Bo felt herself being brought out of her dream state by someone shoving at her arm.
She blinked and remembered where she was. A train station toilette.
Tate spoke as she sat up. "Hey, hey come on. I told you I don't like you laying on me like that."
She watched him stand up an irritated look taking over her features. "Sorry, I was dreaming."
"Yeah, about what?" Tate asked, disinterest clear in his tone.
Bo tucked her hair behind her ear as she responded. "That you we're my dad."
"Jeez, that's not a dream. Sounds like a freakin' nightmare."
Bo thought about this as she collected the few items she had with her together.
It had been quite the opposite of a nightmare really.
She'd been imagining the same house in the same little town with the same nondescript mom. Only this time the features and figure around those pale grey/blue eyes had been clear.
And it was clearly Tate.
The only thing that bothered Bo was that nothing had seemed out of place. It felt almost normal. Like Tate was the missing piece to a puzzle that, for years, she'd only had the outline of.
She clutched Stanley tighter.
It was only a dream, her mind wandering during half consciousness.
Tate wasn't her dad. This wasn't gong to become a new constant.
Or at least Bo tried to convince herself that both were true.