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“No offense, Liam, but this isn’t shit I wanna talk about with my uncle," I explained.
Liam looked at the two of us and smiled softly. “I figured as much. I mentioned the psychiatrist when we got you both back to Seattle. When you refused, I spoke to her about general needs and issues, and she recommended a therapist who specializes in PTSD, rape, and abductions. I’ve looked into her, and she is one of the best in her field.”
He pulled out a business card, reaching it toward us. “She’s expecting your call. Now, let me check you both out.”
I swallowed as I stood, pulling my shirt over my head. I knew I had nothing to worry about. Katie had seen the wounds. Hell, she’d been there when they’d happened. It still wrecked me every time I saw the guilt and self-condemnation play on her face when she saw them, though.
Liam examined me, again praising the plastic surgeon who’d been in the hospital when we came into the ER for stitching me up beautifully. When Katie asked about scarring, Liam told us there would always be some, but it would be minimal compared to what it would have been without the plastic surgeon’s skills.
Once Liam checked me over, he focused on Katie, testing her hip, leg, and shoulder mobility. She’d reinjured herself in the bathroom. She hadn’t said anything, but I’d noticed the difference in how she was moving over the last week. Liam warned her to take it easy and to keep her physical therapy appointments. Something I wasn’t sure she’d done this week because I’d avoided leaving the house or even talking about leaving the house.
Liam bid us farewell, reminding us that the therapist was expecting our call. He also said she had told him we had an open invitation to call whenever we were ready, no matter the time. We thanked him, and I shut the door behind him.
“So, do you want to eat first, or do you want to call the therapist first?” I asked.
Katie closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. Opening them, she said, “Let’s do both.”
I grinned and walked to the kitchen, letting Katie follow me so I could make sure the stairs were clear for her. I pulled lunch fixings out of the fridge, making us both something to eat beforesitting beside Katie at the table in the breakfast nook. I pulled Katie’s cell from my pocket and laid it before her. As much as I hated needing to do this, I hoped the therapist would help us address all the misplaced guilt we both tried so hard to hide from the other.
“You ready?” I asked.
Katie took a drink and stared into space for a minute before saying, “As I’ll ever be.”
Katie dialed the number Liam gave us for the therapist. My eyes nearly bugged out of my head when Katie said the receptionist requested that we meet the doctor the following day.
I’d thought we’d have a few days to come around to this, but this woman didn’t fuck around. The attack had taken place two weeks ago. I hadn’t spoken of the attack at all unless it was about my nightmares or that day with Katie on the bathroom floor. All those conversations had been difficult enough. I was certain this wouldn’t be anywhere near that easy.
This therapist was going to want specifics. She would want details, and I didn’t know if I could go there.
The following day, much to my chagrin, we piled in the car. The longer we drove, the more nervous I became. It’d gotten to the point where I was nearly chewing a hole in my cheek to keep myself from giving in to my restlessness.
When the car pulled to a stop, I looked up, and I saw the salty remnants of Katie’s pain on her face. She wasn’t any more prepared for this than I was. I reached for her hand, and she grabbed hold of mine, squeezing it tightly.
We sat staring out the windshield while the team stood guarding us. Neither Katie nor I spoke. I was scared to death of what we were about to face. I assumed Katie was as well, given the grip she had on my hand made the bones grate against one another. As strange as it might sound, this step toward healing seemed almost as bad as the things thrust upon us and left us where we were now.
I’m not sure what thoughts were running through my mind because they flew by so fast. They were such a jumble that I couldn’t distinguish what they were, but the rapidity of their passing was wearing on me. My chest heaved as I struggled to breathe.
“Jackson, I don’t think I can do this. As much as I want to and as much as I need to do this, I don’t think I can!” Katie cried softly.
She gripped my hand tightly. Sobs began tumbling out of her softly, only to gain momentum until she was doubled over in half. She pulled her hand from mine to wrap her arms around her midsection as she curled herself into a ball, her head resting on her knees. She looked like she was trying to hold herself together.
My elbows fell to my knees, and my head dropped into my hands as I listened to Katie fall apart. She’d not cried like this since we left the hospital. I didn’t know what to do for her other than get her out of the car and into the therapist’s office. I opened the SUV’s door and slid out.
“Katie, darlin’? The doctor is waiting for us. Are you ready?”
I slammed out of the therapist’s office, startling the team members assigned to our protection detail today. Yet another thing that fucking pissed me off. There were so many fucking people so far up our asses we couldn’t have a conversation some days without ten other people being privy to everything we said.
I don’t know how Katie became so strong. Her strength amazed and scared me. She shut shit up until it festered. Somehow, though, when it finally came out, she was ready to meet whatever the fuck was bothering her head-on.
“Jackson!” Katie yelled after me.
So much for talking to someone.
That was a damn waste of time. It sucked fucking ass. I’d been a nervous fucking wreck before we even left the house, and fifteen minutes into the therapy session, I bit the woman’s head off which made Katie cry. That pissed me off even more since the last thing I wanted was to upset Katie, but the motherfucking therapist asked me how I felt?
How the fuck did she think Katie and I felt?
Violated.
