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FIVE A.M. FLASHED ON THE ALARM clock and Garrett shot from his pillow, waking Isla. She turned to him, surprised to see him breathing quickly as if he’d just run a marathon.

He gasped for breath and Isla sat up, alarmed.

“Garrett?” she asked, reaching for him in the dark. The pale moonlight spilled into his room from the open window, letting in a soft breeze along with it.

Garrett didn’t look at her. It was as if he didn’t even hear her as he rubbed his face, looking forward as if he saw something before him.

Frightened, Isla looked ahead, following his gaze. She saw nothing but the empty bathroom and his dresser against the wall beside the bathroom door.

Goosebumps knitted the flesh on her arms.

“Baby?”

His face was flushed, tears in his eyes, sweat beaded on his forehead and chest.

It broke her heart. She’d never seen him that way. He’d only shed a tear once, and that was when they said goodbye when he left for the army.

What did the war do to her sweet artist—the young man who wrote her poems and painted pictures of her? Out of all of the nights she’d stayed with him in his room, he’d never woke up like that.

She scooted closer to his side of the bed and sat in his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck.

Garrett flinched and wrenched from her hold on him. Without looking into her eyes, he lifted her from his lap and set her on the bed.

Stunned, Isla coiled back. “Garrett? What’s wrong?”

Rejection slammed into her as Garrett stood from the bed and went into the bathroom, closing the door without a word.

Alone, Isla sat up in his bed. Her brows furrowed at what had just happened. She leaned over the bed and searched for her clothes as the sound of a shower came from the bathroom.

What was that? She’d never seen Garrett look like that. There was terror in his eyes.

Pain.

She put on her clothes and walked over to the bathroom door. She stood there for a moment, unsure of what to do. She sucked in a breath and knocked, trying to listen for a reply.

“Garrett?” she called softly. Her heart started to pound in her chest. She didn’t like this feeling. This uncertainty. “Are you okay, baby? Do you need anything?”

When he didn’t reply, she stepped away, unsure of what to do.

She considered leaving, suddenly feeling unwelcome. It’s what she would have done if it was anyone else. But no. This was Garrett, her soulmate. There was no way she was leaving him now.

Instead, Isla left his room and went to the kitchen to make some coffee. It was five a.m., the time when she’d normally go for a run. She never broke from her schedule, but this was a special circumstance.

Isla pulled out the coffee maker from the bottom cabinet and put in a few scoops of instant coffee for the both of them. She chewed her nails as she fretted about Garrett.

She wished she’d gotten a shower. She was still in her running clothes from the day before and probably smelled of steamy sex.

They’d made love late into the night, over and over again. Her inner thighs were sore, but it was worth it. She’d have another marathon lovemaking session with him again right then if he wanted it.

Half an hour passed before Garrett emerged from his room. He wore a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt, his hair still wet and curling above his brows.

She sat at the island, eating a scoop of peanut butter on a spoon. She nodded to his cup of coffee, trying to seem cheerful.

“I made you some coffee. It’s black and might be a little cool,” she said, noticing how he could barely look at her. “I can make you some more if you’d like.”

“No,” he said. “That’s fine.” He picked up the coffee mug and drank from it before pacing the kitchen.

She licked the spoon, watching him, not sure what to say.

“Thank you,” he said.

She exhaled, her eyes closing when he walked over to her. He kissed her on the forehead and sat in the wooden chair beside her.

“Sure. You’re welcome.” She didn’t like the tension in the room but wasn’t comfortable asking him about what happened.

Clark never had nightmares. He snored into the night like a bulldozer but never woke up in a fright.

“I’m sorry about this morning, Isla. I shouldn’t have reacted that way,” he said, rubbing his chin, a hint of reddish stubble on his face. “I have nightmares sometimes.”

“About what?”

He lowered his voice. “Terrible things I’ve done and seen.”

Isla put her hand over his. “I know,” she said. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

“I will. I promise.”

Isla mustered a smile and stood, her feet landing on the cool linoleum floor. She didn’t want to dwell on it. She’d give him time. All that he needed.

“Great. I need to shower and get some clothes. Let’s go back to Robin’s, and grab some stuff from the store.” She motioned to his fridge. “You need bread, milk, and...everything basically,” she said with a laugh.

Garrett stood and pulled her to him by the waist. “I don’t deserve you.”

She pressed her finger to his mouth. “Shh. Don’t say that. We deserve each other.” She kissed him and he hugged her close. “I didn’t get you back for you to doubt us.”

“I never said that I doubted us, babe. Trust me. I’m not going to ruin what we have, no matter how hard my demons try to bring me down.”

Isla looked up at him. “Good. Now you have me. I’ll help you fight those demons the way you helped me fight mine.”

He smiled at her. “You’re incredible.”

Isla pulled him along to the front door. “I know,” she said with a wink.