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I glance at Papa, who’s watching Thea with that helpless fatherly look he gave Ainsley when we were young and he had no fucking idea how to help her.
“You want me to take your parents?” Tristan questions as he parks in front of the building.
“No.” I unbuckle her. “Let’s settle you guys in, and I’ll drive them later.”
Tristan helps me with Thea. My parents join us, and we go up to my place. My parents head to the guest room, where I have some spare clothes for my family. The three of us go to my room.
“She needs some clothes.” I point toward my drawers. “Please hand me a pair of sweats and a T-shirt. Let’s try to keep her warm. Did she drink tonight?”
Tristan shakes his head. “Not a drop, Matt. She was okay when she climbed into that car, I swear.” He stares at Thea. “Well, anxious, but she’s been like that all night.”
I take off my jacket, unbutton her polo, and she runs to the corner. “Don’t touch me. Please don’t touch me.” She cries louder. “I’m not her anymore. You can’t use me.” Thea folds in half and pukes all over the floor.
Tristan and I look at each other, not knowing what to do.Fuck.
“Butterfly, calm down. You need to get out of those clothes.”
“No. Don’t touch me.” She dry-heaves. “He can’t make me do it again. Never again.”
Papa enters the room, approaching her cautiously like one would a wild animal. “Sweetheart, can we help you? Your clothes are soaking wet and you’re cold.”
She hugs herself and shakes violently. “Don’t touch me.”She starts crying again. “I’m not her. She’s gone.”
Papa takes a few steps back, glancing at me and says, “Call Pria. She can help.”
Pria? No, I can call my sister. She’d do anything for me. “Ainsley?”
Dad shakes his head. “Call Pria. It’s late, and Ainsley can’t be out late. Gracie needs her.”
Matt: I need your wife, please.
Jacob: What, why?
Matt: Thea is having a bad episode—nervous breakdown. Papa thinks she can help.
Jacob: I’ll take the bike. See you in a few.
“Hey, Papa,” Pria greets Papa, who leans against the doorframe watching Thea.
For the past twenty minutes, she’s been dry heaving, crying, and mumbling nonsense. If we get closer, she freaks out, begging us not to touch her.
“It’s a little late for house calls, isn’t it?” Pria peeks through the door and retreats, giving me a frown. “That’s Thea, the bartender of Silver Moon.”
“Thank you, I knew she looked familiar.” I fake a smirk.
She squeezes my arm. “I’m here to help, no need to be sarcastic.”
She glances at her again and asks, “Is she drunk?”
“You know?” I’m astonished she’s aware of thesecret.
She shrugs. “I guessed. One time she was staring at a shot of vodka,” she explains. “I asked why, and she answered, ‘To build strength.’ Pretty self-explanatory.”
“She’s not drunk.” Papa closes his eyes. “Someone or something triggered her memories, and my guess is that’s why she developed those addictions at a young age. To protect herself.”
My father wipes the corner of his eye. “She needs to feel safe, Pria. A man can’t be near her right now. But a friend can. Would you mind helping her?”
“I’m happy to do it, Papa.” Pria enters the room, shutting the door behind her.
