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“It’s good she has someone she trusts.” He pauses. “Do you think she’s capable of trusting someone else?”
I nod. “She didn’t know Tom until after she moved here, and she trusts him. She can trust someone new if you can prove to her you’re worthy.”
He studies me with somber eyes. “What should I do if she has another panic attack?”
“Don’t touch her,” I say immediately. “Just keep telling her to take deep breaths and remind her she’s safe, that no one’s going to hurt her. She has PTSD, and unexpected or unwanted touch can trigger her. Give her space and remind her to breathe and she’ll calm down. If you need help, call me. Or call Lila and Tucker. They’re good at calming her down over the phone.”
He’s silent for a long moment. “She's got to move past her past.”
My temper flares. “She’s working on it, but this isn’t like getting passed over for a promotion or not fulfilling your life goals before you turn thirty, Life Coach.”
His expression tightens when I mock his self-imposed job title. “I’m not saying it is. Obviously, Charlie had a very traumatic experience. I’m just saying she can’t grab her future while she’s clinging to her past.”
I growl without intending to, and his eyes widen. “Clinging to her past? After what those bastards did, you think –” I glare at him. “Her past imprisons her. She’s not clinging to it, she’s trying to escape it. You think she can just flip a switch and forget? It’s assholes like you who make her think she’s damaged beyond repair.”
“I’m not trying to sound callous. I like Charlie. I want to help her, not hurt her. I was trying to find out what I needed to know.”
I stand and reach for my crutches. He gets up, too, realizing he’s gone too far. I move purposefully toward him, and he backs up. “I told you, if you hurt her, I’ll fucking wipe the floor with your ass. That’s what you need to know.”
He scurries out of the rehab gym, nearly knocking Lila over in his haste. “Sorry,” he apologizes with a backward glance in my direction.
“Chasing the boxing coach out of the building? That’s new.” Lila stares pensively after his retreating form. “Blake’s left a string of broken hearts in his wake. I’m glad Charlie’s felt secure enough to go out with someone more than once, but I don’t think he’ll be as patient as she needs someone to be.” She cocks her head. “You don’t like him much, do you?”
“He said Charlie should get over what happened to her.” Her eyes flash dangerously. “And she’s come home upset each time she’s gone out with him.”
She shakes her head. “He has no idea how much hell will rain down on him if he hurts her.” Then she grins. “I’ve never heard you threaten anyone she went out with before.”
I frown. “I didn’t worry about her then like I do now.”
Maybe if I had, none of the shit she’s been through would have ever happened.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHARLIE
“I don’t get it. I panic at physical contact, and I was relieved Blake didn’t try to kiss me, but I was also disappointed. It doesn’t make sense. Shouldn’t I just feel one or the other?”
It’s late Friday, and I’m in Linda’s soothing blue office, tucked into her plush sofa with my shoes kicked off and legs folded beneath me. She’s in the wingback chair, her spiked gold heels on the floor and her knees drawn up, rumpling her black pantsuit with its leopard print blouse peeking out of the prim jacket. We’re working through my (lengthy) list of issues. We’ve talked about the improvement of my night terrors with Mark’s help. I’ve brought up what Willow and I discussed, including my recent affectionate touch with Tom. I’ve told her about sharing my past with him, and him sharing his pain about his sister with me. Now we’ve moved on to whatever this is with Blake. Seeing him, I guess, though our encounters have mostly been chaperoned, either by his nieces or my coworkers. Three times this week, he’s brought me lunch at the clinic.
“Why should you be limited to one emotion?” Linda smiles. “Life is complicated. Why shouldn’t feelings be?”
“Shouldn’t I either want him to kiss me or not want him to?”
“How would you have felt six months ago?”
“I would have freaked out.”
She nods. “Progress isn’t instantaneous or linear. It’s a process. Think about your life six months ago. You were still in combat mode. You had severe night terrors, and you were extremely uncomfortable around men in social settings. Compare that to today. You haven’t fired your weapon since the first night Mark moved in. You relinquish your gun every evening, entrusting your safety to someone else. You sleep in the same room as a trusted male friend. You’re seeing someone. You’re choosing intentional vulnerability.” She smiles gently. “Healing takes time. The fact that part of you wants Blake to kiss you means your inner self is trying to break free from fear. I believe in the near future, you won’t feel conflicted. Celebrate your progress, Charlie. You’ve grown tremendously these past couple of months.”
“Because of Mark.”
She shakes her head. “Because of you.”
“Being around him makes me stronger,” I insist.
“He encourages you, but your strength is your own, and you should acknowledge it.”
I sigh. “So what do I do about these conflicted feelings?”
