“Shit, Eliana,” he groaned and rubbed a hand over his face.
I pressed my lips together, forcing the words out before the fear could lock them down like it used to. “We weren’t even halfway along the alleyway when we heard yelling. I got a bad feeling, but we had to go forward so we kept going. Then there was gunfire. I remember the sound of it, so loud and sharp, the way the sound echoed against the buildings. Mostly I remember it sounded too close.” The gunshots were the thing I remembered most from the day. “Carlito pushed me to the ground and told me not to move. He covered me and it felt like forever as gunshots sounded from every direction.”
The memory played over and over behind my eyelids, the same as it did most nights. His voice filled with fear but trying to sound confident. His warm hand on my shoulder. The weight of his body protectively covering mine. The smell of gunpowder, blood, and something else swirling in the air. “When it finally stopped, I stayed there, curled up too scared to move. I felt Carlito’s weight pressing on me and I tried to shift. When I got up Carlito rolled over onto his back…” my throat went dry and I stopped talking. Instantly I was back in that damn alleyway. I took a breath and continued, “When I looked at him there was a huge red spot on his t-shirt. Right here.” I placed my palm over my chest. “At first, I didn’t get it, I kept talking to him, urginghim to get up before we got in trouble. I shook him, begging him to stop screwing around. But he never answered even though his eyes were open.”
I closed my eyes and inhaled through my nose, letting it out slowly through my mouth. “I cried and cried because I knew something was wrong. I didn’t know what, but I knew it wasn’t right. And then came the screaming.”
I felt Sledge’s gaze on me, watching silently.
“People came out eventually to see who was screaming. Then cops showed. And EMTs. A paramedic picked me up and carried me away from Carlito. I was suddenly surrounded by people and then the screaming stopped. I don’t remember much after that.” I just remembered the silence that came after and lasted longer than anyone expected.
I let out a small, broken laugh. “I stopped screaming and didn’t say another word until shortly after my eleventh birthday. I didn’t speak, didn’t laugh, did make a peep other than crying into my pillow late at night. My mom tried everything from doctors and specialists, priests, therapists, and even a hypnotist. Nothing worked. Then they took me to Michelle Banks, an expert in her field. She used art therapy to draw me out, but she never pushed or asked me about that night. She asked about Carlito and my family, what I liked to read and to draw. I never answered, of course, but I was answering her questions through my drawings, which I only realized later. One day, I asked if I could try the oil paints.” I smiled at the memory. “I don’t know who was more shocked, me or Dr. Banks.”
“And that’s when you started talking again?”
I nodded. “It was the start of my healing. Some days I’d revert back when the flashbacks were too strong or I’d hear agunshot in the distance or on the TV, but they were short bursts of silence after that.” That healing brought me here. “It’s why I chose this field of study.”
“Shit, Eliana,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry as fuck about that.”
I gave him a weak smile and a shrug, trying to lighten the thick air around us. “It was a long time ago. You don’t need to apologize but thank you. I just want you to know how I understand Zoya. She doesn’t have totellme what happened, not yet. I can see it in her drawings, in the way she looks at the world. She’s not broken. She’s scared. She just needs time.”
He didn’t say anything at first, just sat there staring at the floor. That tense silence stretched out between us like Route 66, long and never ending.
“It killed my mom that I wouldn’t speak and that made me feel guilty on top of everything else. But no matter how much I wanted to speak, I couldn’t.” I watched him but he didn’t give away anything, if he even felt anything. I’d opened up to him, shared the worst thing that had ever happened in my life and he gave me nothing. A giant lump formed in my throat, and I pushed off the bed on shaky legs. “Okay,” I sighed and turned away from him, reaching for my bags.
Sledge stood behind me, yanking the bags from my hand before he walked out of the motel room.
I let out a long breath and stood up. Telling the story of what happened to my brother never got any easier, but now it was out there, and I didn’t have to explain again. I wasn’t sure why Sledge didn’t ask any questions. But maybe he didn’t want to pry.
We drove back in silence. I watched the scenery blur out the window and bit back the tears that threatened to fall.
Maybe Sledge wasn’t the type to offer comfort or kind words. I liked the fact that he said what was on his mind and didn’t sugarcoat anything, but right now all I wanted was a hug. But it was fine. There was no need to dwell on why it hurt so much, that part didn’t matter. All that mattered was that I did what I could to help Zoya while I could.
Chapter Eleven
Sledge
Iwas an asshole. Eliana’s words, her life story, plagued me from the moment she pushed them out in that motel room. Her story had hit me like a fucking freight train. I’d wanted to say something, hellanything, but my tongue had betrayed me. What the hell was I supposed to say? Sorry seemed like a sorry fucking excuse of a word in the face of what she’d experienced.
I knew better than most just how little sorry helped when tragedy struck. I’d seen some shit, really ugly shit as a SEAL and I’d done some terrible shit too, but the image of Eliana as a little girl covered in her brother’s—her best friend’s—blood, screaming until she fell silent forthree fucking yearsrefused to leave me.
I hadn’t handled it well. Not at all.
Especially as all these weeks I’d been thinking she was some fucking do-gooder trying to pry into my business and silently blaming me for my daughter’s silence.
Instead she’d been trying to help because she knew what was going on in my little girl’s mind. I knew I needed to fix it, especially now that she’d be living in my house, and I would fix it.
Rebel and Nikki had already fed Zoya dinner by the time we got home. Eliana disappeared off to the kitchen, no doubt trying to get away from me. I was torn between tryingto apologize to her and checking in on my daughter. From the hallway, I could hear laughter. It was light, sweet, and so damn rare I almost didn’t recognize it. I stopped just outside Zoya’s bedroom door and leaned against the frame, watching. Listening.
Zoya and Olivia sat cross-legged on the bed, crayons scattered everywhere. Olivia sang something I didn’t know, loud and proud, and surprisingly beautiful, while Zoya clapped along, her small face glowing with joy. She looked like a regular kid for once instead of a haunted little girl.
Olivia turned and caught me staring. She blushed mid-verse and smiled.
“You sound good, Liv. Really damn good.”
Her smile brightened. “Thanks, Uncle Sledge.” She turned back to Zoya and wrapped her in a hug. “Thanks for a fun night, Zoya. See you later, I hope.” She paused a beat as Zoya hugged her back before she pulled back, waving as she left the room.
“Back in a moment, sweetheart,” I said and went to show out Rebel, Nikki, and Olivia. When I returned, I couldn’t help but smile when I saw my daughter. She looked relaxed and happy instead of worried and tense. Her shoulders weren’t bunched up and there was a lightness about her that only came around once in a while.
