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"That was dumb," she mutters, gaze fixed off into my apartment.
"Was it?"
She looks at me, brow furrowed. "I had a panic attack running away from Micah. Micah! The sweetest person I know." Her lips purse. "He's big, but still, it's Micah."
"Panic attacks aren't really logical." I've seen enough of them to know. The littlest thing can set them off, and sometimes, it takes too long to drag a person back.
Her fist clenches on her thigh. "Maybe. But this isn't me. I'm not this girl. I don't want to be."
"Who did you used to be?" I don't know any other version of Bree. And I desperately want to.
"I was the handle any situation person. Nothing phased me. Nothing was too hard. I just put my head down and powered through."
"Sort of like someone who's never been through anything?" I wait for my words to register, for her shoulders to drop. "Like you didn't realize you were vulnerable? You have to stop being so hard on yourself," I say gently. "Trauma changes a person, sometimes in ways that are permanent. But that doesn't make you weak."
She sighs. "It feels weak. Like I shouldn't be falling apart over things that used to be easy."
I shake my head. "You're not falling apart. You're working through pain that takes time to heal. There will be good days and bad, but you'll come out the other side."
"You think so?" she asks, a glimmer of hope in her voice.
"I know so," I say firmly. I can't imagine it otherwise. I won't imagine otherwise. "It won't happen overnight. Recovery is a process. But you've already taken the first steps."
She considers this quietly for a moment. "You're right. I'm not curled up under the covers anymore. I spent a lot of time in bed, after..." Her voice trails off. The words she didn't say ‘after he tried to kill me' hover like a dark mist between us.
I swallow down the rage I feel, imagining what he did to her. It’s the same rage I feel every time I think about him touching her. Not the place, not the time. "Exactly. Just focus on moving forward, one day at a time. Don't get hung up on who you were or who you think you should be. Just be who you are now and hang on. You're forever changed, Bree. You lived through something horrible. You will never be who you used to be. But that doesn't mean that the new Bree is a downgrade."
A small smile tugs at her lips. “Downgrade? You're spending too much time with Declan. You're sounding all techie." Her smile falls. "You make it seem so simple."
"Healing is never simple," I admit. "But it does get easier, bit by bit."
She studies me with a small frown. "You sound like you're speaking from experience."
Too much experience. "I haven't had someone try to kill me, but there's been a lot of...death in my life. It sometimes feels like each one chipped away at me. Like they remade me into someone else."
I'm lost in her blue eyes and her flushed cheeks. She has me trapped. It wouldn't matter if the building was coming down around us. If she's sitting here, looking at me like that, I'm not moving.
A yelp from the hallway, and a banging on my door, shatters the moment. "I'm under attack. Help! I need reinforcements."
"It's Maverick," I lean in to whisper in Bree's ear. "What do we do? Kill him, or help him?"
Bree turns her lips a breath away from mine. "Help him." She scrambles off my lap and moves to the door, looking back at me with a wild grin. The panic of the last fifteen minutes is nowhere in sight.
She swings the door open, and Maverick tumbles in. "Lock it, lock it!"
Laughing, Bree locks it, then turns to study the panting man on the floor. I do too, because..." Why the fuck are you wearing underwear on your head?"
"I didn't have a full face mask," he says, like it should be obvious. Hands resting on his chest, NERF gun clutched between them, he sucks in deep breaths.
"I can't tell if you're a genius, or an idiot," Bree says, not trying to hide her laughter. I get it. The man looks ridiculous. He's in all black, with a pair of boxer briefs pulled down over his face. "How can you see anything?"
He lets go of his gun and pulls apart the flap, revealing his nose and mouth. His lips part with his exhale. "I cut eye holes."
I crawl a little closer, and peek down at him. Yep, there are holes, and beneath that, a bright yellow pair of goggles.
Bree slides down the door, snorting with laughter. "Oh my god. You guys are so weird."
Maverick lets the flap fall closed, and wiggles a finger in her direction. "Weird, maybe. Crazy smart? Yes. Way too competitive? Yes. It makes grown men do dumb shit...but I managed to sneak up on Kade and Becca. Nailed her right in the ass."
