Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say because she pulled away from him, rolling over so she was now facing the wall.
He was trying here, certainly that should earn him some credit. And he got it, Naomi had gone through a lot in a very short space of time, and it had influenced the way she saw herself. It made her insecure, which was why she resisted dating him and held herself back from saying she loved him. He got it, he just didn’t know how to help her get past it. Climbing from the bed, he walked around it and squatted in front of her, placing a hand on her hip when she tried to roll over and turn her back on him again. “Naomi, I love you, that hasn’t changed,nothingis going to change that, but you need more help than I can give you when it comes to dealing with this. That doesn’t mean I'm going anywhere. It doesn’t mean I won't be right here beside you every step of the way.”
A long sigh escaped her lips and she seemed to sink further into the mattress. “Okay.” Tugging one of her hands out from the towel she was still wrapped in she touched her fingertips to the long, jagged scar on his left cheek. “How did you get the scar, Sam?”
He was about to tell her it was none of her business, but he caught himself before the words spilled out. If they were a couple, she deserved to hear the story, and she had opened up to him and told him her deepest darkest secrets, she should know his as well. “You know I was in the military, a Navy SEAL, when we came home after our first tour, things were rough for all of us. For one friend in particular. He really struggled. Posttraumatic stress disorder, I guess. He had nightmares, didn’t sleep, which compounded the problem. He refused help. Didn’t matter how many times I said something to him, or his wife begged him to admit he had a problem. It culminated when he lost it one night and attacked his wife. She called me while she was locked in the nursery with their four-month-old baby son and her husband was breaking down the door. I got there as he had his hands around his wife’s neck. I tried to talk him down and couldn’t. We fought, I didn’t want to hurt him, but he had a knife, he cut me, and I had no choice but to defend myself. He would have killed his wife and son if I didn’t stop him. I shot him.”
“He died?”
“No. He’s still alive, but he’s in a coma.”
He never talked about the scar or how he’d gotten it, leaving it up to people’s overactive imaginations to come up with their own scenarios. He didn’t mind the scar itself, it was what it represented, a constant reminder that even the best of intentions didn’t always have things working out the way you wanted. He had failed his best friend, who was still suffering the consequences as were his wife and son. Sam hadn’t been able to return to the military, the sense of failure over not helping his friend had been too much. He hadn’t felt like he’d be able to help anyone else, he hadn’t deserved his job. He had been a coward, he’d run away rather than deal with things, which he guessed was the real reason he never told anyone how he’d gotten the scar.
“I'm sorry, Sam, but I'm glad you were there. You saved that woman and her baby. You’re a hero.” She gave him a huge smile, then a huge yawn nearly split her face in two. “You’re my hero.”
He kissed her forehead, then climbed over her to get back into the bed, Naomi immediately plastered herself against his side. She was asleep before he could even close his eyes. It turned out to be a good thing after all that a dozen cops were watching his house because now he could sleep soundly with the woman he loved in his arms.
January 31st
8:28 A.M.
Curled up in a little ball on his sofa, Naomi was asleep again. She hadn’t had a restful night. Neither of them had.
Twice last night she had woken him as she suffered nightmares. The first time she had woken him screaming like the house was on fire. Given her history, maybe in her dreams it was. The second time she had woken him with the most pitiful little whimpers. The pitiful whimpers were the worst, listening to them was like being trapped in hell.
As he watched Naomi sleep, Sam knew he’d made the right decision. He’d been wrong not to allow her to see her family as much as she wanted to keep all of them safe. Naomi needed people that loved her around her right now. It had been selfish of him to want to keep her to himself.
On the couch, Naomi began to toss and turn in her sleep.
Another nightmare.
“Let me go, let me go, let me go,” she was muttering over and over again as he shook her.
“Naomi. Wake up.”
She didn’t.
The fear on her face terrified him. Sam hated that she was suffering, and he couldn’t stop it.
“Naomi. You're dreaming. Wake up.” He shook her harder this time, but she still didn’t wake.
Sam didn’t want to hurt her, but he wasn't going to watch her writhe in pain, trapped reliving the worst moments of her life any longer.
One quick slap to her cheek had her eyes popping open and she gasped in a huge breath. Disoriented, her eyes darted around the room, seeking something that would offer her reassurance.
“You're okay. It’s Sam. You're here in my house. You were just having another nightmare.” He perched on the edge of the couch beside her, still holding her shoulders.
Her gaze settled on him, her pale cheeks reddened, and she dropped her gaze to her hands. “Sorry.”
Hooking a thumb under her chin he lifted her face. “Sorry for having nightmares? That’s ridiculous. Do you have them often?”
“No, not anymore anyway, I did as a kid. It’s everything that’s happened the last few days, it brought everything back up.”
He took her hands, held them almost reverently, his thumbs brushing back and forth across her knuckles. “I'm really glad you told me.”
She looked deep into his eyes, and for a moment he was terrified that she was going to tell him that she regretted confessing the abuse she had been subjected to, but then she smiled. She was so beautiful when she smiled. “Me too. I feel lighter now.”
“I'm glad.”