My hand found hers. “Please don’t tell anyone this happened.”
Her expression faltered. She hesitated.
“I promise I won’t take it again without Daniel here. Or while standing. I’ll call the doctor tomorrow too. I just...I don’t want him worrying more than he already does. It feels like that’s all he’s been doing lately.” My voice cracked slightly. “I want him to focus on his own healing. He’s finally back home. Here at the Breakers. We need this. We really, really do.”
Tara held my gaze for a long moment. Then her shoulders dropped. “Okay. Not a word. But youwilltalk to your doctor tomorrow. Get that dose adjusted.”
“I promise.”
She smiled. “I’ll make some tea and bring the lavender diffuser up here. You just relax.”
I opened my mouth to tell her not to bother, that I’d be fine, but she lifted her hand straight up. She was already bracing for pushback, ready to argue with me like a seasoned mother.
I just smiled. “Thank you. I really appreciate everything you’re doing.”
“It’s nothing. Honestly, it’s nice having life in this house. I don’t mind the quiet. It’s good to get away from my kids constantly needing something or yelling my name.” Her laugh was light. “But it feels good having you here. And Hudson really missed Daniel.”
I nodded.
She tucked a pillow under my knees with the same gentle precision as a nurse. “I’ll be right back.”
Once the door closed behind her, the smile slid from my face. The worry came back fast, tight in my chest.
What the hell was going on?
Of course, I wasn’t on blood pressure meds. I’d passed out while holding pig figurines like the ones in Cynthia’s office. And all of it happened right before I’d started talking to that woman—the one who’d looked like she’d stepped out of a kidnapping documentary. She was angry with me.
My hand trembled slightly as I took in a breath. In through the nose, counting to four. Hold for seven. Out through the mouth, counting to eight.
Four-seven-eight.
I repeated the breathing technique until the panic started to settle.
Maybe it was just the stress with Rascal. Maybe I cracked for a second, just like in Italy. Typical case of PTSD.
Or maybe I’d fainted from too much sun. Plain and simple. And the pigs and the woman were part of my usual waking issues when I was out. One of my parasomnias acting up again, like they had so often before, when I woke up in a state of confusional arousal.
That had to be it. I nodded as I breathed. In for four. Hold for seven. Out for eight.
Outside, I heard the sound of tires on gravel. Daniel and Hudson were back.
I’d tell him I was tired, that I just needed to rest. Reaching over, I grabbed the remote on the nightstand and turned on the TV. I should look relaxed, like I’d just been watching something. Not suspicious. Not shaken. Just tired.
I’d bring up the idea of seeing a new therapist, someone nearby or online. Just to stay on track, I’d say. Just to make sureeverything stayed manageable. With rest and the right support, things would be okay.
Breathe in. Four. Hold. Seven. Out. Eight.
I’d be fine.
Chapter 13
Daniel was in the bathroom. The water was running, probably while he washed his face with a warm, damp cloth like he did every night before bed.
Mochi was asleep in his travel cage, a large towel draped over the top. He was tucked away on the stool beside me.
I was still in bed from the earlier incident. A laptop rested on my legs as I scrolled, looking for an online therapy provider. This particular site offered both talk therapy with a psychotherapist and medication management with a psychiatrist.
Profile photos and résumés stared back at me from the screen. Everyone looked kind and competent. Gentle smiles. The neutral expression of people who won’t judge you.
