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“She is too young for me,” I state, not denying it, but trying to push them off the topic, and he huffs. It’s true,though, and something I have thought about. Keeping her at arm’s length is the sensible thing to do.
“Not really,” he murmurs. “Victoria is about twenty years my junior.” He disproves my point instantly. I’m in my late thirties, and I know Lacy is mid-twenties, at best. So there are at least fifteen years between us.
“I have a kid.” Harvey is my everything, and for anyone who comes into my life, they need to get along with my son and actually want children in their life. Otherwise, I can’t commit.
“So do I,” Tanner says, side-eyeing his adult son, and I roll my eyes.
“Not the same.” I take another sip. Clearly, Connor is an adult, and even older than Victoria.
“What? I love my new mom!” Connor jests, laughing, and Tanner smacks him in the arm.
“Seriously. None of that can hold you back. I thought something might have happened before you left last time,” Tanner says in question, eyeing me over the rim of his glass as he takes a sip.
“You did leave pretty quickly,” Connor adds. It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him that I had to. I had to leave so I could come back quicker. I had to leave because seeing Lacy in that hospital bed brought back searing emotions from seeing my late wife in a similar position, and it hit me then how short life really is. But IsavedLacy, and she gripped on to me like she never wanted to let me go as I did the same to her. I can’t explain it. Not really. The feelings between us were intense, even though it was merely one night and too much for me to fully process. Leaving and getting things sorted to come back gave methe time to think through things, it made things clearer, and in the end, coming back here to Whispers was what I really wanted to do.
“Nothing happened. We turned up, I pulled her from the ropes, traveled with her to the hospital, and took care of her medical needs, just like any doctor would,” I say honestly.
“I know. I’m not saying you did anything unprofessional,” Tanner says.
“It was an emotional night,” I tell him, shrugging, and he just nods, knowing exactly what I mean. “And now I need to focus on the hospital and my son.” Taking in a deep breath, I square my shoulders. But as we sit here, I hear another laugh from across the room, and I don’t need to look to know who it came from.
It feels good to be back.
5
LACY
Isqueeze my eyes shut, the pain in my head searing.
“Help!” I try to scream, but my head feels like it’s in a tornado. I gulp in air, the fright in my body paralyzing.
“Help!” I scream again, the skin on my legs burning, my body full of pain.
“Help!” The familiar smell of dirt, animals, and gasoline infiltrates my nostrils.
Nausea swirls in my stomach and makes me lightheaded, as my hands are yanked over my head. The pain in my wrists is instant, and I blink hard a few times, my vision blurry.
“Somebody! Please!” I yell, but my voice sounds muffled. I’m confined, constricted. I can’t move, my arms aching from being tied together. Fear crawls up my chest, my heart races, and sheer panic starts to take over. I thrash around, but I can’t get free.
“Help me! Somebody, help me!” My shoulders feellike they are going to rip from my body, my wrists numb like they aren’t even connected to me anymore.
“Help me!” I scream and sit up with a start. My eyes open wide, my panting breath labored, and I look around my bedroom in fear, clutching the sheets to my chest.
Another nightmare.Just a nightmare.My heart is beating out of my chest, the vibrations making me tremble. I rub my eyes, willing the fear to dissipate, grateful for the small lamp I left on last night, bringing the reality of life to my eyes immediately.
I’m in bed. I’m safe.
I try to unfurl the sheets tangled around my body, my skin hot, slick with sweat as my head starts to thump, the nightly headache now approaching.
Throwing the sheets off, I turn and sit on the edge of the bed, placing my feet flat on the floor. Grounding. That’s what my therapist calls it. I look around the room and voice three things I can see.
“Pillows. Mirror,” I say before I turn to look out the window, taking in the sparkles that decorate the sky. “The stars.”
I take a deep breath in and verbalize the three things I can smell.
“Shampoo.” I take in another breath, my now damp with sweat hair intensifying the wash I gave it earlier. “My perfume… and the half-empty herbal tea.” I look at the cup on my bedside. Half-empty with chamomile tea I made myself, thinking it might help me sleep.
News flash. It didn’t.