“Actually, I was hoping we could make a detour,” I say tentatively.
“Anything you want,” he says easily as he makes a move to rise to his feet.
“I want to see Jill.”
Holden tenses as he stares at me. “Jill Danvers? Why?”
“Because it’s something I need to do.” When I see his frown, I touch his arm. “I know you don’t like her—”
“It’s not that I don’t like her,” he quickly cuts in.
I give him a look. “Don’t mask it because of me. I understand why you don’t like her, and I’m not even sure how I feel about her. All I know is I need to see her. You do know where she lives, don’t you?”
Holden sighs and rubs his eyebrow. “Yeah. But maybe you should call first. She may not even want to see you.”
He has a point. “Can you call? Please?”
His eyes search mine. “Does it have to be right now, Ren?”
“It does. It’s just something I need to do, and I think the sooner the better.” I give him a wry shrug. “Don’t ask why, it’s just this feeling that I have. It’s like I need to put it behind me before I can focus on everything else.”
Holden studies me and then nods. “Okay, let me call the department since I don’t personally have the number.”
I watch as he rises to his feet and calls the department while he paces the living room. There’s something important that I need to do where Jill is concerned. I haven’t been able to figure out what it is, but I guess I’ll figure it out when I see her.
Holden walks over a minute later, his brows furrowed. “Jill’s fiancé says she’s not taking visitors.”
I’m disappointed and unable to hide it. “Did he say how she’s doing?”
“She’s barely talking to him and doesn’t want to leave the apartment.”
“We still need to drop by,” I say slowly as I begin to realize what’s bothering me and what I need to do.
Concern grows on Holden’s face. “Ren, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
I rise to my feet, careful of my boot and look at him steadily. “I know some of the things I’m doing is making you second guess me, but I can’t help it. This time is different, Holden. I’m not curled up in a ball and worried for my sanity. Do I feel whole? Hell, no. Do I know it’s wrong that I can’t ‘feel’ the things that I need to? Yes. But I can’t force anything. All I can do is go with my instinct, and it’s telling me to see Jill.”
Holden’s silent as he gazes at me with troubled eyes.
I look at him sadly. “This is me. Rational and irrational. During the past few days, I’ve felt like a stranger in my own skin, but when I’m with you, I feel so much better. I just want to take this one day at a time. I think that’s what I need.”
He walks over and wraps his arms around me, holding me close to his chest but also being mindful of my injured shoulder. “I’m not doubting you,” he murmurs, brushing his lips against my temple. “I’m just worried, as anyone would be when someone they love goes through something traumatic.”
“I know.” I tilt my chin and press a kiss to his scruffy cheek. He hasn’t shaved since the night I’d been abducted. We’ve just been so busy with everything that he hasn’t had a chance. He actually looks pretty dang sexy with those whiskers.
He notes my fascination with his scruffy beard, and his lips quirk in amusement. “Time to shave?”
“I don’t know. I kind of like it.”
He chuckles. “We’ll discuss it tonight. So, we’re going to Jill’s?”
“Yes,” I say firmly.
* * *
Jill lives with her fiancé in a quaint apartment building only five blocks from where Holden and I had been staying throughout the investigation.
Holden hadn’t felt comfortable just dropping in on them, so he’d text messaged Seth. Thankfully, Seth thought it’d be good for Jill to see me, so he’s expecting us but isn’t warning Jill. Evidently, she’s great at avoidance and likes to lock herself in the bathroom from time to time.
When we reach their apartment door, I lightly knock.
The door quickly opens, and a tall, dark-haired man stands there. He’s young with a slim build and blue eyes that look relieved to see us. “Come in,” he says, ushering us inside.
I carefully maneuver the crutches as I cross the threshold with Holden directly behind me. Yes, I have a walking boot, but it’s easier to move around using the crutches.
We’ve stepped into a cozy living room decorated in soft blues and white, but what holds my attention is Jill. She’s curled up on the sofa with a blanket wrapped around her as she watches a movie on TV. When she sees me, her mouth falls open.
I hobble over and set the crutches aside as I ease down onto the sofa before she can consider leaving the room.
Her eyes fill with tears as she quickly looks away. “You shouldn’t be here,” she says thickly.
“Why?” I ask gently.
She sniffles and uses the edge of the fluffy, white blanket to wipe her nose. “Because of what I did. You must hate me,” she says miserably.
I glance at Holden and Seth, who both are awkwardly standing there. Holden lays a hand on Seth’s shoulder, nodding his head to motion that they should give us privacy.
Once they’re gone, I refocus on Jill. “I don’t hate you. If I hated you, I wouldn’t be here,” I point out.
She says nothing as a tear trickles down her cheek.
I know how cruel guilt can be and how it can eat away at one’s soul. I reach over and touch her shoulder. “I hold no ill will towards you, and I want you to know that there’s nothing to forgive. You were surviving, that’s all any of us want. We all have self-preservation inside us, Jill.”
Jill’s eyes dart to mine, and I can see them flooding with self-disgust. “There’s a difference between surviving and taking.”
“I went through something similar when I was sixteen, remember? My reactions to what was happening were going to be different than yours, no matter what you did.”
Her expression is full of sorrow. “I feel awful,” she whispers.
“I know. And I’m sure I will too once the dust settles. We both had to do things so that we could survive. I don’t know about you, but I’m glad I’m here.”
Jill studies me, and sometimes, she can be quite perceptive. “You saved us. It was him or us, you know that,” she says quietly.
I manage to pull together a smile as a sick feeling twists in my gut. Yep, there it is. It’ll surface soon, but not right now. “I know, but it’s still difficult to grasp, isn’t it?”
She nods and wipes her cheek with the blanket. “I’m glad you came to see me. Everything just feels strange after being in that basement. I don’t know how to go back to normal.”
“Instead of focusing on normal, focus on how to accept that you’ve changed. Those memories are going to be with you for a long time, and you can’t pretend it never happened.”
She looks at me hesitantly. “Seth wants me to seek help,”
I nod in agreement. “I think that’s wise. And to be honest, I think this time around I’m going to have to talk to someone, too. I want to do everything right this time so that I can enjoy my future.”
“I’m scared,” she says as her nose wrinkles. “I don’t like admitting my vulnerabilities.”
“Nobody does, but in the long run, it’ll make us stronger.”
Jill nods, and then she looks me over. “How are you doing? I wanted to stay at the hospital. I was hoping I could see you after your surgery, but I wasn’t sure if you’d want to see me.”
“I was pretty out of it for the first few days, so I wouldn’t have even known you were there. It’s going to be a slow recovery process, but I’ll get there,” I say lightly.
We talk for a bit longer and even exchange numbers. I think it’ll be good to reach out to one another when we need someone who can relate to what we’d endured.
Thirty-six
Holden
It’s been almost a week since we’d returned to Little Rock, and the nightmares have become a nightly occurrence. Usually, she settles down the more that she hears my voice, and tonight is no different. Slowly, the nightmare loses its grip on her, and she begins to settle. Her breathing slows, and the sweat on her brow begins to dry.
When I’m certain she’s back to sleep and the nightmare is over, I release a soft exhale. Martinez is still waiting for her to come in and give her statement, but she hasn’t willingly spoken about anything that had happened in that farmhouse. It’ll have to wait until she’s ready to deal with what happened.
I’ve been worried about her, and I’d even gone as far as to contact the department psychiatrist to see if there’s anything I can do to help her through this. He’d assured me that Ren would work through it on her own time, and all I could do was remain patient and be there for her when she’s ready. Right now, her mind is protecting her until she’s capable of dealing with the repercussions. Because I’d had to fill him in on her background, he’d also warned me that Ren had taken a life. That will likely affect her in many ways, and counseling would be advisable. She’s already aware that she’s going to need help, so I’m not pushing.
It’s tough as hell, though, because I feel like we’re stuck in limbo. I know she feels it too, but there’s not much we can do. So, we continue to move forward even with the dark cloud hanging over our heads.
Next week, she wants to begin looking for a new job. Bull’s won’t be back up and running for a long time, but she’d already stated that she doesn’t ever want to step foot back inside that building. I’d told her to take her time finding something, and that I’ve got the rent covered.
Thankfully, Martinez had been gracious enough to give me this past week off, but starting Monday, I need to get back into a routine. I’m dreading leaving Ren, but she seems unfazed by the idea of being alone. I suppose she’s accustomed to it.
I also need to stop treating her like she’s breakable. She’d commented earlier that night that it was starting to wear on her nerves. She’d lectured me on how she’s not losing her mind, and she’s not ignoring that the ‘detachment’ exists. However, she’s comfortable with letting things unfold as they may, and I need to stop expecting her to be fine one day, and completely lose it the next. This isn’t her first rodeo, and this time around, she’s going to deal with it so that she can move on.
Christ, this woman has got my heart, and I hope to God she never wants to let it go.
Thirty-seven
Ren
Monday morning, I lean a hip against the bathroom doorway and watch as Holden shaves. He looks incredibly sexy wearing nothing but a towel wrapped around his hips. Waterdrops still cling to his bare chest as he slowly brings the razor across his cheek, ridding himself of the short beard he’d grown.
His eyes slide to mine with amusement. “Going to miss it, aren’t you,” he teases.
“Maybe a little,” I muse. I’d caught him numerous times rubbing his cheeks because the hair was itching him. I’d finally suggested he shave it now that he’s going back to work.
A heavy silence fills the bathroom. I know he’s feeling uncertain about leaving me today, especially when I have a follow-up appointment. I’d assured him that I’d be taking an Uber and not to worry. I need to go back to doing things on my own, especially errands.
I limp over and ease behind him, wrapping my arms around his bare waist and resting my cheek against his back. “I’ll be fine,” I promise.
“I know you will. You’re stronger than any female I know,” he says firmly.
A smile curves my lips, and I press a kiss to his shoulder blade before moving to the side so I can look up at him. “I think tonight we need to reconnect,” I say deliberately.
The razor pauses, and his eyes flicker to mine. “You sure?”
I give him a look. “I’m not waiting any longer. My fingers don’t hurt as much, and we can be careful with my foot.” His eyes shift to my shoulder, and I roll my eyes. “I’m fine, Holden.”
He smiles with bemusement and then goes back to shaving. “Will you text me after your appointment?”
“I will, I promise.”
The man is stubborn, and it’s like dragging a dog by its leash just to get him to the apartment door, much less through it so that he can be to work on time.
Once he’s gone, I blow out a breath and look around his apartment. He’s a man of course, so the décor is simplistic, but I like it. There are a few touches here or there to make the apartment more personal, and the atmosphere has been welcoming. Moving in with Holden had been much easier than I’d expected.
My hand lifts, and I press it to the center of my chest—where there’s a knot deep inside. The knot has been slowly building the past few days, and this morning, it aches. I’ve been trying to ignore it, because I don’t want to deal with it. I know I’d said I would handle it when the time came, but it’ll change things, and I’m liking them as they are.
With a shake of my head, I limp towards the bathroom so that I can begin readying myself for my morning appointment.
* * *
It’s still there.
I’m frustrated, because tonight was supposed to be about being with Holden. I want him to be inside me, and I want to be as close to him as possible. I’ve missed the intimacy so much.
But the damned knot inside my chest is intensifying, and it’s distracting me from what I want most.
The razor slices into my skin, and I release a hiss and toss the pink razor into the sink, grabbing a towel. This is what I get for trying to shave with my left hand. I hadn’t shaved this morning because it’d slipped my mind, and now that it’s evening and Holden is making dinner, I’d decided to take care of that minor detail.
I yank the towel off the hand bar, and as I’m about to press it to the wound, my eyes lock on the drop of blood making its way down my shin. Flashbacks slam into me as I recall using my thumb to gouge my father’s eye. The knot explodes inside my chest, and suddenly I can’t breathe.
The towel drops from my trembling hand, and I slide off the counter and double over as my stomach churns. The flashbacks continue, and tears streak my cheeks as I gasp, trying to gulp in air that doesn’t want to expand my lungs.
My injured foot can’t take my weight, and I stumble backwards until my butt hits the wall. I slide down to the floor as sobs erupt from my throat.
I’d killed him.
I took a life.
The door flies open, and then Holden is there, wrapping his arms around me. “I’ve got you,” he assures in a husky voice.
“Can’t…breathe…” I gasp as I struggle to draw in oxygen. My heart is thundering in my ears, and I’m beginning to panic.
“You can.” He frames the back of my head with his hand and presses his lips to my temple. “In and out, Ren. In…”
I struggle to draw in precious air, but it feels like my lungs are shrinking. I recognize this for what it is—a panic attack. But it doesn’t stop my heart from racing or the fear from pulsing through my veins. I clutch at Holden, trying to anchor myself to him.
“You can do it. One breath at a time,” he coaxes as he rubs my back.
Just when I think I’m going to pass out, oxygen rushes back into my lungs, and then I’m choking as I sob and breathe at the same time.
Holden holds me for what feels like hours. Eventually, my breathing returns to normal, but now all the energy has left me. When he realizes I’m over the worst of it, he carefully picks me up. Cautious of the boot, he carries me into the living room and eases onto the sofa, keeping me on his lap. He holds me against his chest and rubs my thigh. “I love you so much, Ren,” he murmurs.
Through sticky eyelashes, I look
at him with disappointment. “I was hoping…”
His eyes meet mine. “That you could handle everything and not be traumatized from it?” he asks gently.
I nod, feeling foolish now. “I mean, I knew it was coming, but I was hoping it’d be different.” I bite my lip and look at him warily. “Now that…it’s all coming back, I’m going to be that mess I was when we first met.”
“No, you won’t.” He brushes a tear from my cheek. “You have me now. You’re not going to need the alcohol, because I’ll chase away your demons for you. And when you have a panic attack, I’ll be there to hold you and get you through it.” His eyes burn into mine. “And when they finally fade, and you can truly move on, we’ll celebrate together. This time is different, Ren.”
A soft, disappointed sigh escapes me. “You have no idea how badly I wish to be normal.”
“I didn’t fall in love with normal,” he points out.
I can’t help but snort. “I can’t be a hot mess forever.”
“Exactly.” He presses his lips to my forehead. “Someday, you’ll be a happy mess.”
“A happy mess?” I ask, pulling away with confusion.
“You, sweetheart, are a messy person,” he says in a frank tone.
I blink, and then shrug. “Bad habit.”
“Well, lucky for you, I don’t mind coming behind you to pick up your dirty towels off the floor, or recapping the toothpaste, or putting your dishes in the sink,” he teases.
A smile curves my lips as I rest my head on his shoulder. “I love you,” I say softly.
“I love you, too.”
“Holden?”
“Hmm?”
“I killed him,” I say softly, voicing it out loud for the first time.
“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks gently.
For the first time, some of the ache begins to ease. “I think I do.” I’m no longer afraid to tell Holden everything I’m feeling inside, and I know he’ll move heaven and earth to support me. Because that’s what love is. You love someone through all the tough times, and when someone stands in your way of getting back to the one you love, you fight.
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