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We move into the house, and Archer secures the door before going to the bedroom. He sits on the bed, holding me tight. My heart aches, but the safety of his arms helps ease the pain.

“Baby,” he rasps, stroking my hair.

“I’m good,” I mumble.

“You don’t have to be.”

“I have my moments when I’m not.”

“We all do,” he says roughly.

“I hate them.” I sniffle and lift my head.

“Most of us think of them as a weakness.” He brushes his thumbs over my cheeks. “I’m guilty of it.”

“I know they aren’t,” I sigh.

“You don’t have to hide anything from me. I won’t judge you.”

I nod, pressing my hands against his chest. “Why haven’t you asked about the scars?” I ask, rotating my hands to stare at my arms. I know he felt them.

“I didn’t want to push. You would tell me when you were ready.” He covers my hand with his.

“I didn’t try to kill myself,” I say quickly, and he waits calmly. “It was difficult to find ways to get me out of the dream world. I discovered pain helped.”

“How old?”

“Young. Nine, ten.” I rub my finger over the worst ones. “I tied the knife to my arm before I went to sleep. I figured since I'm aware and can remember what happens while I’m dream-walking, I could move my arms so the blade would rub against my skin. It did work, but there were some close calls.” I look at him. “I hate thinking about it, but at the same time, I'm proud of what I did to survive. I wanted to live. Magic was a blessing, and I needed to find a way to do it right so I didn’t have to resort to extreme measures. I stopped using that method pretty quickly. Granny was horrified when she found out. She did some spells to minimize the scars,” I rasp, and he rubs his finger over them. “I’m glad they couldn’t be healed completely.”

“Why?” he asks softly.

“They remind me that life is worth living. I did everything I could to learn my magic and guide it. Yes, it was rough in the early years. I wish I had parents who would support and love me. My experiences with them hurt me in many ways, yet I wouldn’t change anything.” I smile, and he tilts his head. “I know, it’s odd. But who would I be if my life had been different? The lessons I learned are valuable. I don’t trust as easily, yet now people surprise me.”

He bows his head, staring at our hands. “I was never grateful for the years of loneliness and pain in my life. Your perspective causes me to think of it differently.”

“I’m grateful for the man you are,” I say, releasing him and nudging his jaw. I encourage him to meet my gaze. “I wouldn’t want anything to change.”

“Shit, I’m supposed to be comforting you,” he says gruffly, and turns his head to kiss my palm. “You need some sleep.”

“Maybe I should call Granny. She needs to know.” I slide my hands to his shoulders and roll my lips. Waiting until the morning seemed like the best plan, but I don’t want to upset her by waiting longer than she already will be.

“You won’t be able to sleep unless you try,” he says.

I nod and look at the blankets, remembering I dropped my phone on the bed. Archer moves away when I find it, and goes to the bathroom. Taking a deep breath, I scroll to Granny’s number, sit on my ass, and call her. My heart thuds as I listen to it ring. It goes to voicemail, and I hang up and stare at the screen. I realize that she didn’t tell me where she was staying. Rolling to the side of the bed, I put my phone on the nightstand and wait to see if she calls back.

Archer returns, and I look at him.

“No answer.”

“We have a few hours until morning. We can track her down then.” He rounds the bed and lies down.

“Yeah,” I sigh, and swing my legs onto the mattress.

“Can you block any dreams?”

“I try to. Usually, I can get out quickly if they're disturbing.”

He holds his arm to the side. “Come here.”