Free Never Letting Go (Delphian Book 1) by Christina Channelle

was absolutely no reason for me to be crying right now.
    But I was soon given the answer as he spoke next, his gray eyes glittering with his own tears.
    “I’m sorry, baby, but this is only a dream.”
    My body instantly froze, my eyes widening in shock. I felt my heart breaking into tiny fragments and I grabbed at my chest, another tear helplessly falling down my cheek. I closed my eyes in denial, his voice still echoing in my head. Never in my life had I wanted to reject something as much as those words.
    Only a dream.
     
     

CHAPTER ELEVEN
     
     
    I INSTANTLY WOKE up to tears streaming down my face.
    I realized everything I had just experienced was nothing more than a figment of my imagination. I was no longer on a beautiful white beach with strong arms wrapped around me as we spoke loving words to one another. There was no sun beating down on our skin as I used my hands to block out the strong rays. I could no longer hear the sound of the ocean crashing as it engaged in an internal battle with itself. No, none of that ever happened.
    Because he was dead.
    I was alone in my bedroom. It was a rather dark and depressing room—shades closed, windows drawn. I lay on my back staring up at my white ceiling. I could hear the tick, tick, tick of my clock above my computer desk far off in the corner. It was a constant reminder of the days that still moved on without him. I had an itch to walk over, rip the clock from the wall, and hurl it out the window. I wanted to hear the sounds of splintering wood and broken glass. But that would take too much energy and bring in the dreadful light.
    So I blinked instead.
    And I did not want a reminder of the happiness that was most certainly brewing outside on a Sunday morning, birds chirping, little children playing, a most guaranteed scenario.
    Instead I wanted to drown in my sorrows, however pathetic that may sound.
    I rubbed both eyes aggressively with the palm of my hand and wiped away my spilt tears. Sighing, I slowly rolled out of bed, and shuffled toward the bathroom adjoined to my room. I flicked on the light and blinked a few times against the sudden brightness.
    Then I looked in the mirror.
    I was a mess. My thick hair was in a tangled disarray around my head. Eyes were presently bloodshot from crying every night since that night. I felt dirty, knowing that I probably hadn’t showered in a while, maybe a day or two—I honestly couldn’t recall.
    Not that I cared.
    I could still remember the feel of him though, that familiar scent of him. I closed my eyes at the memory. He smelled like a breath of fresh air … and cinnamon. I always found myself with my nose buried against his skin, inhaling his essence, much to his amusement. His rumbling laugh would give me goose bumps every time I heard them; his eyes would look down at me with so much tenderness and want that it would make my heart ache every time I saw them.
    His lips…
    I flinched at the successive knocks on my bedroom door and snapped out of my daydream. Giving my head a shake, I looked over at my door in irritation. Then I shuffled back out of the bathroom and stared silently at the entrance, sizing it up. I wondered if I should even open it, not really in the mood for small talk among my roommates.
    They didn’t know how to deal with someone in mourning.
    “Hey,” the voice whispered softly through the doorway, almost achingly.
    A lump formed in my throat hearing that simple word being said by that particular voice. It was a voice I hadn’t heard in such a long time. Tears started to well up in my eyes again. I had an incredible desire to sink down to the floor, not knowing if I would be able to handle the impending onslaught of emotions that I knew were sure to come.
    “Come on, now. Open the door.” This time it was said more firmly and I could clearly see the doorknob rattling.
    I blinked once, then I unlocked the door, opening it, ignoring the creakiness of its hinges. I was then left standing in front of