Claiming a seat, she watched as Mark passed off their luggage to go in the belly and climbed the stairs. “We’re good to go,” he said to the pilot up front before coming back to join her.
Jenna saw him glance at the seats around her and choose the one across from her after a too-long look at the one beside her. He didn’t want to crowd her, and she appreciated the impulse, but after this morning, she wanted to be closer to him. After takeoff, she would fix it.
One of the many benefits of flying in a private plane was the zero waiting. Within minutes of the cabin door being closed, the plane was making its way back to the runway and they were taking off. Jenna pulled the window shade. No doubt the sunrise over the Wyoming landscape was gorgeous, but she didn’t want to take a chance on anything setting off a panic attack.
As soon as they were safely in the air, she unbuckled herself and squashed the nerves in her stomach. “Can I sit with you?”
Mark looked up from his phone and gave her a nod. “Always. You never need to ask.”
She sat on the seat sideways, curling up so she could look at him. He was never going to be traditionally handsome—his face was too hard, too much of a warrior for that. Strong chin, carved jaw—both covered by a carefully trimmed beard. His beard matched the thick brown hair her fingers itched to run through.
He made her feel safe.
The very fact that she was sitting there thinking about running her fingers through his hair rather than doing some breathing exercise to keep herself together was testament to that. Every other time she’d been on this plane, panic had been scratching at her the whole time.
Slowly, Mark reached out and took her hand. He rubbed his thumb over the backs of her fingers. “Can I ask you something?”
“Yes.” She was surprised at how willing she was to give that answer.
He hesitated, and she sensed he was searching for the right words. “I know things are difficult for you with your agoraphobia, and I want to help you however I can. Can you tell me specific triggers? I’ll do my best to keep you away from those things.”
Jenna’s breath stilled in her chest. Talking about it was terrifying, but for once, she actually wanted to. Mark had already seen her at her worst. If he wanted to help her, she should let him.
“I don’t like to be outside,” she said.
Mark laughed softly. Notather, but simply a reaction. “I got that part.”
She looked down at his hand cradling hers. “I’m fine in buildings and vehicles, clearly. Even windows don’t bother me. But being outside or anywhere close to it…it sends me into a state of panic. Immediately and usually without recourse.”
Lyra the flight attendant was headed toward them, but Mark waved her off. Again, his thumb smoothed over Jenna’s skin, a careful, comforting gesture. “Can you give me specifics about why? I know about your captivity, but this feels like more than that.”
She pulled her hand away and rolled up the leg of her pants before she took his again, guiding it to the skin of her ankle and the mottled scar there. “You feel that?”
He looked straight at her. “What is that?”
“It’s…” She swallowed, shuddering, taking a moment to try to get herself under control.
“You know what?” he said. “Never mind. You’ve got enough on your plate without—”
“No,” she cut him off. “You should know. Plus, my therapists all say it’s good for me to talk about it if I can.”
“Okay.” His jaw was tight. He was preparing himself.
“When I was in captivity, whenever I didn’t give Adil Garrison the results he wanted fast enough, he…”
She had to take a breath, chills running over her skin as she remembered the cold and the dark. The sounds. Garrison and his men had dragged her from the lab, through the wilderness, with only the headlights of the car to provide any light.
“Garrison would have his men take me to the middle of nowhere in the wilderness and tie me to a tree overnight. It was a joke to him. They used to make bets on whether I would be alive when they came back for me.”
Mark’s curse was low and foul. “Jenna—”
“I couldn’t move. Couldn’t get away. That scar on my ankle is from trying to get out of my restraints one night when I could hear wolves. I thought I was going to die.”
Mark’s face went slack with shock. “Jesus.”
“Scratching myself bloody probably put me in more danger than if I’d just stayed still.”
“How many times?” His jaw was tight. “How many times did Garrison do that to you?”