She stared down at her clenched hands. “I hate this. I hate feeling like a victim, like I’m weak.”
“You are not weak,” Logan growled at her.
“You’re one of the strongest people I know,” Max added.
“How do you figure that? I can’t even walk outside for God’s sake.”
There was a moment of silence.
She glanced up at them, but didn’t see surprise.
“You knew?”
“We suspected,” Max said. “What happens when you try to walk outside?”
“I panic. I feel sick and dizzy. Out of control.”
“When did you figure this out?” Max asked.
“A few days ago. On your birthday.”
“You should have told us,” Logan scolded.
“I know,” she whispered. “But I…I thought if I just buried everything deep it would go away and we could go on as if everything was normal. But all I did was drive you both away.”
“Nothing will drive us away from you,” Max told her.
“You don’t sleep in the same bed with me. You’ve moved me into this bedroom. Is it because he touched me? Is that it?”
“What the hell?” Logan stood and started pacing. “Fuck no, that has nothing to do with it.”
The loss of him beside her was like a gaping hole inside her. Why had she started this? Why hadn’t she gone on with the pretense that everything was fine?
“We thought we were doing the right thing,” Max told her, looking miserable. “We were so terrified when he took you. We had no idea where you were.”
“Or if you were hurt,” Logan added darkly.
“When you were in that hospital bed, you seemed so fragile. You are so precious to us, Savannah. We swore we would do whatever it took to protect you. We couldn’t stand the idea of us scaring you, of maybe hurting you.”
They could never hurt her. She’d never thought that for a minute. But she knew how protective they were of her.
Max turned to Logan. “You were right. We need help.”
“Help? What do you mean?” She stared from one to the other.
Max and Logan looked at each other. “Trace gave me the number of a therapist who might be able to help you. We think you should talk to her.”
A therapist?
“You think I need a therapist?” she asked.
Of course, you do. You can’t even go outside.
She stared down at her hands, which were gripped together so tightly her skin was white from the pressure.
Two hands landed on hers. One was wider and had a deeper tan. The other was scratched and bruised with long, almost elegant fingers. They warmed her chilled skin, and she looked up at the two men she loved more than life. It might have been easier to live in the bubble she’d erected, but it wasn’t worth not feeling this. Not feeling them.
“He’s gone, he’s locked away, he can’t hurt me, and yet every time I close my eyes, he’s there. He won’t leave me alone. He haunts me day and night. It was easier when I pushed everything deep down, keeping myself from feeling much of anything.”