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            You wake because Sam is shaking you and calling your name. Reluctantly, you make yourself wake up and open your eyes. In a moment they adjust to the dark, and you look up at Sam confusedly.

            “Sam, what are you doing?” You mumble.

            He lets out a relieved breath. He looks worried, fearful, panicked almost to the point of tears.

            “What’s wrong?” You ask.

            “I thought you were dead.” He breathes.

            “Dead?” You raise an eyebrow. “Why would I be dead?”

            “You were just lying there, and I was shaking you . . .” His voice shakes. “But you wouldn’t wake up. You wouldn’t wake up, and I thought . . . I thought you were dead.”

            Clenching his jaw, Sam grips both of your shoulders fearfully and gazes into your eyes. He’s still shaken by what he saw and thought.

            “I think it was just a dream, Sam.” You cup his cheek with your hand. “You had a bad dream. It was just a nightmare.”

            “It didn’t feel like a nightmare.”

            “Nightmares tend to feel pretty real. I’m okay, Sam.” You brush a stray eyelash from the side of his nose. “Can I go back to sleep now?”

            “Yeah.” He lets go of your shoulders. “Yeah. Sorry.”

            You settle back into a sleeping position, and Sam curls up next to you. He wraps both arms around your waist, pulls you close, and rests his head on your chest just above your heart. Looping your arm under and around his neck, you play lightly with his hair.

            “We wake up like this sometimes.” You whisper. “Do you get nightmares a lot?”

            “Not as bad as this one, but yes.” He takes a slow breath. “I like hearing your heartbeat. It lets me know you’re still alive.”