Nothing. She's trapped somewhere I can't reach. Whatever she's running from in there, I can't fight it for her.
I say her name again. Louder. She doesn't hear me.
Six hours ago, she shoved me away, called me an asshole, and looked at me the way she'd look at one of the men who hurt her.
But she's drowning in there. And I can't just watch.
I sit on the edge of the bed and take her shoulders—gentle but firm.
"Eden. Wake up. You're safe. I've got you."
She comes awake swinging.
Her fist catches my jaw—not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough to tell me she's fighting for her life. The second blow aims for my throat, and I catch her wrists before it lands, holding them carefully in my hands.
"Eden. Look at me."
Her eyes are open but not seeing. Pupils blown wide, looking right through me.
"It's Diesel. You're in the cottage. You're in Georgia. You're safe."
She takes a breath—ragged, tearing—then another.
Her eyes find mine. Focus.
"Diesel?"
My name comes out broken.
"I'm here. It was a nightmare."
She stares at me. At my hands around her wrists.
I let go. Fast. The last thing she needs is to wake up restrained.
She looks at the darkness of the room, the sheets tangled around her legs, and then at me.
Then she moves.
Not away. Toward.
Her hands fist in my shirt and she crashes into me—face against my chest, body shaking, fingers white-knuckled in the fabric. I go rigid. Six hours ago she told me exactly what she thought of me.
But she's not pushing me away. She's holding on.
"Do you want me to go?"
Her fingers tighten in my shirt. "No." The word is muffled against my chest. "Please. Don't go."
Everything in me says to leave, to protect us both from whatever this is becoming.
I stay.
Slowly, carefully, I put my arm around her.
She sinks into me. Her head against my chest, her body still trembling, the gasping breaths slowing down.
I don't know how long we sit there. Long enough for the shaking to stop. Long enough for her breathing to steady. Long enough for her to pull back and look at me with swollen eyes and a blotchy face and tears still wet on her cheeks.
