Lifting my hand, I place it on his cheek. “You didn’t fail me, other people did. You never could have known what would happen to me and I don’t want you carrying that guilt around with you.”
He turns his face to kiss the centre of my palm then looks at me again. “It was my job to protect you.” He simply says and I can tell he doesn’t want to speak anymore about it, and I know I’ll never be able to convince him that it wasn’t his fault.
“Anyway, are you ready to head in? I can make you a grilled cheese sandwich?”
The moment he mentions food, my stomach grumbles and the sound of melted cheese and beautifully toasted bread is perfect.
“Lead the way, Mr Sinclair.” I tease, guiding my arm towards the door. “I’ll make you Mrs Sinclair soon enough.” He whispersinto my ear as he passes me and my heart tumbles around like it’s caught in a tornado at the thought of taking this man’s last name.
Three weeks later.
Shooting up from a restless slumber, fear claws at my throat like a deadly creature and I scramble out of the bed, landing heavily on the floor with a thud and crawl backwards into the corner of the room. My back hits the wall and I tuck my head in between my legs as anxiety thrashes around in my nervous system, sending me into a panic overload.
“Ana?” Dean calls out but it isn’t real, it can’t be. I’m trapped again, I can feel the coldness of the dark room seeping into my bones.
“No. No. No.” I chant, over and over. “You’re not real.”
Firm hands grip my shoulders and my body freezes in panic, my fight or flight mode kicking in as a reflex from the touch. I try to scramble away, instead I’m pulled into a firm chest and immediately I’m met with a woodsy scent that seeps its way into my senses.
“You’re okay. I’ve got you.” Dean whispers into my hair, rocking me gently like one would comfort a child.
“Is it really you?” I mumble, tucking my face into the crook of his neck, praying that he’s really here.
“It’s really me. I promise. I’m right here, look at me, show methose eyes that I love so much.” Calmness seeps into his voice and I pull my face away from his neck, tilting up to look at him. A sliver of moonlight seeps in through the curtains, illuminating his strong features in an ethereal glow. The emerald shade of his eyes glows as he looks down at me.
“Keep your focus on me, pretty girl. Listen to my voice.”
Pain lances through my chest as the panic attack fights to take over but I keep my eyes locked on him, using him as an anchor.
“That’s it. Tell me what you smell.”
Breathing deeply through my nose, I try to pinpoint the scents in the air.
“Sandalwood. Vanilla. The rain.”
“Good girl. What can you see?”
My eyes dart around the room. “You. The moon. Raindrops.”
“Well done, now breathe with me. In through your nose and out through your mouth.”
I follow his instructions, inhaling deeply through my nose, allowing the precious air to fill my lungs and wincing slightly at the aching pain in my ribs.
“Take your time baby, slow and steady. You’re doing so well.”
His praise tingles my skin and I follow his breathing exercises again until my body starts to feel calm again.
“Thank you, for that.” I murmur, feeling embarrassed. “I’ve never had that before. I don’t know what came over me.”
Dean tucks a stray piece of hair behind my ear. “You’re suffering from PTSD. I know the feeling all too well, when your mind convinces you that what you’re seeing is real and the flashbacks can be so vivid, it’s scary.”
I remember the way he spoke about his previous job, howthe memories would hit him like a ton of bricks. Flashbacks plaguing his mind every night.
“How do you know how to do the breathing exercises?”
“When I was in the Marines, we had to see a therapist every so often, to talk about the shit we saw. He told me whenever I felt a panic attack coming on, to focus on what I could see, smell and hear. It would allow my brain to focus on something else instead of the fear.”
“Plus, I did a bit of research too whilst you were in the hospital. I needed to know the best way to look after you.”
