AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I had slipped through to the walk-in wardrobe to pull on a pair of jeans and a thick, black turtle neck jumper. The jumper was way too thick for the sunny weather outside but I felt chilled and shaky. Once I had on a pair of socks, I picked up a pair of trainers, knowing I may need to venture out to the garden if my thoughts got too much again. Being outside seemed to help me sometimes, and I was going to need all of the help I could get that day.
As I crept back out to my room, I looked over at Dad and Trent, both of whom were still out cold. I glanced to my phone on the bedside cabinet, but opted to leave it there. I knew the guys would be trying to reach out, especially Dec, since I was supposed to be at physio with him in thirty minutes, but I just didn’t feel up to it – physio, or dealing with any of my guys.
I knew that likely made me a pretty terrible, selfish person, because I knew how much they all cared about me, and that they would be worried I had refused to have them there the night before. I cared for all of them too – very much, but in the chaos that was my thoughts and emotions right then, I just didn’t have any room left to try and deal with what was happening between the five of us, or how they would feel about me if they saw me as broken as I knew I was that morning. I just needed some space, and I really hoped they could understand that.
The house was silent as I made my way to the kitchen, so I was startled a little when I rounded the corner and found Luca sat at the island, working on his laptop just as he had been the first night I spoke with him.
“Morning,” I said, to announce my presence. Luca had pointed out before that I moved around the house too quietly, after I accidentally startled him a couple of times before. I knew it was just habit. When you lived with a very volatile drunk and addict, you learned to move around as if you didn’t exist.
“Blake,” he gasped as his head shot up and his eyes met mine. He was dressed in his customary, all black outfit, a gun holster over his t-shirt with his gun at his hip. I had thought when I first saw the gun it would make me uncomfortable. I had been shot, after all, but it didn’t. I had no recollection of the shooting. I doubted I had even been conscious when it happened, not after all that had come before that final moment. “How are you feeling this morning?” he asked after looking me over briefly.
“A l-little better. I’m really s-sorry you h-had to see that yesterday,” I told him, not able to make eye contact as my cheeks flushed with embarrassment.
“You don’t need to apologise. It’s nothing I haven’t seen, or even been through myself,” he replied. At hearing that, I looked up to him with confusion.
“You?”
“Yeah. I had really bad PTSD when I got out of the military. Loud noises would send me into panic attacks, and my night terrors were so violent I couldn’t sleep in the same bed as my wife for over a year.”
“What did you do?” I asked. “I mean you…you’re alright now, aren’t you?”
“It took me a long time and a ton of therapy sessions. I took some pills for a while too, but yeah, it got better eventually. My nightmares still creep in occasionally, but it’s rare,” he explained.
“I w-want that…to be better,” I sighed as I walked into the kitchen and flicked on the coffee maker. Trent always set it up before he went to bed at night, so it was ready to go each morning.
“You will, Blake,” Luca assured me and when I glanced over to him there was so much softness and understanding in his eyes. “You’re doing all of the right things. I know you have some meds and are seeing a psychiatrist. You have a strong, supportive family around you too. You’ll get there. You just have to give it time. I get that it’s frustrating, but dealing with PTSD is not easy and there are no quick fixes.”
“Yeah. I’m starting to realise that,” I agreed.
“I know you don’t know me that well, but you can talk to me if you’re struggling. In fact I need you to, if it’s just the two of us, like it was yesterday. I was sent on this job because I understand what you’re dealing with. Your dad specifically requested that you have a detail that had understanding and knowledge of anxiety and PTSD. That’s me – I’ve lived it all and I get it. You don’t need to worry about what I’ll think if we’re out together and you start to feel anxious. You can talk to me and tell me what you need. It will make things easier for both of us,” he explained.
“Okay,” I agreed. “Thank you f-for telling me…about your stuff, I mean. It…it helps.”
“No problem. If you want to ask me anything, go ahead. I’m good to talk about it,” he assured me and I smiled gratefully. It really did help to know that this huge, imposing figure before me had been where I was, and had found his way through it. It gave me hope that maybe I could too.
“Coffee?” I offered as I filled my own mug with the delicious smelling beverage.
“Please,” he nodded. “Your dad and Trent still asleep?”
“Yeah. I didn’t w-want to wake them. They were up with me most of the n-night.”
“Nightmares?” he asked and I nodded. I busied myself making the coffee, hoping he wouldn’t ask for any more details. I wasn’t ready to go into in depth discussion with him over my issues.
“We heading to the gym this morning?” he asked instead, but that wasn’t an easier topic to broach and I looked to him with apprehension as I placed a cup of coffee on the counter before him.
“Erm, no,” I replied. “I…I’m not feeling up to it.” It wasn’t a lie. I really was feeling way too shaky and weak to do a physio session, but it wasn’t the main reason I was crying off. That was because I didn’t have the strength to face Declan. “W-would you…I mean do you mind sending Declan a text f-for me? Just t-to let him know I won’t be in? Please?” I asked, hoping he didn’t call me out on my cowardice.
“Sure thing. You gonna grab some breakfast with that coffee?” he asked. The way he was staring me down just affirmed my notion that he was a very protective father to those two beautiful little girls he had.
“I’m n-not really…”
“You know,” he cut me off. “Maybe it would be better if you sent a text to Declan after all.”
“That’s blackmail,” I accused as I glared at him. When he just held his stare down, clearly not going to give in, I finally relented. “Fine,” I huffed as I put down my coffee and stomped to the fridge. Inside I found a large bowl of fruit salad, which Trent prepared often as a snack for us all. Not feeling up to anything more, I pulled it out and scooped a spoonful into a smaller bowl, then cleared everything away and stomped over to a seat with my mug and breakfast.
“Satisfied?” I asked as I looked to Luca with raised eyebrows.
“It’s a start,” he replied with a small nod and the hint of a grin.
