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President Barratt laughed again and linked her arm through Chris’s. “Oh, I like you, Agent Roberts. Flattery will get you far.”
Chris grinned and they fell into a comfortable silence for a moment before the president spoke again.
“He is doing alright, isn’t he? Since coming out of the hospital?”
Chris glanced at her and nodded. “He’s doing well, ma’am. Just taking it easy, really.”
“Good,” she replied, patting his arm. “That’s good.”
* * * *
Powerful hands held him down. He should have been struggling, but for some reason he was paralyzed. The floor under him should have been sand, but it felt more like carpet. He kept waking up with marks on his body and no idea how they got there—bruises, teeth marks, cuts.
But he had to know how they got there, right? That boot in his rib was from a Talib, wasn’t it? The strong fingers that grasped his chin so tightly that it made him cry out belonged to a Talib. The face that came close, that breathed harshly in his ear…
God, but Jamie would have preferred water boarding.
Somebody grabbed his hair and pulled. A Talib? Or somebody else?
He didn’t know. His brain couldn’t separate one memory from the other. Was his mind making things up, filling the space left by the drugs, or was this real? Was he mixing up his experiences again?
He just…couldn’t tell.
Pinned down, a boot, a fist, a knee in his gut, a face that was too close, breath on his skin that made his flesh crawl and bile rise in his throat, a kiss…
Jamie woke with a strangled cry, his hands already reaching for Boomer, whose nose was buried in the crook of his neck. He sat up, trying to fight the urge to vomit as he hugged the warm mass of dog, but he lost that battle and had to shove away Boomer to get up and run into the bathroom, falling onto his knees by the toilet and emptying the entire contents of his stomach. It left his throat raw and his eyes streaming, chest heaving as he gasped for air.
He’d had that nightmare only a handful of times over the last couple of months, but it always had the same effect on him. A jumble of memories that he didn’t even know were real, not for certain. His brain had been too addled, a blur of alcohol and a drug-induced haze of a time that he barely remembered. He only knew for sure the way it made him feel now—disgusted to the point of vomiting. Jamie wanted to scratch off his skin, he felt so unclean.
He pulled himself up from the cold floor and washed his face, letting the water dry naturally on his skin instead of using a towel. His phone beeped just as he got back into bed, pulling Boomer close again.
Chris: Are you okay?
Jamie took a deep breath, his hands shaking as he texted back.
Jamie: Honestly, no.
Less than five seconds later, he heard Chris’s door open and click shut, then his own door handle turned and Chris crept in, quietly closing it behind him.
“Chris,” Jamie whispered desperately. “You can’t be here…”
Chris took no notice, throwing back the covers and climbing into the bed beside him. “I don’t care,” Chris whispered back, his face serious. “If you’re not okay, I’m not going to just leave you.”
Jamie swallowed hard, feeling tears prickle at his eyes. He really needed Chris right now, needed to bury his nose into the crook of Chris’s neck and breathe in his scent, needed to feel those arms around him because nothing could touch Jamie when he was enveloped in Chris’s embrace.
Surging forward, Jamie wrapped his arms around Chris’s waist, almost tackling him into the pillows, fists bunching into Chris’s T-shirt.
“Shh, it’s okay,” Chris murmured into his hair, pulling Jamie close. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.”
Jamie let himself cry, his face buried into Chris’s chest. His tears soaked the front of the soft gray T-shirt, the fabric muffling the sobs that erupted from his chest as Chris just held him until they subsided, pressing soft kisses against Jamie’s forehead and slowly running fingers through his hair.
It took at least twenty minutes to get it out of his system, before he finally stopped shaking, before the salt tears dried up and his breathing slowed. Chris kissed his forehead again and gently scratched his fingernails across Jamie’s scalp, making his eyes flutter closed.
“Chris?” he murmured, feeling exhausted.
“Yeah?”
“I definitely adore you more than just a little bit.”
