From This Day Forward. Irene Hannon

and he realized that his T-shirt was drenched with sweat.

      “Headache?” Cara’s question came out in an unsteady whisper and her features softened in compassion.

      “Yeah. Aspirin will take care of it. Look, I’m sorry about this. It hasn’t happened in weeks. This won’t be a habit.” Even as he made the promise, he hoped it was one he could keep.

      As if sensing his thoughts, she spoke, her tone subdued. “Nightmares aren’t easy to control.”

      Sam knew from Liz that Cara was speaking from personal experience. And he’d been prepared to comfort her if necessary, as she had once comforted him. Instead, he’d been the one plagued by bad dreams while she slept soundly.

      The irony wasn’t lost on him.

      “I’ll do my best,” he responded.

      Half-turning, she hesitated and looked over her shoulder. “Do you want me to get the aspirin for you?”

      The trepidation in her eyes, the uncertainty, reminded him of the countless occasions when he’d snarled out an ungrateful response to such an offer. And filled him with gratitude that she’d been willing to risk reaching out once again.

      Gentling his voice, he did his best to summon up a smile. “Thank you, but I can manage. You need your sleep. I’ll be okay by morning. Good night.”

      Without waiting for a reply, he headed for the bathroom. Once there, he steadied himself on the edge of the sink, filled a glass with water and downed several aspirin in one gulp. Sitting on the edge of the tub, he drew steadying breaths until he felt able to make the trip back to his room.

      When he stepped into the hall, the corridor was deserted. Yet glancing toward Cara’s room, he noted that the door was cracked a fraction of an inch. Had she forgotten to close it? Or had she left it that way on purpose, so she could hear if Sam had any further problems?

      Sam assumed it was the former. She was tired, and it was the middle of the night, after all. No one thought clearly at this hour.

      But for tonight, anyway, he was going to pretend it was the latter. Because if he allowed himself to believe she cared, he suspected that fantasy would do more than anything else to keep further nightmares at bay.