Chapter 2 #3
I lead Yara out of the room and down the remainder of the hallway, over to a window seat at the end of it.
She sits down heavily, like her legs can’t hold her anymore.
Her arms come around her stomach and she hunches over, her gaze fixed on the floor.
Her breaths are still too fast, and I can see her pulse leaping at the base of her throat.
“Yara,” I say, keeping my voice low and soothing, like the counselor I saw years ago used to do. “You’re okay. You’re safe. No one can hurt you. I promise.”
She gives a jerky nod. “I know.”
“Try to take longer breaths,” I suggest. “In for five, hold for five, out for five, hold for five. Keep doing it until your breathing slows.”
Yara shudders. “I know.”
I touch her arm. It’s covered in goosebumps. “Of course you do. But just try it for now, okay? I’ll do it with you.”
For a second, I think she’s going to resist. But then she takes a deep breath. Holds it. Lets it out.
As we breathe together, Yara shifts closer to me, until our legs are touching. She doesn’t pull her arm away from my hand, so I rub her chilled skin, trying to warm it. Gradually, her breathing slows. Her muscles relax. The tight set of her shoulders eases.
While I’m glad to see her panic attack fading, it doesn’t do anything to help the guilt weighing heavily on me.
I should have insisted on following her right away. I should never have let her leave with Winthrop, regardless of how skilled Yara is.
“I’m sorry,” I tell her quietly. “I shouldn’t have waited. It’s my fault—”
Yara’s head jerks up. “What?” She sounds much more alert. More in control. “How is it your fault?”
“You asked for backup. And I waited too long.”
“It wasn’t your fault,” she replies after a brief hesitation. “It was mine. I was so determined… I wanted to do it myself.”
“Do what yourself?”
Her green-gold eyes meet mine. “I saw him drugging my wine. And I decided to play his game. Get the evidence of what he was trying to do and stop him. Show him that I wasn’t some helpless woman—” Yara grimaces.
“But I panicked. Froze up. I couldn’t… The only thing that snapped me out of it was when he touched me.
Then… instinct took over, and I punched him. ”
I’m torn between horror and admiration.
“Did it trigger you?” I ask. “Him touching you? Was that it?”
It makes me feel sick to think about it, but it’s the best explanation I can come up with for her panic attack.
Three years ago, Yara was held hostage in Iran for several months, and while I don’t know the details of her captivity, I know enough about what happened to other women to suspect the extent of her trauma.
Shit, I know she has nightmares. Or she did a year ago, when we stayed at her place. That’s how Yara and I ended up watching TV at night together, taking comfort in each other’s company when our nightmares kept us awake.
Fuck.
Looking into Yara’s tortured gaze, I’m struck by the wildest urge to pull her into my arms. Shield her from all the fucking pricks of the world who would even dare think to hurt her.
“It wasn’t that,” she says softly. “That’s not what triggered me. But it doesn’t matter. I screwed it up. I made a stupid decision and now…”
My heart twists. “No. You didn’t screw anything up.”
“I did. I froze up. I let him get the upper hand.”
“That’s not your fault. If he touched you—”
Yara shakes her head. “No. It wasn’t that. I didn’t like him touching me, but that’s not what—” She stops. Grimaces. “Anyway. You shouldn’t apologize. It was my fault. Not yours.”
“What was it, then?”
Yara goes quiet for a long moment. Then she releases a heavy sigh. “It’s stupid. There was a loud noise in the hallway. And it just… triggered me. I haven’t had something like that happen in almost a year.”
“That’s not stupid. It’s normal.”
“I thought I was doing better.” Her gaze drops to her lap. So softly I almost can’t hear her, she adds, “Now… everyone saw how weak I am. And I’m so ashamed.”
Her words are a kick to my chest.
They’re the same words I’ve thought to myself for years.
But I have good reason to be ashamed. Not Yara. Never her.
Without thinking, I reach for her hand. Her fingers are stiff for a moment, but then they wrap around mine.
Something powerful and electric shoots through me. Something I’ve never felt before.
“Don’t be ashamed,” I tell her. “You have absolutely no reason to be.”
She looks up at me again. There’s so much sorrow in her eyes, my heart aches with it. “I’m not sure about that, Ace.”
My hand tightens around hers. “I’m so sorry he did that to you. I’m sorry I wasn’t there to stop it.”
A smile ghosts her lips. “It could have been a lot worse.” A beat, and then, “Do you think we’ll have enough? To send him to prison? Even though I messed—”
“You didn’t. And yes. I think we will.”
She releases a breath. “Okay. Good.”
I hate how dejected she sounds.
I hate that she’s still hurting and I’m not sure how to fix it.
I hate that badass Tink—and I mean that in the very best way—thinks she has something to be ashamed of because she was triggered.
“Hey.” I nudge her knee with mine. “You’re amazing, Yara. I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it.”
When she doesn’t respond right away, I try a different tack, hoping to cheer her up. “So. BattleBots. Have you heard anything about the new season yet?”
She blinks in surprise. “BattleBots?”
“Yeah. I’m assuming you’re rewatching the old episodes while you wait for the next season?”
Yara stares at me. Then she smiles, and it’s a real one this time. “I am. I’m on season four now.”
“And I bet you’ve come up with at least a dozen mods for the robots that would make them more effective? And possibly sent your ideas to the teams?”
Faint pink colors her cheeks. “Maybe.”
“I thought so. Will you tell me about one of them? The baddest-ass robot idea you had?”
“Really?”
I nod. “Absolutely.”
She goes quiet for a second, thinking. “Well. There’s one robot, it’s a lifter, and it has a wedge in the front to protect itself.
But the wedge is too close to the ground, so it keeps getting caught up on the floor.
If they raise it too much, it’ll leave the bot vulnerable to other lifters and flippers. ”
“But you thought of a solution?” Because of course Yara would. She’s a freaking genius when it comes to robotics. That’s where her nickname came from, after all. Not Tink for the fairy, like people initially assume, but because her teammates always teased her about tinkering with things.
Enthusiasm lights her eyes. “I did. If you lift the main wedge up an inch or two, then add a secondary mobile wedge beneath it, it would adjust to the obstacles on the floor, but protect it from a frontal attack.”
“That’s a great idea, Tink.” And I mean it. It’s one of the things that drew me to Yara: how smart and inquisitive she is. She has plenty of other great qualities, as well, but when she gets talking about her inventions… there’s just this glow she gets. It’s impossible to look away.
“Thanks, Ace.” She flashes me a grateful smile. “For everything.”
My heart squeezes again. “Any time.”