Nonstop (Open Skies #3) - Becca Jameson Page 0,20

calling an Uber. Hopefully, she had the wherewithal to place the order.

Bracken was suddenly next to her. He took the phone out of her hand. Gently. “I’ll drive you, baby.”

Her shoulders dropped. All she could do was nod. “Thank you,” she muttered.

“Let me get my shoes.” He left her standing there breathing heavily for only a minute and then he was back. When he set his hand on her shoulder, she flinched, jerking out of his reach. He drew in a breath. “Okay. Let’s go.”

She was shaking as she climbed into his SUV and almost couldn’t fasten the seatbelt. Luckily, he didn’t say a word. He simply waited patiently until it snapped into place. He didn’t speak on the way from his house to her condo either. When they arrived, he got out of his side of the SUV and rounded to her side, waiting as she jumped down.

He walked behind her to the door and took her keys from her shaking fingers to unlock it. There was a small lamp on in the living room. Shayla would be upstairs sleeping.

Bex had no idea what time it was. It didn’t matter. She had nowhere to go and no one to see. Not even Bracken now. He would think she was a freak, and he’d be right. She’d be too embarrassed to see him again. “Thank you for driving me,” she said without looking at him. “I’m sorry about that.”

“No need to be sorry. You have PTSD. There’s no reason to be embarrassed. I get it. I’ve seen it many times. It’s perfectly normal. Try to get some sleep. You’ll feel better in the morning. Call me when you wake up. Okay?”

She didn’t respond. She wouldn’t lie to him, and she wouldn’t call him either. Things would not seem rosier in the morning. They would seem far worse. She knew that for a fact.

She crossed her arms and shivered.

Bracken sighed. “Okay, I’m going to go now. Please… Just call me, Rebekah.” He finally left, shutting the door behind him.

She didn’t move for a long time, listening to his SUV start up and then drive away. She took deep breaths and blew them out as she’d learned to do long ago. It didn’t work, but it helped. Finally, she dragged herself up the stairs and into her room.

After shutting the door with a soft snick, she padded into the bathroom. She didn’t bother turning on the lights. Instead, she removed her dress and bra and pulled a T-shirt over her head. She didn’t even bother washing off her makeup or brushing her teeth. She was exhausted and devastated and climbed into bed, pulling the covers up to her neck.

She wouldn’t sleep. She never slept after a nightmare. She would lie here tossing and turning and reliving the horrors of her past over and over. Except now she could add tonight’s antics to her nightmares. How embarrassing. She groaned as she rolled into a ball on her side and squeezed her eyes closed, imagining what Bracken must think of her.

Sure, he’d said the right words, and she knew he understood better than most people about PTSD, but he didn’t know her story. No one did. Even her parents were barely informed. She wasn’t about to open that can of worms. Never. Not with Bracken or anyone.

This was why she didn’t date. This was why she never should have let herself get involved with Bracken. She couldn’t continue this farce. Pretending she was normal and could have a normal relationship. Ha. She couldn’t even have sex, let alone sleep with someone.

Sure, he could be kind about it for a while, but eventually, it would grow old waking up next to someone who was doomed to never fully relax again in this lifetime.

Nope. It would be kinder to break things off with him now. Sever her ties. Get back on track. But what track was that?

After years of successfully stuffing her past deep inside, she’d started reliving the nightmare night after night thanks to a fucking madman who had to get on her damn flight and take her friend hostage, stirring up old memories and sending her into freefall.

She’d never be able to go back to work. How the hell was she going to make money and survive? She couldn’t think about that right now. She needed to put one of her ten thousand relaxation techniques to work and calm the fuck down.

It would be morning soon. Not that daylight changed her problems, but it