched and then talk about the size of your dick."

His brows lifted while I giggled and dressed.

"And... what do you plan to say about it?"

I lifted my shirt above my head and allowed it to fall over my face. "Depends."

"On?" he asked.

"What do you dream about?"

"Ugh." He groaned, leaving the bedroom.

"Guess I'm telling her it's adequate!" I called after him before following.

Ollie stood with the door open. My backpack swung over his shoulder. "We both know I'm more than adequate."

I passed through the threshold. "We also both know that you're lying about not remembering those dreams."

It was the end of the cock discussion for Ollie. Adequate was suddenly acceptable to tell other people.

>>

It was business—school—as usual back at the Chicago Culinary Institute. I could barely get a word in when I finally found Ava, who had spent her entire Christmas vacation in Paris with her family. That was more than fine with me, who wasn't in the mood to confess anything about my Christmas vacation other than it was lovely. Ava had basically dined her way through the city of love, and that part may have made me a little jealous.

On the upside, I now had the knives required to pass Ollie's class, and they made a world of difference when mincing. I could have killed him when he placed a green pepper on my workstation with a toothpick-smirk. The mistake he made was complimenting me on a job well done, because not one person in class didn't notice that change of demeanor. Ollie was normally a dick to everyone in the class, but he had a special interest in being spiteful towards me. Him stopping this had Ava elbowing me and giving a thumbs up. Ollie's compliment had strings attached, and that needed to be nixed ASAP. If we were going to have a relationship outside of school, it needed to stay completely separate. I needed to be treated like everyone else so that other students or faculty wouldn't be throwing red flags in our direction.

By the time both school and a shift at Mulligan's were over, I was beyond tired. Being woken by Ollie having a nightmare didn't exactly help put me back to sleep. I was dying for one-on-one time with my bed and dreading it at the same time. Thankfully, Hallie was already at the bar when I escaped from the kitchen. I was barely around the bar when two outstretched arms took me into a hug.

"Ah!" Hallie rocked us back and forth ridiculously, catching the cocked eye of Mikah. "I missed you! Not that I mind getting cocktails, but tell me why you don't have your car tonight? How did you get to school and work?"

Mikah gave me a very knowing look that had me sticking my tongue out at him. I didn't know how long Hallie had been sitting here being entertained by the bartender, but Mikah had kept his mouth shut, thankfully. It wasn't normal for me to keep anything from Hallie, but this was something I needed to work out for myself. It's not like those Ollie feelings were a secret, anyway.

Mikah placed two fresh cocktails onto the bar top, and we took them to a booth in the restaurant's corner. It was a spot mostly secluded from the other booths and typically only used on really busy nights. The question was where to start...

>>

It took a lot to make Hallie Reynolds speechless. She sat with three empty cocktails in front of her, blinking like she had been for the last half hour. It was a lot of shock and smidge of worry that was written all over her face. I knew my friend well, and this was the exact expression I had expected.

"Are you..." Hallie paused, swirling the skewer of her drink to make the ice cubes shift. "Do you think you're in love with him?"

I rubbed at my aching neck with tears begging to be released. I knew the question was coming, but there really wasn't a simple answer for it. That L word was not coming from my lips anytime soon, even if my head used it on more than one occasion.

"What kind of person has feelings like this for someone when their husband just died?" I wiped at my eyes. "I'm a terrible person."

"Sloan, you're not." Hallie's hand landed on my wrist and squeezed.

"I don't feel it when I'm with him," I said.

"Feel what?"

"That ache that nags at me because of Steve. I don't feel it. Ollie just makes me laugh so hard that I forget it, and I don't want to forget either. But I also don't want to feel this void all the time where Steve is supposed to be. It hasn't been a year..."

"Stop giving yourself a timeline." Hallie's eyes rolled. "There are no rules that say when it's okay to stop mourning, honey. Is it fast? Yes. Does that matter? No. It's widow's guilt. Steve would want you happy..."

"Can we..." I dropped my face into my hands and took a deep breath. "Can we stop talking about Steve, please?"

This was the most hurt I'd felt in weeks. I was already crying and knew the moment I landed myself back in the bed I'd shared with Steve that the guilt was going to hit like a truck. I may have been tired, but I was in for a night of tears. I didn't want Ollie walking out of the kitchen and finding me like this.

"Yeah." Hallie shrugged with a frown, knowing exactly what kind of night we were in for. "We can stop. Want to talk about the chick by the bar who keeps looking over here like one of us fucked her boyfriend? Because she's freaking me out."

My attention gravitated towards the busy bar, spying exactly who Hallie was talking about.

"We are going to need more drinks for that conversation," I said, waving at Mikah for refills.

"Why?" Hallie asked, peering to the bar again.

"Because I'm the one that slept with her boyfriend," I groaned. "Ex-boyfriend."

"Thank god." Hallie picked an ice cube out of her empty glass and popped it into her mouth to chew. "It wasn't me this time."