In their dreams, Tasha and Aidan were free from the torment of poison running through their veins.
“You know this isn’t real,” Aidan, forever sensible, noted as they stared at a moonlit beach next to an inkdrop blue ocean.
“Of course, but I don’t care. Do you think we could have worked things out?”
He nodded. Willing the slumping sensation to stay far from his chest was futile.
She gave him a small smile as consolation. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and they realized that they were finally warm down to their bare toes that lingered in the sand.
“Don’t be sad here. Please.”
“I’ll try. And my answer is yes.”
They didn’t hear the pounding at the door of the house in the woods. If they had, it might have alarmed them. But they slept on.