There it was again. If he could just hold on to Annie’s voice…
He moved his hand, and found fingers clutching it. He’d have to let Annie go soon. He couldn’t take her with him to the places they took him. Couldn’t have her see or know…
“You’re safe. We’re all here with you.” He still heard her.
The fingers moved to his wrist.
Don’t go, Annie. Please don’t go.
“His pulse is high, but not alarmingly so. It’s slowing down now.”
“Cole’s here. And me. And Becky…”
His hand was gently placed back at his side. On the softness of fabric. Fabric. He had clothes on.
He…
Oh, God.
He was in Cole Lawry’s living room.
He’d had an episode. One of the worst he’d had in more than eighteen months.
And everyone had seen it. If he opened his eyes they’d be there, staring at him. Knowing.
Trapped in an entirely new kind of hell, Blake considered his options.
And because he was Blake, because he was a man who didn’t run, who didn’t shy away from the hard work, who only shied away from hurting those he cared about, he did what any man in his position would do.
He fell asleep.
“OKAY, SO TELL ME what’s going on.”
Dressed in jeans, a short white top and the sweater she’d pulled on just before she’d run out the door, Annie sat at Cole’s kitchen table with her brother and Becky, drinking cups of the too-strong coffee Cole had brewed.She and Cole both looked to Becky, who was holding her cup with both hands. Annie couldn’t look at the bruise on her brother’s cheek. It scared her to death.
“I can’t give an official diagnosis, of course,” Becky said. “But from what I know about Blake’s history and from what I’ve seen tonight, I’d say he suffers from post-traumatic stress disorder.”
“What does that mean, specifically?” Cole asked. “I know the basic parameters, the stuff everyone knows. But not like this. How often does it happen? Will he always go through this? Isn’t there anything anyone can do to help him?”
Annie’s heart froze in fear as Cole’s questions came pouring out.
“I can’t answer you, Cole,” Becky said, frowning. “Not specifically. As far as I know, every case is different. But generally speaking, it all depends.”
“On what?” Annie leaned forward, looking to her
friend for honesty.
“How much he suffered when he was there. What, exactly, they did to him…”
“He said there was no physical abuse. I assumed that meant he was treated okay, but just not free to leave.”
“Maybe. But with what I just saw in there, I’d say no.”
“So what was that in there?” Cole was on his second cup of coffee.
Unable to sit still, filled with an uncomfortable energy she didn’t entirely understand, Annie paced to the door of the kitchen, peeking in on Blake in the next room, just to reassure herself he was really asleep.
And sleeping peacefully.