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Will she be willing to hear it?

I won’t blame her if she tells me to go to hell.

Still, I’ve got to try. I’ve got to fight for her. I’ve got to show her I’ve changed, and I’m willing to do whatever it takes to fix our past, to get my little anchor back. I want to feel her hand holding mine so deep in my soul…

Will she forgive me?

I’ve been damn lucky so far on this journey. Is it possible to believe I could be that lucky again? Only one way to find out, and I’ve already packed my bags.

This is my last job for Patton, checking the Office Revolution property located just outside of Nashville. His tenants from Madagascar just cleared out, and our job is to assess how soon we can get this place back on the market.

I shove the keys in my pocket and head for the front door, reviewing his text. The usual drill. Check for damages, make sure nothing was left behind. Check the storage spaces for leftover boxes. If we need to bring in a cleaning service, we can.

I’m distracted by thoughts of seeing Mindy again as I flip the light switches back and forth. Nothing happens. The power must have been switched off after the tenants left. No worries. I have a flashlight in my pocket, and it’s daylight outside.

Twisting the wand on the blinds, I allow the sun to stream through the open floor plan. I take a few photos of spots on the carpet that might require professional cleaners. Otherwise, I don’t see anything notable.

I’m about to head out and send the photos to Patton when I remember to check for boxes left behind in storage. Jogging to the back of the room, I head down a narrow hallway to a door beside a beige filing cabinet.

The light from the windows doesn’t reach this far into the building, and I left my flashlight on the front desk with the keys. Hesitating, I look around. Enough light filters from the front to let me see if anything is here.

I take another step closer to the narrow door, and my heart beats faster. My chest tightens, and the familiar nausea is in my stomach. No. I grind my jaw refusing to let this happen. I’ve worked so hard, dammit.

Closing my eyes, I inhale slowly, focusing on the words. I think about the meditation I listened to on the drive over… Safety.

Opening my eyes again, I see the door, and I’m slammed with a fresh jolt of adrenaline. I’m not alone… They’re in there, behind the door. She’s in there. Danger.

I take another step, and the muscles in my abdomen pull together so hard, I have to take a knee.

“No.” I squeeze my eyes shut, fighting. “Jesus…”

It’s the opposite of what Dr. Curtis would say. I’m supposed to be calm, not fighting. Clutching my forehead, I force myself to stand. Through a gasping breath, I force my feet to move forward.

My fingers tremble as I reach for the door, turning the handle, and letting it fall open. Anxiety like a freight train slams into my brain. Fog blinds my eyes, and I’m in that jungle again, looking through those doors.

Only I’m not there. I’m here, in Nashville. Safety.

Sweeping my eyes around the room, I see nothing but an empty space. A sound behind me sends me flying around with a shout, swinging my fist without even looking.

Blank space. I’m alone. It’s all in my mind.

With a cringe, I’m thankful I didn’t just punch an innocent person’s lights out.

Again, using all my willpower, I force my feet to move. I force my body to walk out the door, down the steps, to my truck. I’m shaken and covered in sweat. Shame, defeat, despair sweep through me. I don’t text Patton. I go straight to Dr. Curtis’s office.

“It was a setback, yes, but let’s reframe it.” Dr. Curtis sits across from me, her elbows on the desk and her fingers steepled. “You got yourself out of that storage closet on your own. You brought your mind back to the present. That’s huge, Sawyer.”

The fountain trickles behind her, and the discouragement I feel eases a fraction. “I don’t know if I’d say huge.” My voice is still flat. I’m not ready to concede just yet.

Still, I think to the previous times, at the nursing home, outside Noel’s store, at the lake…

“You’re ready.” She takes out her pen and writes on a pad. “We’ll check in via Skype once a month, but I see no reason for you to stay in Nashville any longer. Look at me Mr. LaGrange.”

Our eyes meet, and hers burn with conviction. “You saved yourself today. Own that victory and keep building. You’ve got this.”

“Uncle Sawyer’s home!” Dove is at the back door bouncing on her toes and squealing at the top of her lungs. “Uncle Sawyer’s home!”

A smile splits my cheeks, and I slam the door of the truck, grabbing my canvas deployment bag out of the bed. “I’m home, baby girl!”