Elle kept her voice gentle and didn’t reach out to touch her. Jun shivered.
“Is it okay if I check your pulse?”
Jun nodded.
“Thank you.” She gently took Jun’s wrist and pressed her fingers against it, feeling the racing heartbeat and her clammy skin. She had her stethoscope but didn’t want to spook Jun by touching her anywhere near her chest. “I need you to take some slow breaths for me, all right? Concentrate on filling your lungs all the way up and then releasing it slowly. You’re safe now.”
Jun attempted the deep breathing, and though the breaths were by no means long ones, they were sufficient to keep her from hyperventilating or worsening the panic response.
“Good.”
“I feel like I’m going to pass out,” she said between breaths. “My chest hurts.”
“You’re having a panic attack from the flashback, which may make you feel like you’re dying. But it’s just your mind trying to protect you, okay? Your body’s acting like there’s present danger, but it’s sending a false signal,” Elle soothed. “Whatever memory got to you is just that, a memory. You’re here at The Grove on Saturday afternoon. You’re safe. You’re not hurt. No one here is going to hurt you.”
“I hurt Lane,” she whispered.
Elle glanced at Lane. The gashes in his cheek had to burn like hell, but his attention was solidly on Jun.
“Lane’s a big boy. He can survive a few scratches.”
Lane gave Jun’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Don’t worry
about me. Just listen to the doc and breathe.”
Jun pressed the heels of her hands against her eye sockets, her body still racked with a deep trembling. “Please give me a sleeping pill. I’ve never needed one so bad in my life. I can’t…think about that night. I could see them, could smell their sweat, could feel—please. Just give me something to knock me the fuck out.”
Elle frowned. Sleeping pills had been one of the things Jun had detoxed from when she’d come into the rehab program. Affording her that kind of oblivion would only make things worse, but she wasn’t going to break that news to her right now. “Let’s get you back to the unit and we can help you feel better. Okay?”
After a long moment, Jun nodded and whispered, “Okay.”
Jun didn’t fight when Raymond rolled in a wheelchair and they transported her back to Elle’s unit. Lane followed them, wanting to make sure Jun was okay. Other patients gazed curiously at the group when they headed toward Jun’s room, but the mind-your-own-business look Elle gave them quelled the stares.
Oriana was waiting for Jun when they arrived. Elle briefed her on what had happened and ordered the nurse to bring a dose of a non-addictive anxiety pill that would give Jun some relief without knocking her out. Ori would handle the talk therapy since she was the primary counselor on the case, and Elle would check in with Jun later. Jun’s current diagnosis didn’t include PTSD but if she was having flashbacks, Elle and Ori would need to dig deeper.
Once Elle had everything squared away, she turned to find Lane waiting outside in one of the cushy armchairs. He had cleaned off some of the blood but his scratches still looked angry and red. He stood, frown lines bracketing his mouth. “Is she okay?”
Elle blew out a breath and looped the stethoscope she’d been holding around her neck. “She’s calmer and Oriana will help her talk some of it through. I also gave her meds to help.”
He nodded, worry etched around his eyes. “Good. She was so terrified. She wasn’t there with me anymore and to think I triggered—”
Elle held up a hand. “Why don’t you come to an exam room and I’ll get you cleaned up? We shouldn’t discuss details out here. The rehab unit is all about the gossip.”
He touched his cheek and flinched. “It’s just a few scratches.”
“And a torn shirt and a bite mark on your shoulder.”
He glanced down at his shoulder like he hadn’t even noticed.
She cocked her head. “Come on. You don’t want to let bite marks or fingernail scratches fester. Lots of germs, high risk of infection.”
He looked too tired to argue. He pushed himself up from the chair and followed her to a room near her office that doubled as a secondary exam room and a place where unruly patients were taken to cool down. She directed him to the paper-covered exam table and went to the cabinet for supplies.
As long as she kept moving, stayed focus on the task at hand, she didn’t have to think about the fact that she was alone with Lane in a room. She snapped on latex gloves and stood in front of him, eyeing the gashes in his cheek and studiously avoiding his gaze. The cuts were deeper than she’d expected and ragged. “She got you good. That woman is probably a hundred pounds soaking wet. How’d she inflict this much damage?”
He ran a hand over the back of his head. “The power of mortal fear. I could see it in her eyes. She was no longer there with me. I was one of her attackers, and she lost it. I could’ve stopped her, but if I had tried to hold her arms or restrain her in some way, how bad would those memories have gotten? How much deeper into that hell would they have taken her? I’m trained in some things, but not how to bring someone out of a flashback. I didn’t want to make it worse.”
Elle’s gaze flicked up, meeting his. “So you just let her attack you?”