I Love You More Than I'm Afraid (Our Forevers #2) Rebel Hart (good english books to read .txt) 📖

For a moment, I just froze. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. She was just with me. We were together and happy. How could she say something like that?

I flipped back towards the window, thinking I’d just climb out, but the window was boarded up now as well. Slamming my fists against the planks of wood did nothing to move them out of the way. All I could do was watch through a slit as Aria pulled Arden away from the treehouse.

“Arden!” I screamed, pounding on the wood. “Help me! I’m stuck in here! Arden!”

They couldn’t hear me at all. Hand-in-hand, they walked away from the treehouse, eventually linking up with Tristan at the top of the hill. He seemed to be just as under Aria’s spell as Arden was, and she took his hand and started to lead him off as well.

“No! Tristan! Help me! I’m scared! Get me out of here!” I was banging and screaming as loud as I could, but nothing was helping.

Eventually, Arden, Aria, and Tristan approached an airplane. It had the words ‘New York’ sprawled across the side in deep red, dripping letters, and Aria stood aside and motioned Tristan and Arden on. They boarded the plane, smiling and laughing, and the last thing I saw was Aria turn around and make direct eye contact with me.

An evil smile curled across her face and she said, “They’ll never love you like they love me. Just give it up.”

“No!” I yelled. “Please!”

Aria turned and climbed onto the airplane and it almost immediately lifted up into the sky and flew out of sight. I continued to scream until it felt like my voice should be going hoarse. Falling backwards against the wall of the treehouse, tipping the table and destroying my anniversary dinner, I clasped my hands on either side of my head and started to sob.

Then I woke up.

I shot straight up in bed, pain still constricting my chest. All it took was a little sniffle for me to feel that I’d been crying in my sleep, and that final image of Aria’s malicious grin was painted across my brain and nothing would send it away. My head was pounding and I felt like I was going to be sick.

Subconsciously, I reached for my phone.

“Hannah?”

I looked at it, confused, but then I saw that I was in a call with Tristan. In my anguish, I must have called him. I didn’t even realize it. “Tristan?”

“Hey,” he replied. “Are you okay? It’s like four in the morning.”

“No,” I admitted, simply unable to lie at that moment. “I’m not okay.”

“What’s wrong? Are you hurt? Do you need me to come and get you?”

The idea of being able to see Tristan sounded good to me, so I said, “Yeah. Can you come get me?”

“Where are you?”

“I’m at home,” I replied.

“I’m on my way.”

The line immediately went dead, and I finally started to get my bearings. I was in bed, in my house. No, I was not celebrating a three year anniversary with Arden—we actually had broken up. I wasn’t locked in a treehouse watching helplessly as some woman stole away the love of my life and my best friend.

At least not literally.

Double-checking my phone to make sure I hadn’t dreamed up speaking with Tristan, I saw in my call log that we’d had a short, minute-long conversation. I actually did call him, and he was on his way to get me, so I threw back my covers and got myself out of bed. My whole body felt fuzzy and weak, like I’d just run a marathon. That was the most vivid and excruciating nightmare I’d had in a long time. I’d experienced a number of Arden-focused dreams immediately after we broke up. Ones just like that, where we were still together and happy.

But they’d never taken that dark turn before.

Thinking backwards, I remembered that it was Sunday, so I ignored my backpack in the interest of pulling on some comfy clothes. I didn’t even bother to change out of my pajama pants and just threw a hoodie on over it, then slipped on some tennis shoes, grabbed my keys and purse, and quietly made my way downstairs.

Walking outside and being hit with the fresh spring air reminded me it wasn’t fall at all. It felt like my body was being thrust through time. How could a dream feel so real and painful? I sat down on the front stairs and combed my fingers through my hair. It was like I was a fraction of myself all of a sudden and I had no idea where to find the rest of me.

Eventually, Tristan pulled up and he actually jumped out of the driver’s seat and ran over to where I was sitting. “Hey,” he said, reaching down for me. “Are you okay?”

I took his hand and let him pull me to my feet, experiencing deja vu from when Arden had done it in my dream. “I had a nightmare,” I said. “Sorry, that was a stupid reason to call you all the way over here.”

“No.” He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me into a hug.

And I shattered.

All of the sensations I’d been trying to rope in and realign myself went sideways again and I just started to cry. Everything that I’d been trying to convince myself didn’t hurt for the last three years crashed down on top of me like a ton of bricks and with Tristan’s arms around me, I just let it all go for the first time ever.

I was in so much pain I couldn’t think straight.

Tristan didn’t rush me, just held me there and caressed my back gently until I was finally able to calm myself down enough to speak.

“Can we go somewhere other than here?” I asked between sobs.

“Yeah. Come on.” He helped me over to his car and opened the passenger’s door for me, helping me into the car