Chapter 12
My eyes blinked open. Tara was kneeling beside me, her hand wrapped around mine. Her face was drawn tight with worry.
“Emily,” she said sharply. “Emily, wake up.”
Her clothes were different, dry, but her hair was damp. She must have just gotten out of the shower.
“What . . . what happened?” My voice came out groggy. I glanced down at my hands. The pig figures were gone. I sat up fast, my heart racing, my eyes shooting to the vanity.
Nothing.
Just an empty surface. The dress and shoes were also gone.
“How is this possible?” I muttered.
Tara steadied me, slipping an arm around my back to help me up.
“Can you walk to the bed?” she asked softly. “Lie down. I’ll grab my phone and—”
“No!” The word shot out of me. Everything felt wrong. The pigs were gone, but the little red dots remained on my hands.
“The woman . . .” I said.
Tara’s expression snapped to something worse than concern. Panic. Like she’d just realized she might be dealing with more than a fainting spell.
“What woman?” she asked.
Shit. No. I couldn’t go there. Couldn’t become the unhinged one, not on day one.
The window behind her showed nothing but darkness. It was evening. Daniel should be back soon. Suddenly, I realized that I hadn’t taken my medication today. No antidepressant. No anxiety pill. Not a single dose of anything.
Still. That shouldn’t cause this. So I had to make something up, anything, just to keep things from blowing up.
“Can you walk over to the bed so I can grab my phone and call Da—”
“No. I’m okay,” I cut in, moving toward the door. I wouldn’t lie down on his parents’ bed. And I wanted to leave the room, to be honest. “I’m fine, really.”
Apparently, she didn’t believe me. She followed close behind. Questions buzzed in my head as I walked down the hallway. Hadn’t Tara seen the woman and the pig statues? What about the open door downstairs? Had it even been open?
I stayed silent.
If Daniel got wind of any of this, he might want to leave. He’d have to give up time here with his family. Ignore his own healing, for me, again. And I really liked it here too.
“I must’ve fainted,” I said, forcing a small laugh.
“God, I’m so stupid.” I scolded myself as if I were a kid caught doing something reckless.
“I’m on blood pressure meds. I have really high blood pressure.
Just like my mom. Runs in the family. The doctor bumped up my dose right before we came here.
Told me not to take it alone. Or standing. And of course, I did both.”
None of this was true. But it was believable. I hated to lie, but it was better than the truth. Whatever that even was.
“Ooooh,” Tara said, her doubt seeming to melt away. She looked at me like I was suddenly normal again. Not crazy. Just a woman who’d taken the wrong dose of her pills.
“What are you on?” she asked.
“Lisinopril,” I said. The lie came easily. My mom had been on it for years, and I’d picked it up for her before.
“I was on that,” Tara replied as she guided me into my room and toward the bed. “My doctor switched me to a calcium channel blocker. If you’re still not feeling right in a few days, talk to your doctor. Tell him you want something else. Or maybe we should just call him now?”
I shook my head, settling back against the headboard and kicking off my shoes before stretching my legs. Tara fluffed the pillow behind me like she’d done this before, probably for her kids.
My hand found hers. “Please don’t tell anyone this happened.”
Her expression faltered. She hesitated.
“I promise I won’t take it again without Daniel here.
Or while standing. I’ll call the doctor tomorrow too.
I just . . . I don’t want him worrying more than he already does.
It feels like that’s all he’s been doing lately.
” My voice cracked slightly. “I want him to focus on his own healing. He’s finally back home.
Here at the Breakers. We need this. We really, really do. ”
Tara held my gaze for a long moment. Then her shoulders dropped. “Okay. Not a word. But you will talk to your doctor tomorrow. Get that dose adjusted.”
“I promise.”
She smiled. “I’ll make some tea and bring the lavender diffuser up here. You just relax.”
I opened my mouth to tell her not to bother, that I’d be fine, but she lifted her hand straight up. She was already bracing for pushback, ready to argue with me like a seasoned mother.
I just smiled. “Thank you. I really appreciate everything you’re doing.”
“It’s nothing. Honestly, it’s nice having life in this house. I don’t mind the quiet. It’s good to get away from my kids constantly needing something or yelling my name.” Her laugh was light. “But it feels good having you here. And Hudson really missed Daniel.”
I nodded.
She tucked a pillow under my knees with the same gentle precision as a nurse. “I’ll be right back.”
Once the door closed behind her, the smile slid from my face. The worry came back fast, tight in my chest.
What the hell was going on?
Of course, I wasn’t on blood pressure meds. I’d passed out while holding pig figurines like the ones in Cynthia’s office. And all of it happened right before I’d started talking to that woman—the one who’d looked like she’d stepped out of a kidnapping documentary. She was angry with me.
My hand trembled slightly as I took in a breath. In through the nose, counting to four. Hold for seven. Out through the mouth, counting to eight.
Four-seven-eight.
I repeated the breathing technique until the panic started to settle.
Maybe it was just the stress with Rascal. Maybe I cracked for a second, just like in Italy. Typical case of PTSD.
Or maybe I’d fainted from too much sun. Plain and simple. And the pigs and the woman were part of my usual waking issues when I was out. One of my parasomnias acting up again, like they had so often before, when I woke up in a state of confusional arousal.
That had to be it. I nodded as I breathed. In for four. Hold for seven. Out for eight.
Outside, I heard the sound of tires on gravel. Daniel and Hudson were back.
I’d tell him I was tired, that I just needed to rest. Reaching over, I grabbed the remote on the nightstand and turned on the TV. I should look relaxed, like I’d just been watching something. Not suspicious. Not shaken. Just tired.
I’d bring up the idea of seeing a new therapist, someone nearby or online. Just to stay on track, I’d say. Just to make sure everything stayed manageable. With rest and the right support, things would be okay.
Breathe in. Four. Hold. Seven. Out. Eight.
I’d be fine.