Chapter 43

I froze and listened to the night. For a minute, there was nothing. Then the screaming started again.

“No! No!”

My heart pounding, I cautiously reached under my bed. I grasped for the bat that I started keeping near me since the incident with Tom. Its hard, grainy surface gave me a sense of security and confidence as I gripped it tightly.

Bat in hand, I slipped out of bed and snuck out of my room. As I approached the end of the hall, I peeked around the corner.

Nothing appeared out of order. The door was still locked and closed, the TV was off and stayed mounted on the wall, and all the furniture still stood in place. Even Arthur remained on the couch, fast asleep.

I was about to search the kitchen when the screaming started again from the living room.

“No! Please, no!”

I turned around to see Arthur thrashing against some invisible foe. His arms flailed; his legs kicked. His face scrunched, tears staining his cheeks.

My heart ached for whatever plight he was undergoing in his sleep. For a moment, I debated whether I should wake him, considering how violent he was being. However, I couldn’t leave him in that state, not if I could help him.

I leaned forward and gently shook Arthur’s shoulder.

“Arthur…Arthur, wake up,” I said soothingly, my maternal instincts kicking in.

I narrowly missed being hit by one of Arthur’s arms, but I continued to shake him.

“It’s okay, Arthur. You’re safe. Just wake up.”

Slowly, Arthur’s limbs lowered back to the couch and stopped moving. His face relaxed, and his eyes fluttered open.

“Anna?” he asked. “What’s going on? Is everything okay?”

“I was going to ask you the same thing,” I said. “I heard screaming, and when I came out, your limbs were flailing everywhere, and you were crying.”

Arthur blushed. His eyes cast downward.

“Oh. That. I’m sorry I didn’t mention it before, but I…well…I get night terrors.”

My brows raised.

“Night terrors?”

“Yeah. I’ve had them for a long time, recurring nightmares that make me lash out in my sleep.”

“Would it help if you talk about it…the dream, I mean?”

Arthur wouldn’t look me in the eyes.

“It’s really embarrassing.”

“Arthur, I’ve seen you—and plenty of others—without makeup. How embarrassing could it be?”

I smiled teasingly at Arthur and gave him a wink.

He smiled weakly.

“You’re not going to leave me alone until I tell you, are you?”

“Do you really want me to?”

He shrugged. He took a shaking breath before he began.

“I dream of a huge crowd of people surrounding me. They close in on me, slowly, until I can’t move or breathe, and then…and then they start to tear me apart.”

I frowned. That wasn’t embarrassing. That was terrifying.

It was no wonder Arthur reacted so violently in his sleep. I wouldn’t mention to him that he also cried. It would be best to let him maintain some of his dignity.

I reached out and grabbed Arthur’s hand.

“That’s nothing to be embarrassed of,” I said. “It sounds like a perfectly normal stress dream.”

Arthur cocked his head at me.

“Stress dream?”

“You’re probably having this dream because you’re stressed by all the fans who keep crowding you.”

“I doubt that fame is affecting me that badly,” he murmured.

“Are you sure?” I asked. “It has a way of straining even the strongest among us.”

“I guess you would know.” He sighed. “I don’t know.”

“Well, you know that you can talk to me about anything, right?”

Arthur studied me for a moment, then nodded.

“Yeah, I know.” He paused. “I suppose we should try to get back to sleep now.”

I could see the reluctance in his eyes.

“Do you want me to stay with you until you fall asleep?”

He looked at me with wide eyes.

“Would you?”

I smiled.

“Move over.”

He scooched down on the couch. I sat where his head had been.

“Come on, put your head here,” I said as I patted my lap.

Arthur hesitated, then lay with the back of his head on my lap. He stared up at me with a sweetly innocent look that I’ve never seen on a man’s face.

“Thank you,” he said.

He closed his eyes as I stroked his hair. Within minutes, he was sleeping peacefully.

Sitting there, stroking his hair, I was reminded of all the times I would help Michael get back to sleep after a nightmare when we were children. Tears stung my eyes. It was a bitter-sweet pain.

I closed my eyes and set my head back on the couch. All the muscles in my body relaxed. My fingers slowed their stroking as I drifted off to sleep.

•* *

The next morning, Arthur and I parted without mentioning the night before. He looked better rested than I could ever remember seeing him, and his smile was wider and more genuine than before. I silently wished for sweet dreams for him until the next time we saw each other.

That afternoon, I decided to give Stand Up another try. I had nowhere else to be, so I thought it worth the trip, especially if I might be able to get a glimpse of Barnett. It was a long shot, but I was willing to try.

By the time I got there, the gym was swarmed by my fans. I could barely even get a parking spot, let alone leave my car. They surrounded me, blocking the path from the parking lot to the gym’s front door.

“God,” I murmured to myself, “how do they know where I’m going to be?”

Of course, Barnett’s gold Aston Martin was a dead giveaway, but I still didn’t understand how they managed to beat me everywhere. Then I saw a camera, and it hit me.

“Damn paparazzi spies.”

I was really starting to hate those pathetic excuses for reporters. I needed to ask Arthur, Lily, and Barnett how they handled these leeches. Obviously, they were doing something to handle them better than I was.

I took a deep breath and forced myself to calm down. There was nothing to do now but wade my way through the sea of…love, as Arthur put it.

I stepped out of the car, and the closest fans circled me.

“Anna! Anna Leonard! Is it true that you’re dating Barnett Cogsworth?”

“No, she’s back together with her ex-husband, Bob Hayes!”

“Anna, sign my Freyja headband!”

“Anna, take a selfie with me!”

I kept taking deep breaths in an attempt to not have a panic attack.

“Sorry,” I shouted over the crowd, “but I’m not signing anything or taking any selfies today. I’m just trying to get into Stand Up.”

I tried to step forward, but the crowd only closed in on me. Images of the dream that Arthur had described to me flashed through my mind.

My breathing suddenly became shallow. My palms grew sweaty. My heart raced.

I gently pushed my way through the crowd, trying not to touch anyone. People reached out and grabbed at me. Cameras and camera phones flashed and blinded me.

Someone grabbed my duffel bag and pulled on me. I lost my balance. My arms flailed as I tried to steady myself.

Then my hand made contact with something—hard.

“Ow!”