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No response.
Sweat dripped from his forehead, and he appeared glazed over and trance-like. Alarmed, she shook him harder.
Mark jumped with a start, flipped over to his knees, and tackled her to the mattress.
With her shoulders pinned down and the wind knocked out of her chest, she couldn’t move. Panicking, she kicked with her good leg to dislodge him from on top of her, but to no avail. “Mark, stop it. You’re in Seattle, and you’re having a nightmare.” She raised her voice.
Looking down, he leapt off her at once and retreated. “My God, I’m so sorry. Sorry.”
“What just happened?” Shaken, she stepped out of the bed, slipped on her bathrobe, and tied it closed with a secure knot while studying him warily. Bruises painted his lower torso like charcoal storm clouds. Sweat rolled down his flushed cheeks, and his eyes watered.
Squinting, he scanned her bedroom walls several times while his hands grasped at the bedsheets. Once his breath stopped hitching, he raised a hand and swiped at his damp forehead, then stared at his toes. “I’ve had a little trouble sleeping lately.” Mumbling, he angled his body toward the wall and slouched against a pillow.
“Understatement of the year.” She didn’t buy it.
“I hope I didn’t hurt you.”
Feeling exposed, Tess circled her arms around her knees to alleviate her discomfort. “Remember how we agreed to be honest with each other, whether the truth was good, bad, or ugly? I’m no stranger to sleeping pills, and I couldn’t wake you up or shake you out of the nightmare. Talk to me.” Aiming to strike an assertive but kind tone, she calmed her voice. The tears welling in his eyes revealed a profound, deep sadness she recognized, having experienced it herself. His gold-toned cheeks flushed scarlet, and he slumped his shoulders as if defeated. Ruddy splotches dotted his skin.
After a long silence, he exhaled. “Since Cedarcliff, my sleep has been disturbed—lots of night terrors and sleepwalking. The stress of getting my hand shattered in Ukraine combined with the kidnapping at Cedarcliff pushed me too far.”
“What do you mean, too far?” Paranoia gripped her like a vise, and her breath grew shallow. Since Cedarcliff, her sense of time had morphed, randomly stretching and shrinking, but in reality, only one week had passed since they met. Nothing in her life was normal anymore, and she questioned her instincts, second-guessing whether she’d misjudged his character and misplaced her trust.
Mark blinked and took a deep breath. “After the explosion at my hospital last spring, I developed post-traumatic stress disorder. A psychiatrist in New York, a specialist in combat trauma, treated me with Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing therapy, medication, and the works. I recovered, but Cedarcliff sent me backward.” His voice trailed off, and he rubbed at one temple.
“I don’t understand. During the gunmen’s attack at Cedarcliff, you were the calmest person in the room. How can it be harder for you now, given that we’re safe?” She considered the term PTSD from multiple angles and spun it around in her head. The morning of their forest trek, when he’d shifted from relative calm to rage in seconds, came to mind. His volatility had disturbed her, and the night terror amplified her unease. She wrestled over how to soothe his pain yet protect herself.
Mark lifted his scarred left hand to his mouth. “Every night, I wake up, and I’m back lying on the damn barn floor with Sergey’s gun in my face. Over and over again.”
“I’m sorry. Reliving the violence must be hell.” The choices she made to survive Cedarcliff flooded back, and she shuddered as goose bumps erupted on her skin. Since coming home, she hadn’t dared reflect upon the attack, preferring to banish the memories and deny what had happened. Besides, focusing on her physical injuries was more productive than reliving how she got them. She inhaled to ground herself in the present. “Mark, we suffered a terrorist attack. Everyone will be sympathetic to what you’ve gone through.”
“Look, I’m the one who heals people and saves lives, not the other way around, so don’t pity me. You’ve already suffered enough.”
“You’re too hard on yourself. Are you still getting help?” Tess climbed onto the opposite side of the bed and tucked her terrycloth robe around her legs.
“While in the Vancouver hospital, I called my psychiatrist, who recommended I restart medication and avoid being alone. You understand Cedarcliff, which helps.”
Uncertain what to say, she stalled and took a long sip from the water bottle on her nightstand. The cumulative volume of tragedies Mark must have witnessed as a surgeon was staggering. To then endure two terror attacks himself would be devastating. “You’ve healed countless people but the series of traumas you’ve faced…I can’t even imagine.”
“Several doctors quit our Ukraine hospital team because of PTSD, but I swore I’d never be one of the weak ones.” His voice shook, and his right hand formed a fist.
“Christ, you were attacked by terrorists—twice. Bad luck? Terrible luck, but not weakness.”
“I’m an excellent surgeon and can’t afford to lose my career because of my hand or mental state. Maya and Nils are dead; without my work, I’d have nothing left. Unacceptable.”He leaned his head back and stared at the ceiling.
Tess placed a hand on his shoulder. “You’ll recover, but you need time. I haven’t begun to process what happened in Canada, and I was a wreck even before then.”
Mark lifted a single eyebrow and cocked his head. “Are you kidding? You, a wreck? My God, you were fearless and a total badass in Canada. You didn’t shy away from anything.”
The gap between his perception and the reality of her reckless week before the attack flabbergasted her. “The day before Cedarcliff, I was drowning in grief and a total mess. Hours before I flew to Canada, I spent the night at a dodgy London punk club, guzzling vodka tonics like water on a scorching summer day.”
“You’re joking, right?” He lifted a single eyebrow.
“Which part? The club or the vodka? Both are true.”
“Wow, well, punk clubs are hot.” Wearing a sly grin, he rested his hand on hers. “But tell me about the vodka. Sounds like a lot of pain.”
“The anniversary of Kyle’s death nearly crushed me, and I needed to numb my loneliness and forget everything. I was coming unglued, like nothing mattered.” She averted her gaze, embarrassed about her Torque misadventure. “Twelve hours later, I arrived at Cedarcliff.”
