Addy’s eyes narrowed. “Are you remembering something about Costa Rica?”
Lana shook her head. “I don’t think so. I don’t know.”
“It’s all right, Lana.” Addy’s eyes shone with understanding. “I won’t force you to do this.”
Lana didn’t want to fail at this simple exercise. “But I want to do it. It shouldn’t be that difficult.”
“Don’t use shoulds,” Addy said. “This is about what you’re comfortable doing and building that trust in the group over time. We can always have you do it later.”
Frustration built along with the fear, and Lana realized she’d clenched her hands at her sides.
“Trust me, Lana.” Aaron’s voice went deeper, a husky, liquid sound. As if he soothed a wild animal. “I won’t let you fall.”
She did feel wild. As if she’d lost her bearings in a feral and unprotected land. Tears gathered in her eyes. “Why can’t I do this? It’s easy.”
“Sometimes that first step to trust is harder than you expect,” Addy said. “Don’t let it break you.”
Suddenly she felt Aaron closer behind her, his warmth and slightly musky scent sending a rush of soothing energy over her. “You can do it. You’re tough. You’ve lived through things that would break marines in half. I’m closer now. You don’t have to fall all the way back.”
“Wait, he’s too close to her,” Magnus said, a pout clear on his mouth. “Isn’t that breaking the rules?”
Addy laughed softly. “There are no real rules in this, Magnus. Technically we ask people to fall quite a ways back. But maybe she needs to work up to that bigger fall. Aaron, that’s a good idea. He’s pretty close to you, Lana. He’s cut the distance in half. You have hardly any distance to fall.”
“Turn and look at me, Lana. See how close I am,” Aaron said.
Slowly she turned her body halfway around and looked at him. He held his hands out. Wow. Yes, he was very close. She drew in a deep breath and caught his gaze again. A rush of sensual heat blossomed in her loins at his voice and effectively shoved fear right out the window. Oh, yeah. She wanted…what? What did she want?
“Lana?” Addy asked, concern in her voice.
Lana turned away from Aaron and managed a smile. “I’m fine. I can do this.”
“Good.” Addy began her count. “One. Two. Three. Fall.”
Lana fell back. Within seconds, two powerful arms snagged her around the waist and drew her back against a strong, hard body. He moved her forward so that she stood straight, and her hands landed on one of his forearms and the other over his big right hand.
While it couldn’t have been more than a few seconds, the feeling of his ripped physique pressed against hers sent Lana’s libido into overdrive. The heat in her face now had more to do with arousal than embarrassment. His arms tightened for a fraction of a second, so quickly that she wasn’t sure if she imagined it. Almost like a sweet, reassuring little hug.
He released her. “Told you I wouldn’t let you fall.”
She turned toward Aaron and smiled. “Thank you.”
The twinkle in his gaze held amusement. “You’re welcome.”
Addy clapped her hands together. “Excellent. Okay, let’s go around the room and try this with a new partner.”
By the time Lana had accomplished the trust exercise with everyone but Magnus, she figured Magnus catching her would be a piece of cake. It was easy now, thank God. When she lined up and Magnus stood behind her, she realized he stood as close as Aaron had. All right. No big deal. As directed, she fell back. Magnus caught her, although his grip had more noodle to it than real security. But he also moved up a second later, and that’s when she felt him twitch, his hips pressing into her buttocks with familiarity. She jerked out of his arms and swung around.
Aaron stood on the other side of her and must have seen her reaction. He stepped up, right in between her and Magnus. Aaron was so damned tall she couldn’t even see Magnus now.
“Oh, hell no,” Aaron said in a low, deadly voice to Magnus. “You didn’t do what I just think you did.”
“What?” Magnus’s voice went a little higher, a bit of whine in the tone. “What are you talking about?”
“You just copped a feel.” Aaron’s voice stayed calm and low.
“All I did was catch her,” Magnus said.
“You pressed your hips against her, you pervert.” Aaron’s voice held icy certainty.
Shocked by Aaron coming to her defense like an avenging angel, Lana stepped around his side. Magnus’s face had screwed into pure anger, whereas Aaron’s was hard and uncompromising.
Addy walked up swiftly. “Now, gentlemen, I will not tolerate this in my group. Magnus, you’ll refrain from any inappropriate touching. Aaron, any display of violence toward a member of this group will also not be tolerated. I will throw both of you out, and you won’t get back into the group.”
Aaron threw a glance at Lana and stepped back from everyone by a couple of paces.
Addy planted her hands on her hips. “Good. Now let’s get back to the session. Return to your chairs.”
Magnus seemed pleased, as if he liked Aaron’s forced retreat. Smug bastard. Distaste for Magnus increased inside her.
Lana sank into her chair, hating the fact Magnus sat next to her. Emotions jumbled inside her. A lot had just happened in a short time. Trust, distrust, and amazement. Trust in Aaron to catch her, distrust in Magnus’s slimy hold, and amazement that she’d had so much difficulty dealing with the exercise.
“Let’s start with a new exercise.” Addy had her pad and pen in hand again as she sat down. “I want each person to tell us the single most difficult day they had this week, or perhaps the single most difficult moment this week. Magnus, you go first.”
Lana didn’t look at Magnus, so she didn’t see his expression. His voice came out low. “Well…my employer decided he doesn’t need my services anymore.”
Addy frowned deeply. “Oh, my. I’m so sorry to hear that. Tell everyone about your…former job. And when did that happen?”
Magnus chuckled, but it was a sound of derision. “I told you. Software engineer. Anyway, they called me this morning. So I’ve been firing off résumés all day.”
Addy scribbled on her pad. “Does anyone want to ask Magnus questions?”
Roxanne held up her hand. “Why did they fire you?”
Magnus shifted in his chair and slid farther down. “That’s too personal.”
“All right, we can skip that,” Addy said. “How does it make you feel…losing the job?”
“Like sh—crap. I think they’re full of crap,” Magnus said.
“It sounds as if you’re taking the bull by the horns,” Elliot said with a smile. “After all, you’ve started sending out résumés.”
“I suppose.” Magnus didn’t sound grateful for the encouragement.
“You’ll find something better,” Richard said.
“Right.” Magnus crossed his legs at the ankles and followed up with crossing his arms over his chest. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”
Addy’s expression held the barest hint of impatience, which surprised Lana. She’d never seen anything but encouragement on her face before.
“It’s a very good thing that you’re sending out résumés,” Addy said. “Perhaps tonight you can write down all the things that make you believe the termination is…crap, as you called it. Bring that to our next session, and we can discuss it. One thing we want to do in this group is try and bring out feelings so they don’t fester.”
“I thought this was a PTSD group,” Roxanne said coolly. “We aren’t here to talk about losing jobs.”
Addy nodded, her face clear of perturbation, despite the sharpness of the question. “This is true. We can’t, however, ignore any emotions you’re having while going through the group sessions. So if situations come up, we’ll discuss them. Roxanne, tell us about your most difficult moment this week.”
Roxanne’s façade cracked a littl
e as she gave a brittle smile. “I tried to get a job this week and failed miserably.”
“I thought you were independently wealthy,” Magnus said.
Roxanne tossed him a cold look. “I have means, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to work. My therapist says I need it for my ego.”
“I didn’t think you had any trouble with your ego,” Magnus said.
Addy stepped in. “All right, that’s enough. We all seem to be a bit edgy today. Let’s keep our comments helpful. We’re not here to tear each other down.”
After Roxanne explained her dilemma with locating a new job, Addy moved them to Richard. “Tell us about your worst time this week.”
Richard looked around the group, as if assessing how he should answer based on what others might think. “My wife told me that I haven’t improved enough. I think she’s getting ready to divorce me before we’ve even given group therapy a chance.”
“That’s awful,” Roxanne said.
Richard nodded. “I begged her to understand this whole thing takes more than a week.”
Addy spoke up. “Would it help if I called her and explained more about how group therapy works?”
Richard smiled. “That would be fantastic. Thank you.”
“It’ll be done,” Addy said. “As obvious as it sounds, how did her disapproval at your progress make you feel?”
Richard shrugged. “Like crap. I’ve been trying, but it’s almost as if she just wants me to get over it at the drop of a hat. She never wants to talk about it.”
“I can relate to that,” Lana said suddenly.
Everyone looked at her as if they were surprised she’d spoken. “My parents…well, my father anyway, is like that. He just ignores everything to do with my kidnapping. I always thought Dad was pretty open and emotional.” The words tumbled out. “Instead my mother can’t stop talking to me about it, and my father never talks about it.”
Addy nodded vigorously. “This is common with many families and PTSD. They either clam up or can’t shut up. There’s often not a middle ground. It is very difficult on families. They don’t know how to handle it, so they default to the easiest route. The route that seems natural to them. Richard, go on.”
Lana’s cheeks heated a little. She felt almost as if she’d hijacked Richard’s story, yet she’d understood his situation so well.
“It’s almost as if she wants an excuse to divorce me. Maybe things weren’t as secure before the tsunami as I thought.” Richard’s mouth twisted in derision.
After a short time, they moved to Elliot’s worst moment this week.
“Wednesday night I had the same hideous nightmare.” Elliot leaned forward and rested his forearms across his thighs. “I’m not getting enough sleep.”
Lana noted the dark circles under his eyes, and the insomnia thing she could understand. “I’ll have nightmares about once a week too.”
“Is that your worst experience this week?” Richard asked her. “Nightmares?”
“No,” Lana said. “Sorry, Elliot. Go on.”
Elliot leaned back in his chair, tilting the metal legs so that the front two no longer touched the ground. “That’s all.”
Addy scribbled away on her pad. “Lana? What about you? What was your worst moment this week?”
She mulled that over quickly. She still didn’t feel comfortable revealing things to this group. Of course she would, but it didn’t feel easy or as if she related her deepest, darkest secrets to people she trusted one hundred percent. She thought on that. Had there ever been anyone she trusted that way? To her astonishment, like a flash of lightning, she realized there hadn’t been. Not a soul.
“Lana?” Addy’s question came again.
Lana jerked out of her stupor. “I…my worst moment was yesterday. I decided I’d drive by myself again for the first time. I haven’t driven at all in four months.” She licked her lips, her mouth so dry. She moved her attention to Aaron and found his gaze intent and curious. Something in the way he looked at her gave her courage. “I told my friend Jillie I could go to the grocery store on my own. Turns out I was dead wrong.”
“What happened?” Magnus asked.
Lana ripped her gaze from Aaron, but she didn’t look at Magnus. “I went outside and then all of a sudden, when I got to the car, I was…I guess you could call it panic. I couldn’t do it.”
“What did that feel like?” Addy asked, her voice understanding and patient.
“I don’t know,” Lana said, folding her hands over her lap.
“Like a panic attack?” Magnus asked.
He made her mad, and yet she didn’t know why. Anyone else could have asked the same questions. She darted a glance his way. “I guess that’s how I’d describe it.”
“Everyone knows what that feels like.” Addy nodded, her eyes full of sympathy.
Okay. So maybe Addy wouldn’t make her regurgitate the uncomfortable details.
“I’ve never had a panic attack.” Richard glanced around the room. “But I’ve heard they’re awful. I’m sorry you had to go through that, Lana.”
“Did you feel like you might die?” Magnus asked.
What the hell was he? A mind reader?
Yet she felt compelled to answer. “Yeah. Sort of. I can’t really describe it. It’s not a panic attack exactly. It’s something else I think.”
Addy asked, “Has anyone else here had a panic attack?” No one raised their hands. “All right. Describe it to us Lana.”
“I don’t even like to talk about it,” Lana said softly.
“Why?” Addy asked.
“Because if I even think about it too much, it can bring it on,” Lana said, hating to admit that part.
“I see.” Addy resorted to writing on her note pad again. “Do you think you can try to explain it this time?”
Lana waited for a moment, and when the thought of explaining didn’t set off a panic of its own, she decided to answer.
Aaron said before she could speak, “There’s a rush of dread. Your heart picks up speed. You aren’t panting or crying out. You just hear and see and feel everything right then. Right now. It’s too damned much all at once.” Aaron laced his hands behind his neck, his tone casual. As if he discussed the weather. “That’s when you feel like you might die.”
Lana was overwhelmed in a second. Tears filled her eyes. “That’s it. That’s exactly it. I think I’m going to die.”
One tear fell, and Magnus touched her shoulder. She flinched away from him.
Addy asked, “What did you do then? When you panicked before you could get into the car?”
“I rushed back into the apartment and asked Jillie for a ride,” Lana said.
“How did that feel?” Addy asked.
Lana was on a truth roll now. “Humiliating.”
“Is it like agoraphobia?” Elliot asked.
Lana didn’t hesitate to say, “Partly. I can get out the door. Sometimes I can get as far as turning the car on and getting ready to back out before the feeling comes. And it’s always fast…very fast. It hits like a ton of bricks. It’s awful.”
Addy made the right noises, said the right things to assure her what she’d felt was normal, but Lana knew better. Not all PTSD sufferers felt this. Yet Lana wasn’t like Monica from the online group. She wouldn’t moan that her panic attacks were worse than anyone else’s or special and different. So Lana nodded and agreed. What did it matter?
Addy eventually got to Aaron. “What was your worst moment this week?”
He laced his hands behind his neck again, and Lana’s attention snagged on the way it showed the rippling muscles in his biceps and forearms.
“I didn’t have one,” Aaron said.
One of Addy’s well-formed eyebrows twitched. “Really? Are you sure?”
He grinned. “Yep.”
Lana half expected Magnus to say that was a crock, but when he didn’t, Lana said it for him. “There has to be something. A low point. A point when you didn’t feel your best or made a
mistake or wished you could drop into the ground and disappear.”
Aaron smiled. “Okay. I’ll give you that. My low point was when I realized that I wanted ice cream and there wasn’t any in the house. Sucked.”
Addy’s eyes narrowed at him, and she didn’t look too pleased. “We’re being serious here, Aaron.”
Aaron scrubbed a hand over his jaw. “So am I. I wanted ice cream in the worst way last night, and it was worse than a hormonal pregnant woman wanting pickles. I was ready to throw something through the wall because I didn’t have any f’ing ice cream. If that isn’t a ridiculous low point, I don’t know what is. I didn’t recognize myself at all.”
Heavy silence cloaked the room.
“I don’t get that.” Roxanne’s mouth tightened into that thin line that clearly defined her distaste as her voice sharply. “The rest of us are wrestling with crippling PTSD and you’re worried about ice cream?”
“I don’t think I like that he’s not taking this seriously.” Magnus sounded like a petulant child.
To his credit, Aaron didn’t retaliate with harsh words. Instead he crossed his arms over his wide chest and slouched in his chair. “I guess you don’t understand then, do you?”
Lana couldn’t help herself. “I understand, Aaron.”
Addy, who appeared to be interested in the exchange, said, “Explain to us what you think he’s saying, Lana.”
Lana’s palms felt sticky. She smoothed her hands down her jean-clad thighs. “When you have stress…or something as monumental as PTSD, it can affect you in strange ways.”
“Ice cream?” Roxanne said with sarcasm. “Freaking out because he doesn’t have ice cream?”
Lana swallowed around the tightness in her throat. “Yes. It can be any little thing. Haven’t you every wanted something so much you felt like acting like a two-year-old because you couldn’t get it?”
“No.” Roxanne’s haughty expression reminded Lana of an old-fashioned, priggish schoolmarm from a western movie.
Lana continued. “What Aaron is saying that his reaction to wanting ice cream was ridiculous. That’s the low point. He wouldn’t have acted like this before the PTSD. Right?”
Before There Was You Page 6