Legacy (Steel Brothers Saga #14) - Helen Hardt Page 0,15

college, though. Once was while we were at my ranch.”

“Did she tell you about it?”

“Briefly. She doesn’t remember it. She only knows she’s afraid, but she wakes up and can’t remember why.”

“Dr. Payne thinks it’s her subconscious remembering the assault,” Jonathan said quietly.

“Could I talk to Dr. Payne? If Daphne’s my responsibility now—”

Jonathan stopped me. “You can’t. Daphne’s over eighteen now. You’d need her permission to talk to her doctors or access her records. Even Lucy and I can’t at this point.”

“What about after we’re married?”

“Still no, unless you get Daphne’s written consent. Adult medical files are private.”

Damn.

Damn, damn, damn.

“Is it possible that she’ll remember the incident?”

“Memory can come back, but Dr. Payne doubts it.”

“What if she needs to remember? What if the only way she’ll be able to stop the nightmares is to deal with what happened to her?”

“Lucy and I talked to Dr. Payne at length about that before Daphne turned eighteen. It’s a tough call. Would you want to tell your daughter she’d been beaten and raped by three men? That her best friend committed suicide because of it?” He shook his head. “I can’t do it. I just can’t.”

“I understand. I’m not sure I could either.”

“Dr. Payne feels the nightmares will eventually go away. In fact, we thought they had.”

“Like I said, it’s only been twice in the last month.” Twice that I knew of, anyway.

He nodded. “I can’t tell Lucy about the nightmares. Not right now.”

“I get it.”

“Daphne is still on our health insurance, but once you two get married…”

“She’ll be covered. My father has an excellent policy for everyone at the ranch. She’ll be covered as my wife.”

He nodded. “Good. Daphne needs coverage.”

“Coverage for what?”

Daphne stood in the doorway.

Chapter Twelve

Daphne

“Hi, sweetheart,” my father said.

“Hey, baby.” From Brad.

“Coverage for what?” I repeated.

Dad cleared his throat. “Brad and I were just discussing his health plan at the ranch. Once you’re married, you’ll be covered.”

“Oh.” Of course I needed coverage. Who knew when I might go crazy again? That was what my father was thinking. He would never say it, but that was where his mind was. What he didn’t know was that I’d never lose it again. I was determined. I’d fainted twice in the last month at school. When I got anxious, I tended to hyperventilate. I was also determined that wouldn’t happen again. I needed to keep my health. I couldn’t let my little dove be deprived of oxygen.

I’d be okay.

I knew it.

For my little dove.

I had to be.

My father stood. “I’m going to take a quick shower. Then we’ll go see your mom.”

I nodded. I wanted to see my mother, but I hated the idea of going to the hospital. Would she end up in the same facility where I’d spent most of my junior year? And then I’d have to visit her there?

Ugh. I couldn’t deal with that thought at the moment.

Brad smiled and patted the spot beside him. “Sit down, baby.”

I returned his smile, even though I wasn’t feeling it, and sat next to him. The warmth from his body seeped into me, comforting me.

“Do you want me to go with you to see your mom?”

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to do what you need me to do. If it’s easier if I’m not there, I understand.”

I sighed. This wouldn’t be easy no matter what. My father would be there, but my father was no longer the most important man in my life.

The man sitting next to me was.

And always would be.

“I can handle it on my own,” I said.

He took my hand. “That’s not what I’m asking. I don’t doubt that you can handle it. Do you want me there?”

“Yes. Yes, I want you there.”

“Then I’ll be there.” He stood. “I need to take a quick shower as soon as your dad is out. We won’t be long.”

I nodded as he walked back into the house.

Alone on the deck.

I’d spent hours out here last year. God knew I didn’t have any friends to hang out with. That was the great thing about college. I’d chosen a small and very exclusive school in Denver where no one else from my senior class went. I’d gotten in on a full scholarship due to my test scores and GPA, but no doubt also in large part because of the essay I’d written about my rise from mental illness.

I liked to write.

Maybe Brad was right. I should pursue a career in writing. But what would I write? A personal statement about the horrors of