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“I don’t know… like three years?”
Lachlan’s hard expression didn’t soften. “No wonder your body fell apart like it did.”
I shrugged. “It’s better than going through that every night.”
He shook my face with a gentle vibration. “You can fix that, Laurel. It’s called PTSD, and there are people who can help you.”
I scoffed. “Lachlan, he didn’t beat me. I didn’t enter a war zone. It’s not PTSD.”
“Trauma has no hierarchy,” he said seriously. “Look at me.” I did, reluctantly. “Your pain is not less significant because others have endured worse. Your pain is valid, and real, and, frankly, terrifying. And your trauma deserves to be treated.”
“It’s not trauma,” I insisted quietly. “It was a stupid mistake, and I feel gross about it. But it’s not trauma.”
“I’m the doctor,” he said with a sober look. “And I say it is. And when you tell me what happened—because you’re going to tell me—you will hear yourself say it, and you will know that I’m right.”
“I can’t tell you,” I said, starting to pull away.
“Yes, you can,” he countered firmly. His hands glided up my arms, behind his neck, and to my hands. He brought them around to tuck them between us, and then he kissed the palm of one of my hands. “I know it’s scary. But I’m going to make us some tea, and then we’re going to sit in the middle of that bed,” he said with a bounce of his eyes behind me, “and you’re going to tell me everything.”
I drew in a shaky breath. If I did, then that was it. He would never see me as the cute, fun Laurel he thought I was. The risk was enormous. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust Lachlan to be kind or compassionate with my answers. Actually, it was the fear that he would be. Because after I’d bared my soul to him and he’d comforted me, he’d never see me as a whole woman. He’d never be playful and order me around. Or, God forbid, he would pity me, and that was so much worse.
You’re kind of broken.
Lachlan got up to make us tea, and with shaking hands, I plugged my phone in. Stupid, stupid mistake. But hey, I could add it to the growing list. As soon as the screen lit up, I saw the three messages from Jason. Suddenly, the night terror felt like an omen. Reluctantly, I tapped his messages.
Jason: This is pathetic, Laur. Ignoring me and running off with some guy for days at a time. You’re a mother. You’re abandoning your own kid so you can fuck a stranger.
Jason: I didn’t want to do this, but Calla deserves better. You need to get away from this guy and his weird family. You know I have ways of digging up info. They’re both into illegal shit and if you don’t step away right fucking now, I’m going to release that info to the public.
Jason: I’m releasing it tomorrow unless you say otherwise. Check your email.
All the work I’d done to calm my breathing unraveled like a tattered sweater. I gulped down air, tapped on my email app, and brought up the email he’d sent me yesterday. I didn’t understand all the specific jargon, but it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that Lachlan’s brother solved cold cases on the side and had obtained files from closed investigations by illegal means. And Lachlan? The information Jason sent me about him didn’t look illegal to me, but it had something to do with his research.
Anger burned through me like a flamethrower to dry grass. It raged and grew, licking at my pain with searing heat. How fucking dare he? Controlling me was one thing. Making me feel like the lesser parent? Very Jason. But blackmail?
Fuck no.
I ran through all my options in my head, rapid fire. For one thing, Lachlan had just seen the level of crazy I had to offer, and while he might pity me now, eventually, it was going to be a burden on him. I was embarrassed, yes, but more than that, I was suddenly intensely worried about his career. Jason might be full of it, but it wouldn’t take much to taint Lachlan’s name with some well-placed emails and online gossiping.
It was pretty clear what I needed to do. I tapped out a message through a rideshare app, praying it would go through, and then when the driver responded affirmatively, I clicked off the screen.
When Lachlan came back in carrying tea, I had adrenaline pumping through my veins. At least it had replaced the helplessness, and I could sit there in the middle of the bed calmly. My hands didn’t shake when he handed me the mug with chamomile tea.
“Okay,” he said, ending the word with a sigh. “Drink that first.”
I nodded, taking a hesitant sip. It was super sweet, which I knew he had done just for me. I took a few scalding gulps before setting the mug down on the bedside table. Drawing in my courage, I said calmly, “Lach, I have to go.”
He rolled his eyes. “Not this again. Come on, Laurel. You can’t keep pushing me away when things get real, here.”
“They aren’t real,” I pointed out. “They’re fun. You’re fun. We’re great… but it’s not real.”
Lachlan scowled. “I see what you’re doing, and it’s not going to work.”
Work with me, Lachlan,I thought pleadingly.This is going to mess up your life way more than you realize.“I’m going to get dressed, and I’ve called a driver to come get me.” I glanced at my phone. “They should be here in about five minutes.” I stood, ignoring the way he stood with me like a shadow about to sew himself onto my foot. “So, I’ll be out in like three minutes, and it would mean a lot to me if you didn’t push me on this.”
I could see the conflicted war happening behind his eyes. He wanted to help me. But he also didn’t want to hurt me more. Good. I was banking on that. I went to the bathroom, stripped off the blue nightgown, and jammed my tight yoga pants, sports bra, and tank top over my shaking limbs. I left the bathroom as I was zipping up my hoodie, and then I slipped my phone into the front pocket.
Lachlan stood there shirtless in a pair of pajama pants, his sculpted arms folded and his expression brimming with silent fury. This was worse than a one-night stand where I tiptoed out in the morning. I’d broken down and been emotional with him, and rather than trusting him with my softest, most damaged pieces, I had sent him a different message: I don’t trust you. I don’t want you. I don’t want this.
