Dream On by Angie Hockman
For my two loves, Cooper and Jimmy. And for Mom, whose lifelong love and support has given me courage to try.
PROLOGUE
“Care for breakfast?” Devin’s deep voice caresses my body, rumbling through the dark like the intoxicating purr of an engine.
I blink open my eyes and stretch my arms above my head until my knuckles brush the smooth headboard. Devin’s smiling at me from beside the bed, dressed in the same fitted jeans and navy polo from last night. Soft morning light creeps through the hotel room’s translucent curtains, casting his normally coal-brown hair in a mahogany glow.
“Are you referring to food or yourself?” I say. Curling onto my side to face him, I pull the crisp white sheet up to my chest.
The mattress dips as he sits next to me, dark eyes twinkling. “Take your pick.” Brushing a lock of hair from my face, he presses his lips against mine in a lingering kiss. My chest expands, filling with joy until I’m sure it will crack.
After years of putting love on the back burner to focus on school and career, I can’t believe I’ve finally found someone. We’ve only been together a few months—three, I think—but this is the real deal. I can sense our soul-deep connection in my marrow. I have that overwhelming you-complete-me feeling I’d only hoped I’d find with someone someday. And guess what? He feels the same way about me.
How in the world did I get so lucky?
Devin graces me with a heart-melting smile. “I brought your favorite.” He reaches behind him, and from out of nowhere proffers a piece of strawberry-covered cheesecake on a gleaming white plate.
I grin as he hands it to me. “Dessert for breakfast? How decadent.” I take a bite, and immediately wrinkle my nose. The taste is off. Rather than creamy, tart deliciousness, something stale and plasticky fills my mouth. I take another bite, just to be sure, and somehow manage to shove the fork down my throat. Pain sears my esophagus and the urge to gag overwhelms me. A burst of dazzling light fills the room, blurring Devin’s edges like watercolors.
My heart beats faster. Something’s not right.
Gripping the sheet, I tug it to my chin as I shrink against the pillows. Above me, the ceiling recedes into an endlessly blue sky. And it’s filled with flying kittens. Tiny, feathered wings flap as they dip here and there, playing oversized violins like furry, fluffy cherubs. One of them, a tabby with green-golden eyes, winks at me as he draws his bow across the strings, causing a shower of effervescent sparks to rain down on Devin and me.
Welp… guess I’m dreaming. At least Devin’s in my dream too, which means it’s a Very Good Dream.
I realize now that my body feels like it’s floating in the ocean; I’m in that twilight space between awake and asleep—aware that this is a dream, but still not quite conscious. This hotel room, the cheesecake: they’re from the weekend trip to the lake that Devin surprised me with last month. Maybe if I don’t think too hard about waking up, I’ll stay asleep. Maybe I can make the dream change… call up another favorite memory…
A thick blanket of clouds passes overhead, but the sky is as bright as ever and I squint. A pair of strong arms snakes beneath me, lifting me against a firm, familiar chest. Devin…
“Cassidy…” A faint voice echoes from far away, no louder than a reverberation from a church bell. It’s easy to ignore, so I do.
The dream shifts. I’m no longer lying in bed, but standing in the center of a dimly lit restaurant, clothed in a knee-length burgundy silk dress. Devin’s wearing a white button-down with a red scarf, and we’re dancing—just like on our first date. Soft music curls around us. I’m vaguely aware that people are staring, but I don’t care. I cling to Devin so tightly my body melds with his and our souls tangle together. We’re complete.
“Cass, come back to us,” a distant voice echoes, louder this time.
“Time to go.” Devin’s deep voice rumbles in his chest.
I sigh into his neck and grasp him tighter. “I want to stay here with you.”
Gently disentangling himself from me, he steps back until he’s an arm’s length away. I smooth my dress over my stomach. Rather than lush, soft fabric, my gown is oddly thin and scratchy. I frown. A truck beeps somewhere in the distance, a steady, rhythmic sound. Devin takes my hand, but his palm is no longer rough. It’s small and smooth, and long nails prick my skin.
“Cass…” he whispers, his form blurring.
“Cass… can… hear me?” says a higher-pitched voice.