When I was young, I suffered from night terrors. They'd jolt me awake at any hour, a scream caught in my throat and my sheets damp with sweat. I could never remember any details, but the fear they left behind was almost suffocating. Most nights, I tried to work through them myself; some nights, that meant waking up Carter so he could help me go back to sleep.

But before he moved in next door, on those nights when distractions weren't enough, I needed my parents. The hallway to their room always seemed longer in the dark. Each step felt like I was crossing miles as I tiptoed across the carpet to their door. It would loom over me, daring me to grab the knob. Daring me to open it.

Daring me to wake up my mother.

I'd stand there, wheezing as quietly as possible. Raise my hand, then drop it at my sides. Raise it again. Turn to go to my room. Turn back again. Stare at the door. I'd go through the ritual every time, all the while asking myself if it was worth waking her up. If the dream was scarier than her.

I have a similar feeling staring at Carter's door now, my hand resting gently on the knob. I spent hours willing myself to fall asleep, but the pull of the bedside clock won every time. I couldn't stop counting every little tick, flinching after each one. Dreading the sound of a bell shortly after.

The fear of waking up in the wrong place was too strong in the end. After what happened in Darren's office, I feel like I can't sit still. Our conversation has my mind reeling as it tries to understand why he'd lie about talking to Mark that week.

And then, the dream. If I can even call it that. That moment when two different realities seemed to warp together scares me the most because I had no control over it. The idea of it happening again, only permanently in the past, was the last push I needed to get out of bed and walk across the hall to Carter's room.

Only to freeze just outside it. I didn't see him all day after I came home from Darren's. He stayed away all afternoon and didn't show up until way past dinner. Carter didn't say anything to anyone, minus a kiss for Brynn before bed, then shut himself away in his room for the rest of the night. It wasn't exactly a secret why he was upset, and I could feel Julia and Henry's eyes on me up until I shuffled off to bed myself.

I know I have to apologize. I don't think I've regretted anything more than what I said about our marriage. But the truth is, I'm scared to have the conversation. I'm nervous about what happens if he forgives me. I'm terrified of what happens if he doesn't.

Carter's door dares me to twist the knob. To open it. To wake him up.

When I was young, I'd let my hand fall to my side and go back to my room. The dreams were never worth it.

Tonight, I open the door. This dream is worth it, and so is he.

He forgot to shut his blinds before falling asleep. What would normally be a pitch black room is bathed in moonlight, casting wild shadows along the walls. The layout is basically the same as when we were kids, which happens to be the last time I was in here. There are a few less posters, and his old collection of action figures is mysteriously missing from his overhead shelves, but the room is still distinctly Carter.

I hover in the doorway, watching the way his back rises and falls with each breath. With his bed facing the door, I can clearly see he's shirtless, the light from outside hugging every curve of his muscles. His hair is a tousled mess against his pillow, suggesting his own issues with falling asleep. I try not to think about how that's probably my fault.

Instead, I drink in every detail like I'm seeing him for the first time. Everything has moved so fast in the last week that I haven't had much time to really look at him. At this moment, I wish I had all the time in the world.

My face flushes as I recall my intentions for coming in here. The idea of sneaking into Carter's room had been abstract when I thought of it, but standing here now, its deeper meaning sinks in. I'm going to share a bed, with a shirtless Carter... wearing his mother's hand-me down pajamas.

"There's a draft."

My heart jumps up to my throat before I register it's Carter. He's lying on his side so I can't see his face. His eyes could've been open the whole time I've been standing here.

"What?"

"It's warmer in here than in the hall," he explains, his back still to me. "In case you were going for discretion."

Understanding hits me, followed by a wave of embarrassment from getting caught staring. I close the door and cut off the offending draft before reluctantly turning to face him. I'm not sure what my original plan was — sneaking into his bed unannounced, I suppose — but now that he's awake, I find myself hovering awkwardly.

"Bad dream?" he asks. His tone is light, unlike someone who's still mad. A good sign.

"Have to sleep to dream," I answer, attempting at a joke.

Silence.

He's going to make me ask, I groan internally. The thought of asking Carter for anything usually makes my skin crawl, but upon further reflection, I guess I deserve a little humiliation.

Just as I'm about to break, he reaches behind himself and pulls the covers back. Hesitating for a beat, I scuttle across the room and slide into bed. Don't want to give him time to change his mind.

His bed is significantly smaller than I remember it. As I settle in against the mattress, my body grazes his, burning trails of fire through my thin pajamas. I keep my eyes trained on the ceiling to avoid any temptation, but I'm already overwhelmed just by the smell of him: a mixture of soap and pine from his two-in-one shampoo.

It's at this moment I realize I've made a terrible mistake. There's no way I'm getting any sleep now.

"I called Tanner today," Carter says, the bass in his voice vibrating through the mattress.

"Tanner from school?" He's the only Tanner I know, but with my luck, we've met four more over the last decade.

"Yeah, he's still in town. Ended up spending most of the day with him, actually."

Not many people leave Susquehanna, and those who do usually come back, so to hear Tanner stuck around after graduation isn't out of the ordinary. It's the same reason I never questioned if Darren still lived in the same house. Kinda nice to know some things haven't changed.

I'm also kinda confused where this conversation is going. I wait to see if he'll add anything else, but he stays quiet.

"Well that's... nice."

"He's on the force now. Lieutenant." Carter still hasn't turned over, so I have to strain to hear him over his shoulder. "I thought he might know how to find Ronnie."

My head snaps to the side, temptation be damned. "Ronnie? But you said it was impossible to track Mark's family down."

"Back then, it was. We were just kids, and the only ones who gave a damn for that matter. We didn't have the resources or the time to put all our energy into finding them. Google could only get us so far."

His use of the word "we" doesn't go unnoticed. I can picture Chloe and I hunched over our laptops, searching vigorously for any information on the Anderson kids, but imagining Carter there with us doesn't feel realistic.

"But things are different now. Technology is more advanced, and Tanner has connections and access to files we didn't have before. It's a shot in the dark, but it might still be worth it to try. I figure if anyone saw Mark that day, it would be them."

I'm speechless. He's still trying to help me, even after the shitty way I treated him this morning. Carter made it clear how he feels about this whole plan, especially the part he plays in it, but he's putting his personal feelings aside. For me.

Voices scream in my head to ask him more questions, or to jump out of bed and call Tanner myself. This is the only solid plan we have so far, and my fears from earlier threaten to make a reappearance.

But there's something I have to say first.

"I'm sorry, Carter."

It's subtle, but I feel his body go rigid. I don't let it stop me.

"You've been so supportive through all of this, and I threw it in your face like it meant nothing. I promise, I wasn't trying to hurt you. That's the last thing I ever want to do. It's just—" I break off, working through my thoughts to be sure they come out right. "I don't know what's real, Carter. I'm relying on instinct alone here. Signs are being thrown at me and I can't decipher what anything means. It's like, every time I think I've regained my footing, the world tilts again and I'm back to free falling."

A thousand pounds lifts off my shoulders. It's the first time I've vocalized everything I'm feeling, and it's such a relief that I don't want to stop.

"I'm afraid if I make one wrong move, this will all go up in smoke. I can't sleep because I'm terrified I'll go back too soon and fuck this up, and I don't think I'd survive losing him. Not after I've been given this second chance to save his life."

I let my head fall to the side again when he sighs heavily. He expects me to stop there, but I'm done with half truths. I can't lie anymore, to myself or him. At this point, my body can't bear the weight.

"But I know I wouldn't survive losing you again. Not after all this."

Carter doesn't move right away, as if he's afraid I'll take it back if he does. Our shoulders brush when he finally flips onto his back. As he tries to get comfortable, his foot nudges against mine, sending shocks of electricity shooting up my legs.

"The morning after Mark died, no one could find you."

It's my turn to go rigid. No matter how many times I hear them together, the words "Mark" and "died" send a stab of pain through my core.

"I spent all night at the police station giving my statement and didn't get home until the sun was almost up. The minute I walked through the door, I knew. My parents. Yours. Ben. Even Chloe. They were all waiting in the living room, praying you were with me... and you weren't."

I listen as he lays out the memory for me, one I'm not meant to remember. It's somewhat comforting to hear about the past without any expectations attached. I just wish it wasn't this particular memory.

"I don't think I knew what true fear was until that moment. I had no clue what you were capable of doing. A thousand scenarios raced through my head, each one worse than the last. If Chloe hadn't suggested where to check, I probably would've wrapped the truck around a tree trying to find you."

"The log," I interrupt. "That's where I was, isn't it."

"Right where she said you would be. Just sitting on that old log, not really looking at anything. It was like you were empty."

Retelling the story upsets him; I can tell by the way his fingers fidget not even an inch away from mine. It would be so easy to reach over and take his hand. I imagine what it would feel like to run my fingertips over his knuckles, tracing words of comfort against his skin. Just to let him know I'm here.

But I'm still a pussy, so I keep my hands to myself.

"The minute you saw me, you fell apart. I'll never forget the look in your eyes when everything hit. Or the way you cried in my arms. We sat there until dark, with you drifting in and out, and all I could do was hold you and be strong for both of us. I promised myself that day I'd never let you feel that type of pain ever again."

But I did feel it again, and about the same tragic night. Carter's reasons for keeping Mark's death from me feel even more justified now. He said they almost lost me over this, but it hits different knowing the gruesome details.

"I don't understand," I whisper. It seems like a morbid story to share after I've just voiced my various fears. "Why are you telling me this?"

He doesn't answer me verbally. Instead, he crosses the distance between our fingers and does what I didn't have the balls to. His hand feels perfect as it slips into mine, our fingers interlocking instantly. It feels like we've been doing it our whole lives. When we were young, we assumed we would be.

"Because even if you make that wrong move and this all goes up in smoke," he finally looks away from the ceiling and straight into my eyes, "You won't lose me. I'll still find you on that log. I'll still hold you until you fall asleep. I'll be there, right by your side, just like I've been ever since that night. Of all the things that scare you right now, losing me shouldn't be one of them. It's never gonna happen. Not now or then."

My heart stops as he uses his free hand to cup my cheek. I'm stunned by the look in his eyes: a mixture of pain, forgiveness, and love all swirled into two pools of hazel. He shifts his body to where he's leaning over me, and I'm met with his bare chest up close and personal. I let my gaze wander down his body, no longer worried about getting caught. I'm both relieved and disappointed to find the waistband of his boxers poking out from beneath the sheets.

"This is real, Amber," Carter says, lifting my chin until our mouths are only a breath apart. "You and me. We always have been, and we always will be."

I take a final breath.

And then I grow a pair.

Tilting my head, I capture his mouth with mine. He doesn't hesitate for a second, moving his hand to the nape of my neck to pull me closer. The kiss is slow and sensual, both of us taking our time to feel every sensation. I try to express what I can't put into words through the trail of kisses I leave against his lips. I write a thousand apologies in the hopes he can feel them; based on his enthusiasm, I assume I'm forgiven.

It doesn't take long for things to escalate. Carter deepens the kiss, running his tongue along my lower lip before sucking on it gently. I arch up to meet his body, hooking my leg around his hip to secure him in place. We meld together so perfectly, it's hard to tell where I stop and he begins. He grinds against me, the thin fabric of our clothes the only barrier between us, and it takes everything in me not to cry out in ecstasy. Even though we're married adults, I'm not keen on the idea of his parents hearing our reconciliation.

Carter drags his mouth across my jaw before dropping down to my throat. He alternates between kisses and nips, sending waves of pleasure through my body. The stubble around his chin scrapes the sensitive area, but I never want him to stop. I throw my head back to give him better access, running my hands up and down the length of his back in encouragement. My fingers tangle in the soft waves at the base of his neck, and I tug on the strands until he moans against my skin.

It's better than anything I've ever felt. Carter knows every spot, every touch, every move to drive me crazy. It's clear he's spent years memorizing the curves of my body. As he brings me closer and closer to unravelling, the rest of the world falls away. No Darren Wexler lying to my face. No dreams that threaten to rip me through time.

No Mark to interrupt us — not like last time.

"What did you say to her?"

I try to focus on Carter's fingers sliding their way up my shirt, but it's no use.

"Out of her life, just like you always wanted."

Details of the scene at the log creep their way in. At the time, I didn't understand the meaning behind what they were saying. Mark and I were so busy with our own argument, I never asked what made them fight in the first place. But now, it's all becoming clear. Their fight wasn't about my hook up with Carter, not at its core. It was about the falling out — the secret he still hasn't told me.

"Carter," I gasp, but it's no longer from pleasure.

When he pulls back, his eyes are coated in lust. He tucks a few loose curls back into my sleeping bonnet before resting his forehead against mine.

"I love you, Amber," he whispers. "More than all the stars."

"I—" God, it would be so easy to say it back and let him send my body into the stratosphere. But as long as Carter's still hiding things, he'll never have all of me... and I'll never have all of him.

"I'm sorry," I say just as our lips brush. "I can't."

I brace myself for the wall to come down again. I dread the cold of the hallway when he ultimately kicks me out of his room. When he lets out a sigh, I close my eyes and wait for the inevitable.

Carter rolls off of me. A lump clogs my throat as I readjust my pajamas, prepping myself to leave. But seconds later, he works an arm around my back and cradles me against his chest. My head comes to rest just above his heart, his pulse beating faintly against my ear.

"It's ok." Carter leans down and kisses me softly. "We'll get there."

He tucks me under his chin before falling silent. It isn't long before his breathing slows, then he's snoring softly against my hair. I'm flooded with a feeling of security I haven't felt in years. Not since our nights through the windows. With his arms around me, I close my eyes and let the sounds of Carter lull me to sleep.

"That's it?"

"What?"

"You just slept?" Chloe alternates between watching the road and shooting me a look of disbelief. "You tell the guy your marriage is a sham and don't even put out afterwards?"

I reach across the car and smack her smartly on the arm. "What do you take me for, some common whore?"

"He's your husband. You can't be his whore if you're married. Well, not without a costume, anyway." She holds up a hand when I reel back to hit her again. "Ok, ok, I yield. All I'm saying is, from what you've told me, make up sex is kinda his forte."

I roll my eyes and stare pointedly out the window. "Glad to know Carter and I still fight like we used to."

"More like you instigate fights for the sole purpose of getting make up sex," Chloe corrects. I catch her wiggling her eyebrows in the reflection of my side mirror.

I choose not to answer. I tell myself it's because she doesn't deserve a response. In reality, I'm starting to question if I ended our night too prematurely.

But even without make up sex, I know Carter and I are okay; the kiss I woke up to was a pretty good indicator. When he slipped out of bed, he let me know he'd be busy most of the day making calls he's been pushing off at work. Apparently, a time traveling wife isn't an excuse to drop all other responsibilities. Who knew.

With Carter busy, spending the day with Chloe seemed like a good idea, but the smug look on her face is giving me second thoughts. The idea of tucking and rolling out the car flashes through my mind; as if reading it, Chloe locks the doors when we pull up to a red light.

"So why did you pump the brakes last night?" she asks. "You can't still be questioning his intentions."

"It's not that. There are things he still isn't telling me, and I shouldn't have to ask for him to be honest. Until he tells me on his own, I can't be with him. At least, not like that."

"What is he, the Keeper of Secrets? What else could there possibly be?"

I pull my gaze back to her. "The falling out."

It's all I need to say. Chloe's face floods with understanding.

"Oh jeez, that fucker?" She grimaces as she hops off the freeway and takes the exit for her neighborhood. "Just hearing that phrase gives me war flashbacks. Good luck getting that out of him again. Greater minds have tried and failed, yours truly included."

"What?" This is the first I'm hearing of this. "You tried to figure out what happened between them?"

"For a majority of middle school, yeah. Call it my own special project, if you will. By time freshman year rolled around though, it was clear I was getting nowhere."

"And I didn't tell you once I found out?"

"Nope, and you should be grateful you can't remember our fight over it. I won't lie, things got ugly, but for the most part I've let it go. I still try to break you every now and again, usually after you've had a third glass of wine."

"I don't understand." Throwing my hands up in frustration, I sit back against the seat. "Why does he have to make everything so hush hush? Now that you two are best buds or whatever, maybe teach him a lesson or two on telling the truth. I'm starting to think you're the only person who's never lied to me."

Chloe hesitates for a full beat. "Well..."

I spin so fast, the safety belt locks up and snaps me back against the headrest. "What the fu-"

"Don't get mad, don't get mad," Chloe says, hurriedly. She knows when I lunge the next time, I'll be sure to unbuckle. "It was just a teenie, tiny secret, and I only kept it from you for like, a week senior year."

My mind reels as I try to make sense of what she's throwing at me. "How teenie tiny are we talking here?"

Chloe drums her fingers against the steering wheel as she pulls into her driveway. She doesn't meet my eye and instead keeps hers on the house. I grow more anxious the longer she's quiet — until I notice her mouth quirking up in the corners.

"I cheated on Jane."

It's like a cup of water spilling on a hard drive, leaving my brain sputtering. It doesn't make any sense; Jane and her were the only girls out at our school, hell, maybe in all of Susquehanna. I come to the only conclusion I can think of.

"You slept with a man?"

Chloe snorts. "I'm gonna go ahead and pretend you didn't just say that."

"Then I don't understand." I flop back against my seat. "Did she live in a different—"

The question dies on my tongue when I spot her. She's leaning against their front door, her dark skin striking against the light wood. Her arms are crossed, her signature stance when she flirts with Carter between classes. The only thing missing is her cheerleading uniform.

"Tori?"