Page 67 of Healing Conviction

Worse. He looked heartbroken.

Godsdamnit, shut up all of you.

The object of all her internal woe stood up, slinging his bag across his sexy back. “I want to go alone.”

“Yeah, see, that’s what I’m afraid of. You’ve been tripping and limping all morning, don’t think I haven’t seen you. Yesterday rightfully wore you out. I don’t want you going out in the woods to do whatever the heck you’re doing all by yourself. What if you get hurt? Besides, aren’t we supposed to be doing these recon shenanigans together?”

This give and take had been happening all morning, serving up a whole bowl of awkward that she’d had to choke down, along with every word she’d kept from saying. They’d eaten in silence, almost like he was waiting for her to come clean with him, to explain why she was so eff’d in the head. She was proud she’d stuck to her guns but as she watched him close off more and more throughout the day, she wondered if she’d gotten so good at faking it, that even her internal feelings were now a facade.

“I don’t need your help today, Nora. You did your part talking to the women. Now it’s my turn to be useful.” She thought she heard him mutter, “For a change,” but she didn’t call him on it. If she hadn’t been paying so much attention to him, she might not even have noticed.

There’d already been enough real talking for one day. She would’ve left it alone entirely, and let him go on his way, but anxiety gripped her throat at the thought of what would happen after he left.

Different tactic.

“What is it you’re doing again?” she asked, following behind him and hoping one—or both—of them talking would keep him distracted.

“I’m gonna watch the CTI facility today. Double-check that no one is around, so it’ll likely be boring as fuck. It’s a weekend and when I checked yesterday, it was shut down. If that’s still the case, it should be easy to see any movement that happens, but I doubt anything will until Monday.”

“So… we’re gonna be here for a few more days.” Knowing which direction he’d come from yesterday, she began to move toward the edge of the perimeter, silently hoping he’d subconsciously let her tag along.

He glanced at her, his face unreadable. She thought the jig was up, but he shook his head and replied. “Yeah, it’s recon. Basically a stakeout until we hear from Snake about the third woman. Is that gonna be a problem? We can get someone to take you home and I can go through the rest of the mission myself.”

“No! I want to stay with you!” His dark-blond brows raised, and she cleared her throat. “I mean, who wouldn’t want to be around a handsome stud like you, amirite?” It physically hurt to lay on the charm like that, but if it worked, she’d suck it up. He’d resumed his surly face, the one he wore for everyone else, but when they reached the edge of their little clearing and he kept walking, forgetting that she was following, she counted it as a win. Flirting always proved to be an excellent strategy to get things done. She did it all the time, in fact.

So why did she feel sick about it now?

They walked in silence the entire way to the perch he’d found the day before, but the farther they went, the more thankful she was that she’d tricked him into compliance. She didn’t miss how his steps were slower, more deliberate than they were yesterday. She and Drake had been metaphorically and literally running nonstop for three days, but he insisted on acting like he wasn’t dragging. Every time she saw him trip, despite each painstaking step, her heart squeezed in her chest.

They’d been separated for barely half an hour the day before, long enough for him to confirm before dark that they were in a good position for spying on the CTI facility, but not so long that her paranoia could kick in. Now she was bone tired, and couldn’t imagine the shock his exhausted muscles were getting. If he’d left her for an hours-long stakeout, she would’ve been terrified every second that he wouldn’t come back.

When they reached a large tree with thick branches and flat ground underneath, Drake set his bag down and tapped on a low, thick branch. “Think you can climb this or do you need a boost?”

It was only about her height from the ground, but she glanced at the trunk of the tree with its hard bark and questionable footholds and absolutely didnotwant to climb it. But Drake was unpacking his bag and obviously frustrated with her. She didn’t want to irritate him anymore.

Before she could open her mouth to make an excuse, she was yelping as Drake lifted her up into the tree. She grappled with branches on the way up to literally get a grip until she finally settled on the thick branch with a huff.

“A little warning might’ve been nice,” she muttered.

“Just didn’t want you to have to guess what I wanted to hear.”

The back of her neck grew hot at his insinuation. “Oh, don’t worry, I won’t ever be doingthatagain.”

Indecipherable grumbling below her was the only response. The urge to defend herself further was strong, but the cold hard truth cooled her anger.

Was he wrong?

She was coming to realize she had two settings, both centering on everyone but herself: being open and honest with people abouttheirproblems and giving people what they wanted. Either way, focusing on others ensured that she could avoid confronting her own issues.

Hades in a handbasket… I’m gonna have to go back to therapy again.

She’d never considered a therapist before working for her boss. Jules was a huge cheerleader for it, so Nora had gone but had stopped when she never really got anything out of it. It was their motto at the clinic that everyone needed a therapist, and she preached it to survivors all day, but now she was beginning to wonder if she’d ever really taken the advice seriously.

Maybe not since Drake’s officially the only person to know my past.

Her brain stuttered. Had she been doing therapy wrong? Was that even possible?

With a sigh, she blinked and strained her eyes to see the details of the compound. “I’m looking, but I don’t know what I’m looking for exactly.”