If she couldn’t stop it, she might as well let sleep take the reality away for a while.
How can life go wrong so quickly?
* * * *
Trent stayed put, even when Sunny walked into the large open kitchen. Her brown hair was damp, and she wore another long shirt since she’d only had the one set of clothing, and those had had Spike’s blood on them.
She looked better than she had the night before, but sleep could do that. It got people out of the horrible moment and into the next, into the place where they had to do things, had to keep going.
Garrison brought over a bowl of oatmeal and fruit and, without asking, set it in front of a spot at the table.
His meaning was clear—eat.
Sunny took the indicated chair.
Connor had already left his bedroom, probably wanting to rise before she woke up. Sleeping beside a man was no doubt new for her, and the last thing they needed was for her to freak out when she found him still there. He worked early anyway, doing the rounds on a few patients he needed to check in with daily, and he’d planned to stop by the hospital to check in on Spike.
It left Trent and Garrison to the hard conversation.
“You look better,” Garrison said, as if trying to broach a topic slowly, to gauge a reaction.
Neither Trent nor Garrison had eaten breakfast—they weren’t morning eaters—but Sunny would do well with the calories. It also felt incredibly right to have someone to take care of…
She nodded as she swallowed a spoonful of the oatmeal. Afterward, she responded. “I think I’m feeling better. I’m sorry Kat got you involved,” she said, voice soft.
She wassorry? The girl clearly had no idea just how involved they already felt…
“You should be sorry,” Garrison said. At her startled look, he softened his voice. “You should have called us yourself.”
She shook her head. “It’s my problem. I can deal with it.”
Trent blew out a breath, again reminded of how little she understood. “We agreed to help you, and whether you like that fact or not right now, that makes you ours. Even if you weren’t, I’d like to think we’re at least friends. If we’d had something so horrible happen, wouldn’t you want us to call you?”
She paused, spoon hanging in the air as though she hadn’t ever considered that, as if the idea of Doms needinganythingwere strange to her.
Then again, he doubted her last relationship had been a two-way street.
Which brought him to the core of the conversation, one he really didn’t want to have for a million different reasons.
“I need you to tell us about your ex.”
“I don’t want to talk about him.”
“I know you don’t, and we let it slide before, but now? You know this could be him.”
She shook her head. “I left him five years ago, and he hasn’t come looking for me. If he hasn’t showed up yet, he won’t. He’s moved on.”
Garrison reached out and set his hand on hers. “I know it’s scary, but the only way you’re ever going to feel safe is if we make sure he isn’t here.”
She stared at where Garrison touched her, at the place where his hand covered hers. Would she panic at the closeness? Especially with how tense the conversation was?
She inhaled deeply, then spoke, words so soft they were hard to hear. “His name is Tanner Hoult. He’s from Utah.”
“Is that where you’re from?” Trent asked.
She nodded. “I met him in a club when I was eighteen and used a fake ID to get in. He was older and dangerous and amazing. Everything was okay at first.”
Trent nodded, having heard the same story countless times before. “It usually is. That’s how abusers get you, by drawing you in, by acting like the perfect catch until it’s too late to get away.”