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“But you did talk to a therapist, right?”
I looked down at my hands, picked on my cuticles.
I didn’t.
I thought I could just power through. Forget about it. Which did not go so well. At least not back home. Even though, since I was here, butting heads with Alex, it almost made me feel like I was my old self again.
Almost. Until my little breakdown.
Fuck.
“You need to deal with this, Fee, especially since with what you did to protect Jemma and me,” Cara insisted.
Her voice and eyes had something pleading, almost haunting.
And me? I did what I had done ever since it had happened. I retreated into my shell, retreated to the place where nobody could touch me.
“What did she do to protect you and Jemma?” Sophie asked.
“Yes,” a low, menacing voice said from right behind me. “What did she do to protect you?”
Alex.
He laid his hand on the back of my neck, squeezed softly. His touch and the warmth of his hand penetrated my shell and brought me back into the moment.
I’d been so caught up in my own mind, I hadn’t even realized the four tall and dangerous men had approached our table and had apparently listened in on our conversation.
Fuck.
I could feel my stomach tighten with a low level of nausea and something in my chest vibrating—was something wrong with my heart? V-fib, maybe?
“Cara?” Gabe said in a commanding voice.
Cara’s eyes flitted from Gabe to Alex to me.
I silently pleaded with her not to say anything. Just as I hadn’t said anything. I didn’t want anybody to know. I just wanted to forget.
Cara cocked her head sideways, furrowed her brows, and held my gaze with her watery eyes in a nonverbal apology.
Shit.
“She volunteered to go with them every time they picked Jemma or me,” Cara whispered, her voice cracking.
I held myself very still—focused on my fluttering heartbeat and blocked out everything else.
I would not go back to that dark place. I would not allow myself to feel what I felt. I would not allow myself to think about any of it. Because if I did, if I let myself, it would break me.
And there was no guarantee I would ever come back.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Awave of ice-cold fury washed through me after Cara’s confession.
After witnessing Fee’s PTSD in action yesterday, I was not surprised. But what had my blood rushing in my ears was the absolute lack of reaction from Fee.
She wasn’t moving.
Frozen. Petrified.
