CHAPTER 263: HIS NAME IN MY DREAMS

Easter~

The morning sunlight spilled like liquid gold across the pavement as I walked Rose to her preschool, her little hand wrapped tightly around mine. The small brick building ahead looked the same as always, but something felt...off. Or maybe that something was me.

Just minutes ago, we’d been talking with Jacob—my new neighbor. The dreamy one with the lazy smile and eyes that looked like they knew secrets you wanted to hear. It was just small talk, really. But the second he said, "Bye, Daddy Jacob!" and I had to turn and walk away? It felt like someone had pressed pause on a really good scene before I was ready for it to end.

Ridiculous, I know. I barely knew the guy. He was just being polite. But there was this strange tug in my chest, like I’d walked away from something important. Something I wasn’t supposed to walk away from. I mean, who feels that much over a two-minute conversation?

Rose’s fingers squeezed mine tighter, and I glanced down. Maybe she sensed my weird energy—or maybe she just didn’t want to go inside yet. I didn’t blame her. I kind of didn’t want to let go either.

We reached her classroom and her little unicorn backpack bounced as she skipped in. She turned, her green eyes—so much like mine—sparkling. "Bye-bye, Mommy! Say hi to Daddy Jacob!"

I tensed.

Miss Clara, her teacher, arched a curious brow, but I gave her a small smile, then crouched down and kissed Rose’s forehead. "Remember what I told you, baby? Jacob’s just our neighbor, okay?"

Rose pouted. "But he’s not just the neighbor. He’s special."

I touched her cheek and whispered, "We’ll talk about this later." I didn’t want to ruin her morning with another debate about imaginary ’magic men’ and wolf daddies.

I left quickly after that.

College campus was bustling when I arrived—people chatting on benches, music from someone’s Bluetooth speaker pulsing in the background, and the smell of fried snacks from the cafeteria wafting in the air. But even in the chaos, all I could think about was him.

Jacob.

His eyes, like deep earth soaked in autumn rain. That warm, boyish smile. The way his voice wrapped around you like a wool coat on a chilly morning. How safe I felt in his presence, like nothing in the world could touch me when he was around.

But that made no sense.

I barely knew him.

Still... I couldn’t stop.

Through my first class, I caught myself sketching his name on the edge of my notebook like a silly schoolgirl. In my second class, I nearly spilled coffee all over my bag while daydreaming about how his hair would feel between my fingers. By the third class, I’d accepted the truth: I had a massive, unreasonable crush on my mysterious, absurdly perfect new neighbor.

And that scared me.

You’re a single mom, I told myself sternly. You’re pregnant. You’ve got a messy past, trauma, scars. Why would someone like him want you?

My hands clenched under the desk. My body had healed, yes. But my heart?

Still a battlefield.

"Hey."

I glanced up—and there he was. Brandon– classmate of mine—leaning casually over my desk like he owned the room, like this was just another scene in the Brandon Show and I was a reluctant guest star.

His signature smirk stretched across his annoyingly perfect face. That sharp jawline, smooth skin, and eyes just a bit too confident for my liking—like he knew every girl in the department secretly dreamed about him. Which, honestly, wasn’t far from the truth. He was the class president, the guy who always had the right words, the right grades, and somehow, teeth so flawless they could’ve starred in a toothpaste commercial.

But me?

I didn’t get butterflies. I got secondhand embarrassment just watching him work the room.

"Hi, Brandon," I said, offering him a polite half-smile—the kind that said please go away but I’m too nice to say it out loud.

He didn’t take the hint. Of course he didn’t.

"So..." He leaned in a little closer, lowering his voice like we were sharing some kind of top secret. "Have you given any thought to what I said last week?"

Ah. That again.

I resisted the urge to sigh out loud. Instead, I smiled tightly and blinked slowly, buying myself a second of internal screaming.

For the past week—and by "week," I mean seven painfully persistent days—Brandon had been trying to land a yes out of me. Coffee, lunch, some charity gala he claimed would be totally fun. Every time, I’d politely say no. Every time, he’d come back like I was just playing hard to get.

Spoiler: I wasn’t. I was just... not interested.

Still, here we were.

Again.

"I told you, I’m not looking to date," I replied gently. "I’m—well, I’m a divorcee. I have a three-year-old daughter, and..." I hesitated, placing my hand subtly over my belly, "...I’m expecting again."

He blinked. "I mean... so?"

I stared at him. "So?" Was he serious?

He shrugged, looking unfazed. "I like you, Easter. You’re gorgeous. Smart. And you’ve got this... warm energy. I don’t care about all that other stuff."

I smiled, but it didn’t reach my eyes. "I appreciate that. I really do. But I’m not in that space. I’m trying to put my life back together, not throw it into another whirlwind."

Brandon let out a theatrical sigh, still not backing down. "One coffee. That’s all I’m asking."

"Brandon..."

"I’m just saying—if you ever want a guy who sees you for the goddess you are—"

"Thank you," I cut in, holding my palm up. "But I’m already waiting on someone."

My heart stuttered at the confession.

Someone I shouldn’t be waiting on. Someone who wasn’t even mine.

He raised a brow. "Your ex?"

"No," I said softly, "someone better."

After class, I picked Rose up from preschool, trying to shake off the weird haze clinging to my thoughts.

"Did you have a good day?" I asked as we walked home.

"Mm-hmm!" she chirped. "We painted fish and learned about the sea. Miss Clara said mine looked like a whale but I told her it was Daddy Jacob in fish form!"

I nearly tripped on a crack in the sidewalk.

"Oh, Rose..."

She giggled and danced ahead of me, twirling her pigtails like streamers.

When we reached our house, my eyes instinctively drifted across the street.

Jacob’s house was... quiet.

His car was still out front—same spot as this morning, like it hadn’t moved an inch. But something felt off. The windows were dark, not even a flicker of light inside. No movement. No silhouette. Just... stillness. Like the car was there, but he wasn’t.

I frowned. He’d said we could meet after my classes. Maybe he was busy. Maybe something came up. But... would it have killed him to let me know somehow?

Maybe I wasn’t that important.

Maybe he just said yes to be nice.

I made us a light dinner, though I barely ate. My stomach was all tangled up in feelings I didn’t want to name. Rose, on the other hand, chattered happily about octopus facts while dipping apple slices in peanut butter.

I helped her with her homework, brushed her hair, and read her favorite bedtime story—The Wind and the Firefly—before kissing her forehead and tucking her in.

Jacob still hadn’t come home.

A pit formed in my chest. Did I mess up? Was I reading too much into things?

Eventually, I drifted off on the couch. When I awoke, the house was dark. My neck ached, and a storm stirred outside the window. Rain tapped gently on the glass, almost like whispers.

Jacob’s house remained dark.

Something ached behind my ribs.

Disappointed, I dragged myself upstairs and curled up in bed.

That night...

I dreamt of him.

Jacob stood in the doorway of my room, shirtless, golden moonlight catching every curve of muscle across his chest. His hair was slightly wet, curling at the ends, his eyes glowing with something wild– it felt warm and intense and hungry.

I sat up in bed, heart thundering.

He said nothing. Just walked toward me, slowly, each step deliberate.

"Jacob..." I breathed.

He crawled onto the bed, eyes never leaving mine. His fingers reached out and tucked a curl behind my ear. "You look like a dream," he whispered.

My lips parted.

He leaned in, so close I could feel his breath on my skin. "Do you know how long I’ve wanted to touch you?"

I shook my head slightly, trembling under his gaze.

He kissed me then.

Soft. Sweet.

Then deeper.

His hand cradled my cheek, the other sliding along my waist with reverent slowness. My body arched into his like it had always belonged there. We melted into each other, breathless and warm, the sheets tangling around us as the world outside vanished.

He whispered my name against my throat like it was sacred.

I moaned his into the crook of his neck.

I felt whole.

Cherished.

Wanted.

Loved.

He undressed me, slowly.

My hands moved all over his muscular body. We moved together like waves, like wolves beneath moonlight, a symphony of longing and belonging. I whispered that I was scared, and he said he would never hurt me. Never leave me. That he’d been waiting lifetimes just to find me.

And I believed him.

I believed every word.

But unfortunately, I jolted awake.

Sweat clung to my skin, dampening my nightshirt. My legs were tangled in the sheets, my breath ragged, my heart beating like a drum inside my chest.

I lay there in the dark, stunned.

What just happened?

The dream had been so vivid. So real. I could still feel his lips on mine, the press of his body, the way he’d looked at me like I was his whole world.

I covered my face with trembling hands.

What was wrong with me?

How could I dream about a man like that—a man who barely knew me? A man who probably didn’t see me that way? I was broken. Bruised. Pregnant. And still somehow... aching for him.

I turned my head, eyes drifting to the window across the street.

Still dark.

Still no sign of him.

A tear slipped down my cheek as I whispered into the night:

"Why do I feel like I’ve known you forever...?"