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“So, I called in a few favors,” he muttered, looking away and taking another sip of coffee. Then his eyes lifted to me, standing there with my lips pursed, and he reached up a well-toned arm to pluck my coffee from my hand. He set both mugs down on the beat-up, wooden coffee table, and then without warning, he tackled me to the couch.
I screeched, wiggling under his arms. “Lachlan!”
“Shut up. We figured out what you’ve been up to all week, but now it’s time to pay the piper.”
“What does that expression even mean?” I grumbled.
Lachlan squished the air from my lungs. “Shush. Anyway, it’s time for you to woman up. You’re going to tell me about your night terrors. And I’m going to—stop,” he added as I started to protest. “I’m going to listen, and you’re going to get out every word so you can hear for yourself why it’s traumatic. And then, because I’m your doctor, too, we’re going to come up with a POC.”
“What’s a POC?” I asked with dread slithering through me.
“Plan of Care,” he said, planting a kiss on my cheek. “Out with it. Tell me what you see when you dream this thing.”
I told him, haltingly at first, and then a little more confidently as I explained how it had been weeks since I’d seen Jason at all when the memory had happened. I explained how he’d shown up in our old apartment and had seemed like he wanted to make things work. I explained how he’d given me a “chance” to prove that I wanted him badly enough.
I buried my face in the blankets as I told him that I’d relented and undressed just so he could sit there and laugh at me. Lachlan had to tilt his ear close to my jaw as I told the last part from the safety of the fabric.
When I’d finished, only the sound of the rain on my windows and the slow, steady rhythm of his breathing broke the silence. Finally, he lifted himself upright, taking me with him, and he peeled away the blanket. I turned to face him, but my eyes stayed glued to his bare chest and the beautiful dipping planes of his torso.
With what sounded like some difficulty, Lachlan asked, “And now that you’ve told me that, how do you feel?”
“Embarrassed,” I admitted. Our legs were bent on the couch in mirrored poses, and I stared at the breathable fabric of his joggers. “It’s really… it’s gross. The fact that I had so little respect for myself as a woman that I would do that is really shameful. I hate thinking about it. But my brain makes me remember it over and over again.”
He drew in a long breath through his nose. I glanced up at him, and nearly flinched at the furious expression that had pulled his handsome features taut. A muscle in his jaw ticked, but with gentle hands, he took both of mine in his. “I don’t want to overwhelm you, but you need to understand what that was. And I wouldn’t use the term lightly, but when one person intentionally exerts power over another person in order to hurt them—”
I held up my hand, my eyes going wide. “Stop. Lachlan, it is not that serious.”
“Yes, it is,” he insisted, and his strong fingers encased mine. “Abuse is when one person exerts power and pain over another personknowingit will harm them. Do you disagree with that definition?”
I clenched my teeth hard.
“And if you don’t disagree, then do you agree that what I described is exactly what he did to you?” Lachlan pushed on.
I drew air into my lungs, disbelief clouding my thoughts. “Maybe.”
“Not maybe. It’s literally the definition,” he insisted.
I rolled my lips between my teeth, looking down again.
“Your mind and your heart feel that gray area just as strongly as if it were a black and white issue,” he said softly. “And you don’t want to admit it or face it, so you force it down. But it’s going to keep screaming to be heard. It’s going to make you see it until you acknowledge it.”
I put a hand over my forehead. “It was my fault, though.”
“Stop,” he yanked my hand down and still holding it, used both our hands to force my chin up so I looked straight into his earnest gaze. “You know that’s bullshit. He manipulated and used you, and whatever his issues, that’s unforgivable.”
It was hard to disagree. When everything was laid out bare for me to really examine, especially with Lachlan’s perspective, it seemed a lot more black and white than gray.
“Putting aside the fact that I could happily give that prick a lobotomy with a dull screwdriver,” Lachlan muttered through his teeth, “let’s focus on your POC. You ready for it?”
I nodded, letting my thumb drift over the ridges of his knuckles. “Lay it on me.”
“Trust me,” he said simply.
I felt my eyebrows twitch up a fraction. “Trust you. That’s the plan?”
“That’s the plan,” Lachlan repeated. “Let me hold you together while you heal. Trust me with your emotional wounds the same way you trusted me with your body.” His eyes skimmed over me appreciatively. “You trusted me when I had to put Steri-Strips on your forehead. And that reallywasyour fault.”
I let loose a rueful chuckle. “Uh, yeah. True.”
