I needed air.
I needed space.
I needed my husband back.
But instead of Thomas, all I could see was Rett.
All I could feel was his lips on mine.
The second I burst through the door and onto the front porch, I stumbled to my knees, sucking in the night air even as my throat continued to narrow and my heart continued to knock a hole in my chest, as an invisible band circled it, getting tighter and tighter by the second.
It was happening again and nothing I did would stop it.
I had to suffer through every damn nightmare, through every flashback, through every panic attack.
My only option was to ride it out.
Helpless and lost, I sat back on my haunches, curled over my lap and dropped my head into my hands.
Desperate to forget. Afraid to forget.
Wanting to move on. Afraid to move on without him.
My torso felt as heavy as lead as I struggled to sit up.
As I drove my fingers into my hair.
As I began to pull.
And pull.
And pull.
Trying to distract myself from the agony. Anything to pull me from this dark pit of despair.
To remind myself I still lived.
My heart still beat. My lungs still pumped.
But other than that, I remained a shell. An empty shell.
Rett was trying to change that despite my resistance.
He was trying to break open that shell, bring life back into me.
The problem was, it was working.
However, I couldn’t have one without the other. I didn’t get to pick and choose what I let inside.
If I felt one thing, I felt it all.
Even what tore me down and ripped me apart.
I wasn’t ready.
I wasn’t ready.
I wasn’t…
Throwing my head back, I screamed at the top of my lungs.
My fingers kept ripping on my hair and I screamed and screamed and screamed, trying to release my rage. The awful ache.
I couldn’t stop.
Those tortured screams carried over the water. And soon one scream blended into the next as they bounced back to me, becoming amplified. Deafening.
Driving into my head. Into my heart. Piercing my very center like a spear.
I screamed until my voice was raw, until my throat felt like it was bleeding.
Every scream scraped my insides like a rusty spoon.
Until I had nothing left inside me.
Until I was safely back to being an empty shell once more.
Back to being numb on the inside.
The only way I could survive.
CHAPTER 12
Rett
I scrambled for my cell phone when it buzzed. I had it plugged in to charge overnight since I was done working for the day and currently had myself propped against the headboard while watching a movie and mindlessly running my fingers along Timber’s back. Knocked out cold and snoring, my sleeping companion was sprawled out next to me on the mattress, taking up most of the bed. Like normal.
Usually, I didn’t get texts or phone calls this late at night unless something major happened and a mass text went out to all of Eagle’s Landing residents. Texts received at this time of night could be a fire. A deer vs car collision. Coyote sightings. A black bear break-in. Or a life-threatening injury.
Basic gossip usually waited until the sun was shining. Emergencies did not.
Unplugging the phone, I swiped it from my nightstand and quickly slipped on the reading glasses I kept next to the bed. Once I closed up the store for the evening and took Timber for his last walk of the day, I removed my contacts.
While I could watch a movie comfortably without glasses, to see anything small, like something on my phone, I needed assistance.
Once I could read the message, my head jerked back.
I didn’t bother to fight the grin as I scanned it one more time to make sure I read it correctly the first time. Even though it came from an unknown number, I knew exactly who sent it.
And you better believe I would be adding that number to my contacts.
How’s your head?
Still attached, I wrote back with a snort loud enough to make Timber lift his head and give me the side-eye for interrupting his beauty sleep.
It had been three days since my cranium made contact with the corner of the texter’s table. Three days of silence. Three days of me reliving that kiss over and over in my mind.
Three days of wondering if Chase had been doing the same.
Three days of hoping the man would take me up on being a fuck buddy even though I hadn’t officially offered, only hinted.
And I had assumed Chase could take a hint.
Was that why he was texting now? To finally open up dialogue between us?
Like two humans and not one human and one unbearable grumpy grizzly?
My head injury was a good reminder that I should wait until Chase made the next move, not me.
It took another full minute but my phone finally vibrated again within my fingers. I guess that’s a positive.