Holding his gaze, I swallowed hard. “I know. I see you too.”
Patriot was a good man, even if he was a bad boy biker. I might have been tempted or excited by the fine male specimen entirely too close to my personal space in another life, but that wasn’t my reality.
My vision blurred a little and then cleared as I read the patches on his vest.
Royal Bastards MC. Road Captain.
“Fight it,” he whispered, knowing the deepest, most exposed parts I hid within were crying out for help I could never dare to ask or hope for in this world. Those parts wanted to pull me into despair and depression. It was so hard to resist.
Patriot was a fighter. A Marine. He didn’t understand the concept of surrender.
I closed my eyes and faced the cold, hard truth. I was nothing more than a discarded piece of trash. That was what Alexi called me. A used-up whore.
r /> He was right.
How did you find yourself again? How did you begin to recover and walk that long, desperate road of recovery?
When you’re lost to the darkness, what hope was left?
“Blackjack!” I roared, sitting up in bed as the word left my lips with a haunting desperation that proved I would never leave my past behind.
Soaked in sweat, I couldn’t resist a shiver as I ran a hand over my head and down my face, my fingers grazing the dark stubble on my chin. “Fuck,” I exhaled, hoping the racing beats of my heart would stop their frantic rhythm. My chest felt tight, and I had to drag in a couple of deep breaths before I felt the pressure ease.
A soft hand slid across the mattress and rested briefly on my arm. The gentle touch was instantly soothing and familiar, providing a welcome distraction from my chronic nightmares. They were less often since I met Naomi but didn’t completely go away.
Too much to hope for, I thought, gritting my teeth.
“You’re here, in the present,” Mimi whispered, “with me.”
My lungs dragged in another ragged breath, desperate to forget the memories that flooded the night and controlled the restless hours from sunset to sunrise. I didn’t want to be a slave to their vicious resurrection every time I shut my eyes. Lately, they resurfaced with a vengeance. Probably had something to do with the nights I spent alone when Mimi was in that coma.
Reaching out, I placed my other hand lightly over hers. “You’re my anchor,” I confessed. “My lighthouse in the storm. That tiny bit of light that shines in the dark and shows me where to go, that’s happy to bring me back from the unforgiving edge and preventing me from a dangerous crash.”
“A lighthouse? Is that why I’m your sunshine?”
“Yes,” I answered truthfully. “I’m no longer chained down in the pit of darkness.” I didn’t add that my darkness would always linger in the shadows and that my Reaper enjoyed the hunt, reaping souls in order to feed his ravenous hunger.
“Me either. You took me away from the cold unknown,” she agreed. “I’m safe. Warm. No longer alone.”
“Free,” I added, my voice catching. That was what mattered most. She understood what that kind of freedom meant. To not be locked down in your mind and a slave to the horrors of the past. Mimi was still dealing with the aftermath but she wasn’t a victim anymore.
“Yeah.”
I was hoping she would feel that same freedom and when she didn’t say it, I knew I would help her find her way with time.
We both remained still, barely able to see one another as the rising sun bleached the sky with shades of navy and blue.
“What’s Blackjack mean?”
Her tiny voice held only curiosity, but I still stiffened with the reminder.
“You don’t have to answer. I’ll understand.”
I knew she would. That wasn’t the problem. Saying what happened to my platoon overseas was not only painful but gut-wrenching. Didn’t think I could speak of it, even to the person who would sympathize the most.
“Not yet,” I choked out.
“Someday then. When you’re ready.”