“Have you thought about talking to someone?” I ask.
He laughs but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “So many I wish I could get that money back and buy—” He’s interrupted by Allora joining us. She sinks into a chair and grins.
“Breakfast is over. Who’s babysitting me while I work today? It’s going to be a long one.”
“Actually, Courtney is going to be in the room with you,” I say. “I’ll be watching the main entrance, and Chaos will be patrolling all the others.”
She nods. “Okay, I need a shower and then I have a full schedule.”
“You guys go,” Chaos says with a friendly wave. “I’ll take care of the bill and meet you at the ballroom.”
I want him to know we’re going to pick this up again later, but he’s doing something on his phone and Allora’s already chatting about today’s schedule.
Later, I’ll talk to Courtney.
For now, I get to watch my girl work.
And I’m genuinely looking forward to it.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Allora
The rest of our time in Denver is busy. I work long hours photographing the models wearing Alexa’s designs and then get roped into shooting candid shots at the after party as well. Alexa also wants me to shoot her upcoming catalog, something new she’s doing, and it will mean a week in New York, where she’s based. Spending time with friends and industry colleagues is such a nice distraction I almost forget about everything that happened to me.
Almost.
Until I wake up crying early Sunday morning from another nightmare.
But Landon is there, strong arms around me, his voice soothing in the pre-dawn light.
“I’m right here, baby. You’re okay. Breathe. You’re safe.”
“Fuck.” I hiss out the word, angry at myself for being so weak. For not getting past my ordeal even though I know that’s ridiculous.
“It’s okay,” he repeats gently. “This is your brain dealing with the trauma. It will pass.”
“I hate it. I’mfine.”
“You’re not fine.”
“You don’t know what’s going on in my head.” I’m a little salty about all the people telling me what they think I should be feeling or saying or doing. Can’t it just go the hell away?
“Honey, I do know. I thought I was fine after Iraq and I wasn’t.”
“But you lied to your therapist so you could go back to work and you got past it.”
“Yes, but it wasn’t easy. I’m telling you, if Courtney hadn’t intervened, I don’t know what would have happened to me. Honestly, I might be dead.” His voice is firm but sincere, and deep down I know he’s right. I just might not be ready to admit it.
“Talking about it feels like ripping off the band-aid,” I mutter. “We talked Thursday night and I was okay. Why now?”
“You’re starting to deal with it. Just in an unhealthy way.” He strokes my arm. “Tell me about the dream.”
“Ugh.”
“Come on.”
“It wasn’t actually about the rape. At least, not this one.”
