Agony was seeping into my bloodstream with each passing second, its poison heading straight for my heart. “Peachy,” I muttered.
“And Angel?”
Our gazes locked. “I don’t know,” I replied. “This is so much for her.”
“It’s a lot for everyone.”
“I need a word.” I jerked my head and moved down the hall. Dominic followed. “What is it?” he asked, his voice low.
“Angel wants something from me,” I muttered, turning to face him. I crossed my arms. “She wants a distraction.”
Dominic’s eyes flashed with recognition. “She’s seeking out physical intimacy with you.”
Nodding, I crossed my arms over my chest. “I don’t know how to navigate this. She’s a survivor.”
“She’s also a grown woman trying to find some sense of control,” he said softly.
“But what she’s been through—”
“Ash, you don’t know what she’s been through. No one here does, and until she decides to tell someone about it, trying toguess what traumas she endured isn’t going to do anyone any good.”
I stared. “What do I do?”
“Do you want to pursue this? A relationship with her?”
“Of course, but not now—she just found her friend’s body on the beach.”
“Part of PTSD is dissociation, Doss. She wants a distraction. There’s nothing wrong with that. It’s human nature.”
“But—”
He put his hand on my shoulder. “She’s not my patient. You’re my patient. If you’re comfortable, explore this with her. You’re a good man, Ash, and clearly, she can see that.”
I nodded. Fuck, he was right. “Will you let me know when Jake finds something?” I asked, heading back up the stairs.
“Of course.”
I found Angel sitting on the edge of her bed in an oversized dark blue T-shirt. Her hair was dry and shining, hanging around her face like curtains, hiding her from the world. And me. I tapped on the door lightly. Her head popped up, revealing a pair of sad honey eyes and a blotchy face. “Hi.”
My gut twisted.
Were those tears because of Kolby? Or because of me?
“Hey.”
The silence that lingered in rooms after death, in my experience, had never been thick. It never felt toxic or heavy. It lingered in the air like the fading scent of a loved one’s perfume, reminding you that life was fleeting and no matter how hard you tried to hold on, it would slip through your fingers eventually. Pain morphed into anger, anger into numbness, and eventually, scar tissue would form around the empty part of your heart where that person used to reside. It would never disappear. It would never heal. It became a part of you, and you had nochoice but to accept it. For some, it was easy. For others, it was damning.
For my Angel, I hoped it would be a smooth transition.
“I’m sorry.”
The present came rushing back, her room snapping into place, her bright eyes at the very center. They were two suns I needed to spend the rest of my existence orbiting. “You have nothing to be sorry for,” I assured her.
“No.” she shook her head. “I shouldn’t have reacted that way. Putting you in that position, after everything, was uncalled for and so incredibly insensitive. I’m so sorry, Ash.” She stood up, the shirt stopping in the middle of her thighs. “I hope you can forgive me.”
She could set me on fire, and I would forgive her.
“Two things,” I started, coming into the room and shutting the door. “One. Losing someone is damn hard, no matter the circumstances, but the way you found out about Felix was undoubtedly horrific. You were overwhelmed with emotions. Two, bouncing off my first point, don’t ever apologize for coming to me for comfort—”
