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She doesn’t reply. She presses her small hands on my cheeks, squishing my mouth into fish lips, and giggles.
Olivia smiles, light dancing in her eyes. “Hi, Troy. We came to pick up a special dessert. I was going to call you. We’re hoping you can come over for dinner tonight. You haven’t been over in a few weeks.”
More like three.Shit.How did that happen?
“I can’t, unfortunately. I’m helping a friend with her renovations. Rain check, Aramis?” I blow a raspberry on Nova’s cheek, and she giggles once more.
I glance at Olivia and catch the crestfallen expression on her face. The expression is just as quickly replaced with a grin, her eyes bright. “Of course, Athos.”
I’m only half listening, my thoughts replaying my conversation with Zara.
My thoughts focused on how I can’t wait to have Jess in my arms again.
How I can’t wait to kiss her.
49
JESSICA
May, Present Day
Maple Ridge
I lieon my stomach in the backyard. It’s been several hours since Kellan dropped me off at Picnic & Treats. Several hours since I admitted to him I spent five years in prison for a crime I didn’t commit.
I compose the image on my iPhone screen, missing the flexibility I had with my DSLR camera when it came to depth of field and exposure. The last rays of sunlight strike the daffodils from behind, highlighting the soft white and yellow petals, and a rush of excitement throbs through my veins.
My husband…mylatehusband’s voice screams in my head, “You don’t have time for crap like that.” I inadvertently flinch, bracing for the painful punch to the stomach. The kick to my side.
He’s dead. He can’t hurt me anymore. He’s gone.
I tighten my hold on the phone, my hands clammy from the memory, and I close my eyes against the pain.Dammit.Why can’t I enjoy doing something I once loved without the ugliness of my past haunting me?
He’s dead. He can’t hurt me anymore. He’s gone.
Robyn warned me healing from complex PTSD won’t be easy. She also warned me the painful memories will never go away, but over time, they won’t be as painful.
Healing won’t be easy, but it is possible.
I study the daffodils on the screen. They’re beautiful, the symbol of hope and new beginnings.
Bailey bounds past me, a blur of golden hair in my periphery minus her red vest. It’s her playtime, which means she gets to be a regular puppy, exploring the backyard and probably chasing another bug.
She barks at whatever it is.
“What’re you doing?”
A startled shriek bursts from my lungs, taking my heart with it. I twist around.
My butt parks on the patchy grass, my breath and heartbeat racing. Troy’s standing on the other side of the closed gate, wearing jeans and a heather-gray T-shirt, and I take a second to appreciate how the cotton skims his taut chest muscles.
He opens the gate, and he and Butterscotch enter through it. Bailey immediately goes to play with Butterscotch on the grass.
Troy comes over to where I’m sitting and crouches next to me. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you. Thought you’d heard me. I wasn’t exactly being stealth.”
I flash him an embarrassed smile. “I have a bad habit of slipping into the zone when I’m taking photos.”
“Can I see?” Troy points to my phone. “The photos you’ve taken so far?” The eagerness in his eyes shines back at me, so naked, so raw. Or maybe I’m the one who feels exposed. It’s been forever since I’ve shared my photos with anyone. Shared my passion with someone who won’t use it to demean me.
