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“I am and I’m not going to let you change the subject.”
Sighing, I know he means well, which is why I admit, “I’m in love with Savannah. She’s a clever, beautiful woman who makes me happy… I haven’t had a nightmare while she’s been with me, and I’m hoping that she’s keeping them at bay, or I’m too exhausted to remember. I don’t know which, but I’m still cautious that one could appear any night, so although it’s at the back of my mind, I’m not letting it ruin a good thing with Savannah.”
“Wow. Well, that kinda covers everything.”
I chuckle at the shell-shocked look on Ryder’s face. “Figured I’d cover it all to save a million questions.”
“It did that.” He hesitates. “If you need to talk, I’m here. You know that, right?”
“I know.” I take Ryder’s outstretched hand, and let him haul me up from the floor. “Ryder,” I hesitate, “thanks. For everything.”
Our eyes meet as he nods his head in response, before heading back out his front door.
I drag my hands through my hair and follow him.
We need to get at least half of their belongings inside before Dahlia gets back, otherwise, she’ll know we’ve sat around gossiping like the women at the
local church.
Savannah
I was so excited to be invited out with Dahlia and her sister-in-law, Callie, for a day of shopping for her new home. As much as I love Jace and spending time with him, it’s good to be out with girls for a change. But I hate to say, after all, that I miss him and can’t wait to see him when we get back after lunch.
We’ve gotten into a routine, Jace and I, which is good. I love nothing more than going off doing my own thing, only to come back to Jace’s house—home.
It feels like we’ve been together for a long time, and even though he says his nightmares have stayed away, I’m not blinded by the fact he’ll eventually have one. I wish I had every confidence that they were gone for good, but in a way, it’s like living with a ticking time bomb, and it worries me. Jace isn’t aware of my constant worry because the last thing I want is for him to start worrying more than I think he already is.
One day at a time.
He loves me and I love him, so we can beat it. I don’t expect his PTSD to just up and disappear, but I know, with support, that the symptoms can fade. Then they can be brought on again by stress, or a situation that reminds him of what started his symptoms to begin with.
He has my support, now all I have to do is try and persuade him to see someone I’ve found and researched on the Internet. He’s a doctor whose brother killed himself because he had no help and had a severe case of PTSD. Now he helps others so their families don’t have to suffer the way his has.
I’ve also asked my uncle if he knows anything about him, and he said he’s one of the good guys.
All I need to do is broach the subject with Jace, but as of yet, there hasn’t been an opportunity. I’m going to have to bring it up, but will wait until he’s gotten over the charity game because his mind is full at the moment and I certainly don’t want to add to it.
A giggle breaks into my wandering mind, and I tune back into the conversation that Callie and Dahlia are involved in, or more like a discussion about who has the biggest boobs, which I’ll win.
Smiling, I clear my throat, and shoving my chest out, laugh when Callie chokes on the wine she’d just had a drink of.
Dahlia points. “Savannah wins that one.” She chuckles.
Lunch out with these two is turning into a hilarious discussion about everything—their husbands, sex, children, and dare I mention it, childbirth.
If anyone listened to Dahlia’s tale about childbirth, I think they’d use her as protection because it sounds ten times worse than I ever imagined. And it’s difficult to decide what’s fact or fiction, but whatever it is, her story is hilarious.
Callie just keeps rolling her eyes, letting it roll over her, probably not believing a word of it.
“Reece and I are thinking about having a baby,” Callie confides, “which is why we’re both being subjected to Dahlia’s over exaggerated explanation.” She rolls her eyes again, and laughs. “She has Faith, and I want one.”
I burst into a fit of giggles. “I’m sorry but that sounded so…” I wave my arms around.
“Childish is the word you’re looking for,” Dahlia adds, grinning. “I think we need to change this conversation to how babies get made.” She smirks.
We pause while the food is placed in front of us. The café that Dahlia has brought us to serves Italian food, and the fettuccini sitting in front of me with a chicken and mushroom sauce is mouthwatering. The half drained glass of crisp, white wine that is sitting beside it might be responsible for the giggles that are happening around our table, or at least from Callie and me. Dahlia is still breastfeeding Faith, so she’s the designated driver for today, which is why she’s drinking water.
“Savannah,” Dahlia says abruptly.
