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Her mouth twitches. “Understand what?”

My jaw sets. “She’s had three nightmares in the last two weeks where she's cried out your name in her sleep.”

The kitchen goes very still and quiet.

“Again,” I murmur, “I’m not trying to pry⁠—”

“You should talk to your wife about her nightmares, Dame,” she mutters, her eyes dropping to her mug. “Not me.”

“Arianna.”

It's almost like she has to force herself to look back up at me.

“I know you’re friends. You talk, you hang out. But you do it secretly. She’s never there when you’re with your usual crew.”

Arianna’s face darkens. “Are you spying on⁠—”

“I’m worried about her, Arianna,” I growl, my chest tightening.

She chews on her lip, her gaze returning to her coffee.

“I did some digging. I know you two were close when you were kids.”

Her eyes snap to mine, her brow furrowed. “Dame⁠—”

“I’m sorry. Again, I only did it because I’m worried about her.”

She drags her teeth back and forth across her lower lip, deciding if this conversation is over or not.

“What did you find when you dug?” she finally murmurs.

“That you two were friends and went to the same school until you were eleven. But after that, suddenly and pretty much at the same time, Bella spent the next year attending a private school for kids with severe emotional trauma. You were home schooled for the next two years. And after that, you wound up at different middle and high schools.”

Her brow knits even more. “Dame⁠—”

“I’m not trying to stir shit up,” I say gently. “But I am worried about my wife.”

The last two words come out a bit sharper than I intended.

“I think we both know Bella is strong and self-determined, and perfectly capable of taking care of herself,” I add, more softly. “But I’ve got enough of my own shit buried inside me that I know when someone’s masking.” My lips twist. “Ari, if she screams your name while she’s having nightmares⁠—”

“Dame, please⁠—”

“I just want to help her,” I growl.

She exhales slowly, nodding her head.

“Bella and I…” Her throat works as she looks down into her coffee. “When we were younger, there was…” She pauses. “A bad period. We went through a thing together, okay? And when we came out the other side…” She shakes her head. “Bella and I are still friends, and always will be. But at least for her, that friendship comes with ties to a time that we’d both rather forget. I think it’s hard for her to be my friend these days because I remind her of what happened.”

Her eyes flick to mine, darting over my face. Fear sparks in her eyes.

“Um, Dame…?” she whispers.

Fuck.

I’ve been literally caging her against the kitchen counter, my fists planted firmly to either side of her.

“Sorry,” I say, quickly pulling back from her. “I just…”