His forehead touched the top of her head.
“Nathan?”
He sighed. “Seems benign enough. I need to check with some people.”
“Okay. The only thing I remember after that is being in the SUV with the FBI agents and my father.” Nathan didn’t respond.
“I want to remember, dammit.”
“Don’t try to force it. You know that.”
Emily had been told numerous times by numerous therapists that straining to recover memories was the surest way to keep them at bay.
“I know that. How do you know that?”
“I had some exposure to PTSD in the Navy.”
“Oh, I see.” Her index finger skated idly over his forearm.
“How do you do that?”
“Do what?”
“Know when to leave it? Sometimes you push and needle and ask a dozen follow-up questions about something. Then, other times, you just drop it. It’s like you know.”
“I’m not sure. I guess I just feel it when you can’t or aren’t ready to say more.”
He stared at her with the most loving, possessive gaze she had ever seen, and she remembered what his mother used to say about their eyes. She touched the corner of hers. “Like a violet.” She touched the corner of his. “And a leaf.” He pulled her back, so she was resting on his chest.
“Emily?”
“Yes?”
“Thank you for coming back to me.”
“Thank you for waiting.”