“Well, my dad still has PTSD from a lot that happened. Mom has to wake him from these loud, explosive nightmares sometimes.” She shivered. “It’s awful. I’m not saying you have PTSD or anything, just that I know you have to go through a lot as a Marine. And fitting back into civilian life afterward can be very hard.”
It wasn’t just hard. Some days it felt impossible. “I’m doing great.” A damn lie. There were moments when he felt fine. And moments when he couldn’t breathe.
The memories tried to push to the surface, and his heart rate jumped up.
Not now.
Her brows rose, like she saw right through the lie. “Okay. But if that changes, I’m a great listener.”
“Thanks, Addison.”
She gave him a small smile. “Now, I have a couple forms for you to sign.”
She rose and stepped around him toward the printer. He was still breathing too quickly.
What the hell was wrong with him?
He closed his eyes—but realized his mistake immediately when he saw those fucking chains.
A shoulder bumped his.
The chains around his wrists were like steel. Still, he fought them. He didn’t even feel the ache of his bloody wrists anymore. The sharp pain from his broken ribs.
All he could focus on was Boone. His teammate was fighting too, but instead of chains, he was fighting men. Men who’d captured them. Tortured them. The fucking scum of the earth.
A hand suddenly touched his shoulder, and the chains disappeared as he flung the asshole to the floor and wrapped his fingers around his neck.
Noah blinked.
Addie. She was beneath him on the floor, eyes wide, no color in her face. But it was his fingers that he couldn’t look away from.
They circled her neck.
Too tight. Too fucking tight.
He yanked his hands away like her skin burned him. He wanted to ask how she’d gotten there, how they’dbothgotten to this position, but he already knew. And the reality made acid churn in his gut.
“Did I hurt you?” Disgust coated each word. Disgust in himself. That he’d touched a woman like that.Scaredher like that.
She opened and closed her mouth. “I’m okay.” Barely a whisper. “Are you?”
No. He was far from okay.
He shot to his feet. He wanted to help her up too, but she was already pushing to her feet and stepping away.
Why the hell would she want him to touch her anyway? She wouldn’t. She probably wanted to be as far from him as possible.
“I’m sorry.” Sorry? He was fuckingsorry? That wasn’t enough. He’d justassaultedher. He could almost see his fucking fingerprints on her neck.
“It’s okay,” she whispered. “You didn’t mean to.”
His brows drew together. Did she know that because of her dad? Didhehave flashbacks like that?
“Do you want to press charges?” He wouldn’t blame her. Hell, he’d welcome it. It was what he deserved.
Her brows rose. “Charges?”
“I assaulted you, Addison. I can call Jesse—”
