“It’s okay, baby. You’re safe. I have you. No one will hurt you again.”
Her breath sawed in and out of her lungs. The other man returned, holding out a glass of water. She knew him. He smiled at her gently.
“Travis.”
“That’s me.”
Slowly, reality came back. She lived in Haven now. This was her bedroom. Travis and Curt were staying with her.
“Here, baby, have a drink.”
Curt held the glass of water to her lips. She tried to take it from him, but he just gave her a firm look. She dropped her hand and started to drink.
“Easy now, don’t make yourself sick,” he told her.
“So thirsty. Always thirsty. Never enough water.”
She felt Curt tighten his hold on her. “Fuck,” he muttered under his breath.
“Don’t swear,” she chided, remembering how he liked to scold her for doing the same.
“Sorry, baby.”
He was being so gentle. He kissed the top of her head as he rocked her. She could snuggle in against that wide chest and let him take care of her forever. Let him take care of everything. It would be so easy to allow him to take charge—to give up.
But she couldn’t do that. She had to fight. She was stronger than this.
“Flashback?” Travis asked, crouching in front of her.
“Yes,” she answered as steadily as she could manage. There was no use denying it.
“Do you have them often?”
He kept his voice low, and his face was filled with sympathy, but there was no pity that she could see. And that gave her the courage to answer him.
“Not anymore. When I . . . when I first got home I had a hard time adjusting. Sometimes I would wake up and I wouldn’t know where I was. I’d think I was back there. In that hut. Or in the village, standing next to Alana as she was shot.” She gulped, resisting the urge to bury her face in Curt’s chest and hide. “Sometimes things would set off a flashback. A noise or a smell.” She stiffened, trying to remember what she’d been doing in the moments before the flashback. “I’m not sure what happened this time.”
“A car backfired,” Curt told her.
“Ah, right.”
“Although you seemed on edge when I knocked on the door.”
She frowned. Then she remembered. “My phone. Where is it?” She tried to push away from Curt, but he kept a tight hold. “I need to find it.”
“Stay still. I need to hold you a little longer.” She froze and looked up into his face, shocked by his words. He stared down at her with haunted eyes.
She cupped his face. “I’m okay, Curt. I’m fine. That wasn’t even a bad one. Sometimes I’ll wake up in the middle of a full-blown panic attack. I rarely get them anymore and when I do, they don’t affect me as badly. Plus, this time . . .” she trailed off.
“This time what?” he asked.
Before she had to answer, to tell him she thought she was coping better because he was here, Travis had found her phone and returned it to her. “Here it is.”
She opened the messages and held her phone so they could both see.
“Mother-fucking bastards,” Curt swore. This time she didn’t bother to scold him. She totally agreed with the sentiment.
“I’ll send the phone numbers to Jace so he can trace them,” Travis said. “If you don’t mind me taking your phone for a bit?”