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Her face dropped. “Are you okay?” She pointed to the cup. “I haven’t had a chance to go over there yet. Please tell me it’s just a craphole we can ignore.”
Shaking my head, I laughed. “Not a craphole we can ignore. Not something I think will threaten the shop if I can get people to trust us again.”
“Okay, what’s up?”
I glanced toward the door to make sure we weren’t going to get any customers before I nodded over to our couch and chairs. “I promise it’s nothing bad. Well, it is, but it’s to do with me and not you.”
Evie settled on the couch and blinked. “Please spit it out so I realize it’s not as bad as you’re making it sound.”
Yeah, I wasn’t doing a good job right now. “I hadn’t told anyone this until Jude a couple of nights ago. But…I’ve been struggling with what happened to us.”
“With Nathan?” Evie went entirely still. My friend was pretty good about the whole ordeal, but I knew she struggled with it too. Arguably more than I did since she was the one who was tortured and who had scars all over her body.
“Yeah.” My voice sounded raspy. “I’ve been having nightmares, and the night I first kissed Jude, I’d been having a panic attack when Bessie died because it was so similar. When I’m here alone and it’s dark, I freak out. I just… I’m not handling it well.”
Her face softened, and she took a minute to absorb it all. “I honestly had no idea,” she said. “You’ve been hiding it really well.”
“I’ve been trying to.”
“Why? Why didn’t you say anything? I would have understood.”
I squeezed my hands together, fidgeting with the discomfort. “I didn’t want to bother anyone with it. Everyone else has gone through something worse. I was with you. I know what he did to you was ten times worse than what he did to me.”
Sitting forward, Evie pinned me with a stare. “I don’t buy that. Not for a second. The things he did to us were different, not better or worse. Nathan tried to kill you too. And having to watch someone tortured is a form of torture in itself.”
She was right, of course, but it still didn’t feel comparable to me. “He buried you alive. I think that’s a bit more intense than an overdose.”
“Lena, it’s not a competition.” I opened my mouth to say I knew, but she stopped me. “Hold on, let me finish. What happened to me was awful. Life-altering and shitty. I’m not going to pretend it wasn’t. But just because it happened to me does not somehow invalidate what happened to you. There’s not an invisible measuring stick you have to line up your trauma with in order to see if you deserve to feel badly about it.”
When she put it like that, then yes, of course. I had no argument to make there.
“Just because someone could look at our two experiences and think one is objectively ‘worse,’ doesn’t mean it wasn’t the worst thing to ever happen to you. Pretending it’s not won’t help.”
“That’s for sure,” I said with a sigh. “I just wanted to keep being the person everyone thought was okay. You know? Everyone comes in here and feels better—or at least, they used to—because what doesn’t make you feel better than coffee and sugar? I didn’t want to mess that up by suddenly being this person who wears her trauma on her sleeve.”
Evelyn tilted her head when she looked at me. “Is that how you feel about me?”
“What? God, no. Of course not.” I shook my head. “Never.”
She smiled like she knew she’d get that response and had planned it. “Good. Because I actually wear my trauma on my sleeve.” Lifting her scarred arm, she underscored her point. “But if you don’t think of me only in the context of my trauma with a fucking visible reminder every day, why would you assume people would do it to you?”
“You’re making too much sense,” I grumbled.
“It happens when you’re always right.”
I stuck out my tongue but ended up smiling. “Yeah, I know. And I know everything you’ve said is right… It just feels different.”
Evie nodded, standing and stretching before grabbing the rival coffee and tasting it. “I know. Being inside your own head can be a total trip. But you can get the hang of it. This is not good.” She made a face.
“It’s fine.”
“Ours is better.”
I tried desperately not to laugh. Both she and Jude had said the same. Sure, they were biased, but I still loved to hear it. “Thanks.”
“On the previous topic, I think you should make an appointment with Rayne.”
Dr. Rayne was the therapist in town who worked with Resting Warrior. Jude saw her; Evie saw her. Basically, everyone at the ranch did. So it wasn’t like she would be unfamiliar with the situation. Still, my stomach twisted at the thought.
