In Name Only (Pine Falls #2) - Jennifer Peel Page 0,35

about giving birth in warm water, I heard my name being frantically called. I looked up to find Brock in a state of panic, throwing the comforter off the bed, searching for me. When he didn’t see me, he ran a hand through his hair, his chest heaving as if he couldn’t catch his breath.

Standing, I rushed toward the terrace door and threw it open. “I’m here.”

Brock sank to the floor and leaned against the bed, taking gulps of air.

I ran around and knelt near him, shaken by his reaction but not surprised. He’d been through too much, and as much as he’d been trying to act as if he had it all under control, trauma always had its say. It would always demand to be dealt with.

I took his clammy hand. “Brock, look at me.”

His head turned toward me. The panic in his eyes was replaced by embarrassment. “I’m fine,” he was quick to say while he tried to pull away from me.

Refusing to let go, I cradled his hand and let it fall into my lap. “You’re not, and that’s okay. No one expects you to be.”

“You know that’s not true,” he scoffed.

I thought about his father, and even the nation, who seemed to be celebrating his triumphant return and making assumptions about his life. Our life. Not that we hadn’t fueled the misconceptions. “I don’t expect you to be,” I amended my comment.

His face softened. “You don’t need to worry about me or start leaving pamphlets around for me to read about PTSD.”

I smiled, thinking about all the pamphlets I had gotten from my friend, Dr. Morales. In my opinion, she was the best therapist in Colorado. She had certainly helped Ariana deal with her past trauma, and she had helped me face my own demons created while I was in foster care. If only I could confide in her now. “Fine. I’ll just give them to you.”

“It’s not necessary,” he half growled.

“Humor me.” I wasn’t going to let him off the hook.

“I’ve passed all my evaluations, and I’ve been cleared to go back to work part time,” he said, as if that would put an end to our conversation.

“I’m sure you have. You know exactly the right things to say and do.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m fine, Dani.”

My eyes drifted toward his bare shoulders, which were scarred by red, angry marks. I’d caught a glimpse of his back earlier and it was more of the same. I assumed his captors had caned his back, but he never spoke of it. He silently bore his emotional and physical scars.

“If you say so.” I patted his hand and let it go. I began to stand, planning on returning to the terrace and my book, but stopped when Brock placed his hand on my thigh as if asking me to stay.

“What are your plans for today?”

I sat back down. “Your mom mentioned something about lunch and shopping before the family dinner tonight.”

Brock cleared his throat. “How would you feel about spending the day with me instead? I was hoping to show you around some of my old stomping grounds.”

An unmistakable shot of hope surged through me. It frightened me more than anything. “I’d love to. Do you think your mom will understand if I cancel on her?”

Brock grinned. “I think she was counting on it.”

“When do you want to leave?” I found myself anxious to start the day and feeling more energetic than I had in a long time.

“As soon as we’re ready.”

I was ready. Ready to start my life with Brock.

~*~

I strung my arm through Brock’s as we strolled his old high school campus where he had attended school when his dad was a senator. It was an historic private institution that acted as a boarding school or day school for those children who lived close by, like Brock’s family had. The campus was stunning, with white brick buildings adorned with green shutters, cobbled pathways, and what seemed liked millions of trees. Yellow and red leaves littered the pathway and landed among the hundreds of gold chrysanthemums. The smell of roasted coffee beans and hazelnut wafted in the air from the campus coffee shop. It was perfectly autumn-like. And, thankfully, didn’t make me nauseated. In fact, I was less sick today than I had been in weeks. I wondered if my morning sickness had more to do with my aching heart.

Brock seemed different here—more at ease. He placed his hand over mine, which tightly held