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“It’ll be okay. Knowledge is power, and because she is a uniquely beautiful woman, she has lots of people around her for support.”
He glanced at her and caught her nod. He held her hand for the rest of the drive.
He pulled into the Denny’s parking lot in Milltown, and she laughed. “It’s been ages since I’ve been to a Denny’s!”
This particular Denny’s was attached to a small hotel on the far side of Milltown. It should have been a three-star Michelin restaurant attached to a five-star luxury hotel from the way he was feeling sitting across from her, but that’s how he always felt when he was with her. It didn’t matter where they were, she brought all the stars.
She had the most incredible eyes, indigo blue with white-blue striations, like lightning across a midnight sky. She was beautiful. He’d seen beautiful women before, he’d had beautiful women before, but none had affected him like this.
He wanted to kiss the freckles on her face, search out the others she must have on her body, count them, catalogue them, trace them with his tongue.
He wanted to make that slightly downturned mouth of hers smile and laugh and gasp.
He wanted to spear his fingers through her curls and cup her head in his big hands, cradle her curvy body in his lap, make her happy, make her moan, keep her safe.
She’d been hurt, deeply. It showed in the wariness of her gaze, how easily she startled, and the way she held herself slightly apart.
He was a natural healer. He did not kid himself that he could fix whatever had hurt her, but he was drawn to wounded birds, always had been, just never like this.
“Does Rhys know?”
Her question brought him back to the present. Her eyes were red-rimmed, and the tip of her nose was pink. He noted that she paled when she got upset and her sweet freckles stuck out in stark relief. He wanted to soothe her, ease her pain, bring the color back to her face. With the most obvious option off the table, especially off the Denny’s table, he opted to let her get it all out.
“He does. I believe he told Bex about his concerns weeks ago, but she could not believe him.”
“It’s unbelievable.” She shook her head and gazed into her lap.
“Is it?”
Her head shot up to look at him. “What do you mean? Isn’t it?”
His eyes wandered over her beloved face, reading her confusion and her anger, “For me, having Amy in my life, I had a nearly front row seat to BPD. I think I understand it well. Perhaps if you learned more about the symptoms, you might recognize it in your sister.”
They spent the next hour discussing the ins and outs of BPD while she shoveled an unholy number of pancakes into her sweet mouth. He smiled on the inside to see her gaining back her energy and her drive.
She swiped her napkin across her mouth. All her lipstick was gone, her mascara had smeared under her eyes, and her curly hair had grown bigger and bigger around the floral band she wore with every passing minute. He’d never seen anything more beautiful in his life.
“Mara said it comes from family of origin and other issues in her past. Is that correct?”
He nodded. “A genetic predisposition, a history of childhood abuse or neglect, having a parent with mental health issues or addiction are typical in the history of a person who has BPD.”
“My mother is not a nice person.”
He was positive that was an understatement. He had heard about Willa’s mother from Rhys, and even Zale on occasion, although Zale didn’t seem to be overly alarmed. Zale had known her for a long time and seemed to accept that she was the way she was.
“You’ve told me a bit about her. She was pretty awful to you growing up.”
“I don’t have BPD.”
“I know.”
“Okay,” she paused, then slapped her hand over her forehead. “Oh, God, that was a terrible thing to say! I didn’t want you to think I had it, I wanted to make sure you knew I didn’t. What does that say about how I feel about Mara having it?”
He leaned his forearms on the table, his face serious and sincere. “It means you’ve got an understanding of how painful and debilitating it is and that you can be a better support person for your sister.”
She huffed out a short, bitter laugh. “You see only the good in people.”
“On the contrary, I see more than most people, which makes it hard for me to make connections. Selfishness and animosity are rampant out there.” He noted the pained look on her face. “You don’t have a selfish bone in your body.”
