He's mumbling in his sleep and she shifts closer. His eyes move beneath the lids and he twitches, moaning again "Raylan," she whispers. "Wake up. You're dreaming." He doesn't respond and she touches his shoulder. He jerks and his eyes flutter open. "You were talking in your sleep," she says, soft. "Bad dream?"
"Yeah," his voice is gravelly. He stretches, fingers trailing along her back. "It's okay now, go back to sleep."
She leans up on one elbow and brushes the hair out of his eyes. "You wanna tell me about the dream? Was it about the shooting?"
"No," he says. He hesitates. "I was dreamin' about Harlan."
"You were dreaming about Kentucky?" She laughs. "That was a bad dream." She runs her thumb along his forehead and temple, pressing gently. He closes his eyes.
"That feels good," he says. "I worked in the mines for a while when I was just outta high school, did I ever tell you that?"
She shakes her head, resisting the urge to remind him how little he shares with her. "No, you didn't." Maybe in this safe cocoon of darkness he'll reveal some of the past he holds so tightly. She waits and listens. After a few minutes he goes on.
"We were down pretty deep and there was a cave-in. There were four of us trapped in the dark with alarms going off all around and dust choking the air out of us. Not for long, thank God. One of the guys got us out, right before a second cave in closed off the way to the elevators. Scariest thing ever happened to me. I still dream about it sometimes. This is the first time in a long while."
"That would be scary." She tries to picture him, young, scared, covered in coal dust; but she can't reconcile it with the man in her bed.
"I hated that mine."
"Why did you do it?"
He shrugs, and his gaze shifts away like it always does when he doesn't want to talk about something. But he takes a deep breath and meets her eyes. "Nothin' else to do in Harlan. You're a miner, or you're a farmer, or you're a criminal, like Arlo. Helen saved me. She got me out. Weren't for her..."
"You'd have found a way out," she says. "I know you would've." She wonders though, if he'd still be there, maybe not in the mine, and certainly not a farmer, but if he hadn't gotten out, would he have become his father? A realization hits her; that's his biggest fear. That he still might.
He strokes her hair. "Dream's over. I'm fine, you can go back to sleep."
She shrugs. "I'm not sleepy."
"Well, in that case..." He raises an eyebrow, and grins wickedly, sliding a hand up under her t-shirt.
She pulls the shirt off over her head and he rolls so that she's on top of him, her hair hanging down like a curtain around them. He mouths one taut nipple, tongue circling, then repeats on the other breast. His hands cup her bottom, raising her up so he can slide in. "You drive me crazy," he says. "You know that?"
"Good," she says, smiling. She kisses his mouth, running her fingers through his hair, moving her hips under his hands. He slides his hands up, gripping her waist, holding her still. "I love you."
"I love you, too." She wriggles against him, and he groans. She eases down to kiss him, but he places a hand on her chest, holding her upright. "Stay there. I like watching you."
"Oh, you do, do you?" She teases. "Well, then, by all means, watch." She puts on a show...circling her hips, rising up then dropping back down slowly. She bites her lip and runs her hands through her hair. His eyes are dark coals burning her skin. He's holding her hips again, grinding up against her. She shivers and closes her eyes.
His hand comes up, thumb teasing her nipple. "Open your eyes," he whispers.
She forces them open and he sits up, grabbing her waist and pulling her flush against him, their faces inches apart. They rock together, eyes locked until they're both riding the same wave of release.
He holds her close, arms wrapped tight around her, and eases over onto his side. She opens her eyes and he's staring at her. Her stomach does a flip and somehow she knows what's he's going to say before the words come out.
"Marry me."
She gapes at him and he smiles. "I love you. I want to go to bed with you every night and wake up and see you every morning."
"You already do," she laughs.
"Marry me," he says again, softer this time, less confident, and she chides herself for her glib response. He's still looking at her, waiting for her answer. Her throat is tight and her heart is beating wildly, she's sure he can feel it.
"Raylan," she says. She puts a hand to his cheek and kisses him.
He pulls back, studying her face. "Is that a 'yes'?"
She nods. "Yes, I'll marry you."
His eyes light up like a boy's, and there's no shadow there. It's pure happiness, and it makes her laugh. She loves him, with all the anger and darkness he carries and all of his intensity; he makes her feel alive. He makes her feel needed and wanted and loved, things she hasn't felt in a long, long time.
-o-o-O-o-o-
Winona's back is pressed against him when he wakes. He throws an arm around her and she turns toward him, burrowing her head into his shoulder. "I had the strangest dream last night," he says.
He feels her smile. "Oh, yeah? The one about the mine?"
"No, this was a good dream. A really good dream."
"You mean the one where you asked me to marry you and I said 'yes'?"
"You had the same dream? Wow," he laughs. "What are the odds?"
"Yeah," she says, moving up to kiss him. "What are the odds?"
-o-o-O-o-o-
The smell of bacon drifts into the bathroom as he's getting out of the shower. He dries off quickly, pulls on his jeans and follows the aroma out to the kitchen. There's a pile of bacon on a plate on the counter and the skillet is still sizzling. Winona is standing at the stove in his shirt with an egg in her hand. "Scrambled or over easy?" She asks.
"You're cooking?" He says, puzzled. "I thought you didn't cook. You wait until you've reeled me in to reveal this?"
"I had to be sure you didn't just want me for my culinary skills." She laughs. "I can manage bacon and eggs."
"Over easy then." He comes up behind and lifts her hair, planting a kiss behind her ear. "Good morning."
"Morning," she says, turning and kissing him on the mouth. "There's coffee, and I'll take some, too, if you don't mind. Now, back off, Cowboy, and let me cook." She cracks the egg into the skillet.
He peers over her shoulder. "Is that the bacon grease?"
"Is there any other way to cook eggs?"
"No, there is not," he says. It reminds him of the mornings he would wake up at Helen's, safe from Arlo's unpredictable fits of anger or the evidence of it on his mother's face. It's strange, but that feeling of safety is here, now. He hadn't even realized he missed it.
He fetches the coffee, fixing hers the way she likes it with just a little sugar. There's no cream in the fridge, so he doctors his with milk instead.
She finishes the eggs, slides them onto a plate and sets it on the counter. "Eat. You gotta be hungry after all the energy you expended last night." She grins at him, and he steals another kiss.
She takes her own plate and sits on the stool beside him. They eat in comfortable silence.
"If we're engaged I guess I'd better go get you a ring."
The coffee cup is halfway to her lips but she sets it down, wrapping both hands around it. "Before you spend that kind of money on jewelry, I'd rather have a place of our own."
"I thought all women wanted diamonds."
"We've got plenty of time for that. You can get me a diamond on our tenth anniversary," she says.
"Alright then, we'll start looking for a place."
"I love you and I'm really, really happy," she smiles at him.
He reaches over and squeezes her hand, reminded of that first morning after they met. "So am I."