“Sera?” Brady’s voice rips me from my thoughts. “You promised you wouldn’t hold back again. That if you were having a problem, you’d tell?—”
“I’m not.” I snap.
I don’t need a reminder that I didn’t ask for help or let anyone know when my ex-boyfriend became abusive and stalked me. I had wanted to handle it on my own—not be yet another woman who expected my brother to save them.
Look how well that turned out.
My eyes find the spot where the wall meets the ceiling and focus on it as I take a deep breath.
Brady is concerned because he loves me, I remind myself. Intellectually I know that, but I’m tired of him treating me like I’m mentally fragile.
And he doesn’t even know about…
I take another breath trying to stem my growing irritation. I need to get away before I say something I’ll regret.
“See you in a bit,” I say, before rushing away. Shutting the locker room door, I lean my head back and let out a heavy breath.
See? Progress. I didn’t take his head off.
Won’t Dr. Swan be proud.
Making a face, I push off the door. Therapy was the last thing I wanted to do, but Brady gave me an ultimatum a few months ago. Either I start therapy or find somewhere else to work. My mood was affecting the team.
Shame washes over me. I know Brady would gnaw his arm off before willingly hurting me. His saying something so drasticfinally pulled the blinders from my eyes about how much I was hurting him.
It showed how much I still needed to deal with what happened with Aaron.
It's not that I love working for Elite Security. I’d fallen into the job at my brother’s company because he’d needed help early on, and later, I was part of the apparatus that morphed from Worthington Investigations into Elite Security. I was competent at what I did. But it wasn’t the threat of losing my job that had my stomach cramping in regret. It was knowing just how far I must have pushed my brother to bring him to that point.
Testing that the water isn’t too hot, I step under the shower spray. I miss scalding hot showers, but my damaged skin is too sensitive to them now. The scars aren’t as rough as they once were under my fingers as I rinse off—thank you, vitamin E oil—but the shiny skin along my collarbone and shoulder isn’t going anywhere. It will always be a reminder of what Aaron did.
The edges of the skin graft are mostly flat, and I’ve been told a thousand times it’s not that noticeable anymore. I don’t need a mirror to visualize the lines that trail up my neck in faded, pearly streaks, easily covered with makeup now, if I choose. But I’ve been doing it less and less lately.
Huh. Maybe the therapy works after all.
The damaged skin looks almost normal now.
My head drops as I hit the round nozzle to turn off the shower.
I huff out a breath.
Almost normal.
Now, if only my body would get the memo that I’m healed.
I zoneout during the weekly wrap-up meeting back at Elite headquarters. The assignments the rest of them are discussing and the logistics involved don’t really apply to me. Other than rare occasions, I primarily do research on clients—dossiers, financial reports, etc. It’s not a terrible job, and my brother pays me more than the position calls for. If he wants to throw some extra money at me under the guise of an inflated salary, then I’m all for it.
It’s not like I spend money on much these days, other than takeout.
The meeting breaks up, and when we all exit, I see Elizabeth waiting for Brady. His face lights up, and he wraps his arms around her with an expression I hadn’t seen on my brother’s face before he met the stunning entertainment lawyer. Now, it’s an expression I see more often than not.
A familiar twisty feeling spreads through my chest, and I force myself to ignore it. It’s ridiculous to be jealous. Not that I’m jealous because she’s with my brother, but of what they have. Something I may never have now if my body and brain can’t remember to respond like a normal woman.
“Hey, Elizabeth. You’re done early today.” I give her a welcoming smile.
She pushes her hands against Brady’s chest, and he reluctantly releases her. Her face is slightly flushed, her eyes sparkling. Elizabeth is a different woman than the one I met last summer when she came to us for help.
“Yeah, my last appointment of the day cancelled, so I thought I’d see if this guy wanted to do a spontaneous weekend away with me.”
