“I considered seeing if I could track down any extended family members, but . . . I don’t know.”
“You should.”
She lifted her shoulder. She’d been raised by a father who had seen her as his meal ticket, a pretty object to be photographed and used for financial gain and tossed when she was no longer useful. Her abandonment issues were severe. What were the guarantees that this family that didn’t even know her would even like her?
She had made a family. Rhi, Jia. Everyone who worked for her. Jas.
She inhaled deeply, pulling air into her lungs to calm the prickle of tears at her eyes. She could always use more, though. “I’ll think about it.”
He nodded. “You do that.”
How had they gotten back to her so easily? It was a habit, she supposed, him looking after her. “Can we talk about dinner? About . . .”
Your PTSD.
This testimony everyone was talking about.
Your relationship with your family members.
“I’m really exhausted. Can we not, tonight?”
Her nod was automatic. “Yes. Of course.”
He leaned in close to press a kiss on her cheek. “Do you want to sleep together? I’m too tired to do more, but I’d like to sleep.”
“Absolutely.”
He turned the light off, plunging the room into darkness. They got under the covers, and she moved onto her side, in her usual sleeping position. He curved around her, spooning her.
She tried to shake the sense of something being wrong, but her eyes popped open as a thought occurred to her. “Hey, is this your side of the bed?”
“I can sleep anywhere. I don’t have a side.”
That sounded like absurd talk to Katrina, but she supposed there were some humans in the world who didn’t care what side of the bed they slept on. She craned her neck to look at him. “Are you okay with this position? Do you usually sleep on your side?”
“Are you okay with it?”
“Yes.”
“Then I’m okay with it.” He tugged her close. “I’m tired, Katrina.”
The rebuke was as gentle as it could be, but she got the hint. “Okay, right. Good night.”
“Night.” In a matter of seconds, his breathing deepened and grew heavy.
She stared out into the darkness of the night, stroking her hand over his. In the history of the world, had any woman ever complained about having a partner who was too selfless?
Probably not. Despite that lingering sense of anxiety, she closed her eyes and did what she’d learned to do so well. She fell asleep with her breath matched to his, the heat of his body seeping into hers.
Chapter Twenty-Four
THERE WAS SO much noise, and the sharp taste of sweat and metallic fear in his mouth. He wanted to leave, but he was pinned, cursed to witness the same horrific sequence of events again and again.
Hands on his chest held him down. He had to get away.
He lashed out, kicking and swatting, and it was only when he heard a grunt that his eyes flew open.
He expected to see McGuire’s deceptively boyish round face over his, but that wasn’t the case. Katrina was on her knees next to him, eyes wide.
The bed. The room. He was in the little house, and Katrina was with him.
“Oh God.” Jas sat up and grasped her hands. They were cold in his, which didn’t bode well. “I’m so sorry. Did I hurt you?”
“No, not at all. I shouldn’t have tried to shake you awake. Are you okay?”
He looked around the room, his grandparents’ old master bedroom. The climate was cool here, not hot or arid. Nothing smelled like blood. “Yes.”
“Let me get you some water.”
“That’s okay.”
But she was already clambering out of bed before he could finish speaking. He rubbed his knee through the blanket, but stopped when she came back from the bathroom.
She turned the light on the nightstand on, and sat on the bed next to him. “Does your leg hurt?”
Couldn’t get much past her. “No. Thank you.” He accepted the glass of tap water.
“You were rubbing it.”
“Sometimes it aches when it’s cold out.” Or when he had this dream, where he was shoved back into that horrific night.
“Can I see?”
He didn’t want to show her, but he couldn’t deny her anything, so he shrugged. She flipped the quilt, shoved his sweatpants up, and examined his naked leg.
“It’s ugly,” he said gruffly.
She traced the scars with a feather-light touch. “No, it’s just you.”
He made a deep noise in his throat, and drained the rest of the water.