had to deal with being in public the better.
The curried chicken was even better than he’d expected. The curry flavor didn’t overpower the chicken, and he wolfed down the sandwich, surprised by how hungry he was. He paused when he noticed that Emily had barely taken a bite. He set the apple slice aside, certain there was something on her mind.
It was as if that was the signal she’d been waiting for. She laid down her untouched half sandwich. “You asked that we be friends.”
He didn’t need the reminder. “Yeah. Have you thought about that?”
She nodded. “You mentioned you’d become something of a recluse.”
“What of it?” He didn’t mean to sound defensive, but he didn’t want to delve into the fact he had trouble being around a lot of people. The reasons weren’t apparent, although there was probably some deep psychological reason behind his uneasiness with crowds. One or two he could handle without a problem. He’d challenged himself to go inside the bar and then sat in his car on edge the entire time. It was only when Emily went in that he found the courage to leave his vehicle and follow her.
“I’m willing to be your friend, but I need something from you in return.”
“O-k-a-y,” he murmured, dragging out the word. While he might have sounded like that wasn’t a problem, it just might be.
“I can’t be the only one giving in this friendship.”
She had a valid point. “True.”
“You need to give me something in return.”
He sat up straighter, building an invisible wall between them.
“So,” she said, and seemed to be carefully broaching the subject, “what would you think about taking a walk along the beach later this afternoon?”
Right away he could see them walking along the sandy shore, hand in hand, the wind at their backs while they collected seashells, chased seagulls, and laughed together. That definitely wasn’t going to work. No touching. No kissing. No nothing. He’d promised her that and he wouldn’t go back on his word no matter how hard it was.
“Nick, did you hear me?”
He inhaled slowly. “Yeah, I heard. There a lot of people at the beach?”
“Probably.”
He exhaled. “Not a good idea.”
“Seems to me there were a lot of people at that biker bar.”
What he didn’t tell her was that he felt like he was about to suffocate the entire time.
“You said being around me helped you.”
“It does.”
“Then let me help you.”
“Not like this. You can’t fix me, Em. Don’t try. If that’s a condition of your friendship, then you had best go now.”
She held his look for a long moment. “I went online and read up on PTSD, and I think I know what you’re going through.”
“You don’t,” he flared, and leaped to his feet. He rammed his fingers through his hair to the point of pain as he paced the kitchen. “My brother is dead because of me, because I was too drunk to drive and asked Brad to take the wheel.” His breathing started to falter, coming in short gasps. Nick did what he could to bring it under control. He sat back down and sucked in a breath. His knees started to bounce, which was always the start of his panic attacks. Not another episode. Not now, he pleaded. Please, God, not now.
“Nick, are you all right?”
“No…it would be better if you left.” He didn’t wait; he needed to get away from her. Leaping up, he found a corner in the living room and sank to the floor, covering his head with both his arms, overwhelmed by the memory of watching his brother’s life leave him as Nick held Brad’s battered body. The horror of that moment played like a movie stuck on repeat. Groaning, he started to rock back and forth, lost in the agony of knowing he was the one responsible. It should have been him who died. Not Brad. Not his younger brother.
“Nick…Nick.” Her voice came to him, sounding as though it had gone through a deep underground tunnel.
Nick felt her arms come around him and, God help him, he clung to her, burying his face in her shoulder as she comforted him, speaking softly, running her hands along his back, whispering words of encouragement.
He didn’t know how long they sat like that. Nick released a deep sigh and eased away from her, embarrassed that she’d witnessed his breakdown. Mortified, he couldn’t look at her.
“I wish you’d left when I asked you to,” he murmured, more gruffly than he intended.
When she bit into her lower