Page 80 of After We Fall

I nod. “He says I can do two a day as long as my body can tolerate it, but that I might experience some fatigue.” I yawn on the last word, and Luke pulls me in a little tighter.

Today. Just today, I’ll lean on him. I’ll find my bearings with these treatments and won’t need him like this for the entire projected thirty appointments.

“Tuckered you out,” he murmurs.

Each time we stop and start at a floor, the elevator jerks a little. Luke tightens his hold, fortifying me to handle the bounces of our short journey to the bottom.

After I put on my sunglasses and get in the car, I’m greeted with a delicious aroma while I buckle up. “Did you eat Trivelli’s? Are you trying to torture me?”

Luke grins, stretches an arm into the back seat, then places a to-go bag in my lap. “I figured you didn’t have a good lunch in between your appointments.”

I rummage through the loot. Chips, a brownie, a bottled water, and an all-too-small sub sandwich. “What is this pathetic hoagie? You know I like to eat whole Rock Stars.”

Luke throws his head back and laughs. Twice now I’ve caused his beautiful smile to show, and twice now something warm has filled my chest. He downshifts to a chuckle, then studies my face. “The sunglasses look good on you.”

At his soft words, I touch a finger to the edge of the gift. Dark sunglasses, a sandwich, and two smiles. I might be able to combat those things, but the part where he’s tracking Marcus and making sure I’m safe hinders my ability to refuse this man’s attention. And I’m so tired today, I’m not even sure I want to try. Without the accusing punch I want to put in the statement, I say, “Where were you the last couple of days?”

“I went by the house a few times, but you were sleeping.” He scrubs his hands over his face. “But more so, I’ve been trying to shift things around at work so I can be in town. I farmed out some smaller jobs to a few of my staff. I’m also working with digital images to help me design a system for a client long-distance, meaning no travel. All of that just takes time.”

Oh. He’s making an effort, shifting things, so he can be here. With me. Just like he said.

“I’ll still have the occasion to leave town for jobs, but there are ways to cut back.” His eyes bore into mine. “So I’m cutting back. I’m not going anywhere, Penelope.”

I shake my head. How do I trust someone I know nothing about? “But I don’t know you, Luke. I don’t know anything about you.”

“Yeah, you do,” he says quietly, confidently.

Dark sunglasses. A sandwich. Two smiles. Protection for me.

Yeah. I do.

If he’s really not leaving, it’s going to thwart my plans to refuse his kindness.

As he pulls out of the parking lot, I turn to stare out my side window.

My game of Mad Libs is getting worse.

Penelope asked for _______ (noun: a kind of help). Luke and Penelope are now _______ (verb ending in “ing”).

20

“It’s infuriating,” I say to Meredith three days later.

“Infuriating? How can a neurofeedback treatment be infuriating?” she asks. “The way you describe it, it sounds like a good opportunity to park yourself in a chair and relax.”

At the desk in my bedroom, half-eaten lunch on the tray in front of me, I sigh. “Because I can’t do anything to make each session go better or worse. I can’t try harder. I am required to sit and let the computer do all the work.”

She covers her mouth with her fingers but can’t hide the giggle. Or her laughing eyes.

“I don’t understand why this is so funny,” I say. “Twice a day, I sit in Dr. Ridding’s office, red electrode cap covering my head, and I stare at a screen. Four rounds, ten minutes each, with a minute break in between.”

“Sitting still isn’t your thing.”

“That’s not even half of it.”

Dr. Ridding took the results of the QEEG, ran them through several database systems, and entered my protocol into the LORETA Z-score training, the process behind the neurofeedback treatment. After experiencing trauma, the brain creates new pathways to accommodate injuries. It’s a fabulous piece of our bodies’ design. However, my brain needs to be redirected to the correct paths to heal the injury.

“The bulk of the work feels uneventful. Infuriatingly uneventful. Four rounds where I stare at one point on a screen doing nothing. Nothing. My only job is to keep my mind blank.”