Chapter 24
Seeing the cabin come into view from Dean’s truck has my bottom lip trembling and I desperately want to tangle my fingers together.
The white cast wrapped around my wrist and hand stares back at me, taunting me like a sick joke.
I try not to let the horrors of my time in captivity infiltrate my mind but sometimes it’s hard, and they easily slip through the gaps.
Dean’s hand on my thigh knocks me out of my daydream. “We’re home baby.”
Home. It’s been a long time since I’ve been home. It almost feels surreal, like I’ll wake up and I’ll be on the damp floor of the bunker, fighting for my life.
Turning in my seat, I give him a small smile and wait for him to pull up at the side of the cabin.
Once the engine is off, he grabs our bags from the back seat then proceeds to open my door, opening his hand for me to take and like it’s second nature, I slip my uninjured hand into his and step down onto the gravel floor, feeling a sense of similarity wash over me.
“Everything okay?” Dean asks with a concerned look in his eye and I lift my head to meet his gaze. “I’m alright, just a little nervous that’s all. Everything feels like a dream and I’m scared that none of this is real and I’ll wake up back at the mill.”
Admitting my fears to him eases the tension I have in my shoulders but it doesn’t take the full worry away. Dean drops the bags at our feet and runs both of his hands into my hair, cupping my face in a gentle embrace.
“I won’t let anything happen to you, ever again,” he promises. “I failed the first time. I should have been there and I was too late, and that will always be my biggest regret.”
Does he really think he failed me? That he could have known Ellie would be the one to rat me out to my husband, well, dead husband now.
I’m officially a widow. Free from my chains.
Lifting my hand, I place it on his cheek. “You didn’t fail me, other people did. You never could have known what would happen to me and I don’t want you carrying that guilt around with you.”
He turns his face to kiss the centre of my palm then looks at me again. “It was my job to protect you.” He simply says and I can tell he doesn’t want to speak anymore about it, and I know I’ll never be able to convince him that it wasn’t his fault.
“Anyway, are you ready to head in? I can make you a grilled cheese sandwich?”
The moment he mentions food, my stomach grumbles and the sound of melted cheese and beautifully toasted bread is perfect.
“Lead the way, Mr Sinclair.” I tease, guiding my arm towards the door. “I’ll make you Mrs Sinclair soon enough.” He whispers into my ear as he passes me and my heart tumbles around like it’s caught in a tornado at the thought of taking this man’s last name.
Three weeks later.
Shooting up from a restless slumber, fear claws at my throat like a deadly creature and I scramble out of the bed, landing heavily on the floor with a thud and crawl backwards into the corner of the room.
My back hits the wall and I tuck my head in between my legs as anxiety thrashes around in my nervous system, sending me into a panic overload.
“Ana?” Dean calls out but it isn’t real, it can’t be. I’m trapped again, I can feel the coldness of the dark room seeping into my bones.
“No. No. No.” I chant, over and over. “You’re not real.”
Firm hands grip my shoulders and my body freezes in panic, my fight or flight mode kicking in as a reflex from the touch. I try to scramble away, instead I’m pulled into a firm chest and immediately I’m met with a woodsy scent that seeps its way into my senses.
“You’re okay. I’ve got you.” Dean whispers into my hair, rocking me gently like one would comfort a child.
“Is it really you?” I mumble, tucking my face into the crook of his neck, praying that he’s really here.
“It’s really me. I promise. I’m right here, look at me, show me those eyes that I love so much.
” Calmness seeps into his voice and I pull my face away from his neck, tilting up to look at him.
A sliver of moonlight seeps in through the curtains, illuminating his strong features in an ethereal glow.
The emerald shade of his eyes glows as he looks down at me.
“Keep your focus on me, pretty girl. Listen to my voice.”
Pain lances through my chest as the panic attack fights to take over but I keep my eyes locked on him, using him as an anchor.
“That’s it. Tell me what you smell.”
Breathing deeply through my nose, I try to pinpoint the scents in the air.
“Sandalwood. Vanilla. The rain.”
“Good girl. What can you see?”
My eyes dart around the room. “You. The moon. Raindrops.”
“Well done, now breathe with me. In through your nose and out through your mouth.”
I follow his instructions, inhaling deeply through my nose, allowing the precious air to fill my lungs and wincing slightly at the aching pain in my ribs.
“Take your time baby, slow and steady. You’re doing so well.”
His praise tingles my skin and I follow his breathing exercises again until my body starts to feel calm again.
“Thank you, for that.” I murmur, feeling embarrassed. “I’ve never had that before. I don’t know what came over me.”
Dean tucks a stray piece of hair behind my ear. “You’re suffering from PTSD. I know the feeling all too well, when your mind convinces you that what you’re seeing is real and the flashbacks can be so vivid, it’s scary.”
I remember the way he spoke about his previous job, how the memories would hit him like a ton of bricks. Flashbacks plaguing his mind every night.
“How do you know how to do the breathing exercises?”
“When I was in the Marines, we had to see a therapist every so often, to talk about the shit we saw. He told me whenever I felt a panic attack coming on, to focus on what I could see, smell and hear. It would allow my brain to focus on something else instead of the fear.”
“Plus, I did a bit of research too whilst you were in the hospital. I needed to know the best way to look after you.”
His admittance warms my soul and tears fill my lower lids. “Thank you, for everything.” I say, trailing my index finger over the swirling tattoos around his neck.
“You don’t need to thank me. I want to do this. I always will, baby.”
Dean scoops his arm under my legs and lifts me from the floor, gently laying me back down in the soft bed, the pillows comforting my head as he pulls the sheet up over my arms then climbs in behind me, wrapping his arms around me in a protective cocoon.
“Get some sleep baby, I’m right here.”
The next morning the sun breaks through the clouds, beaming a warm glow across the room and I stretch my aching limbs, feeling a delicious body heat behind me. Turning over onto my side, I find Dean still fast asleep, his plump lips parted slightly as he takes in small breaths.
I can’t resist the temptation to run my finger across his brows and down the bridge of his nose, then over his beard towards the nape of his neck where my fingers tangle into his now longer hair.
Onyx waves splay across the pillows, a stark difference to the bright white.
Keeping my touch light, I coax the tip of my finger down the swirling ink that’s beautifully painted across his neck and down onto his chest, finding various art pieces.
All of them filled with intricate details covering his sun kissed skin.
My eyes land on one that looks a lot fresher than the rest, the skin still slightly raised on his chest. A pair of detailed blue eyes stare back at me, almost like I’m looking in a mirror.
Are those?
“Those are your eyes mama.” Raspiness hits my ears from his deep morning voice and my hand hovers over the beautiful ink.
“When did you get this?” I whisper.
His Adam’s apple bobs before he speaks. “A couple of days after you went missing. I.. I needed something to focus on, even just for a little bit.” His voice cracks as he speaks and I can hear the anguish that’s slicing through it. “I needed the pain.”
“It’s beautiful.”
“You’re beautiful.” He throws back, taking my chin in his hands and lifting to meet my gaze. “I could happily drown in those oceans.”
The deep baritone of his voice washes over me, sending a tingling sensation down my spine.
“I also have something to show you, if that’s alright?”
“And what might that be?” Tipping my head to the side.
“Get your fine ass out of bed and I’ll show you.” He teases, giving my nose a quick kiss before rising out of bed in nothing but a pair of tight, black boxer shorts. The sight alone has my mouth watering. He slips a pair of shorts on and stands by the door frame, looking over his shoulder at me.
“You coming, pretty girl?”
Dean waits for me in the hallway as I pull on some of his pyjama pants to go with his t-shirt that I’m wearing, then I pull my hair into a messy bun and leave the bedroom, finding him standing outside the spare bedroom door with his arms crossed against his bare chest, his shoulder leaning on the wooden door frame.
“What do you want to show me?” I ask, looking up at him.
“Turn around for me.”
I do as I’m told and spin on my bare feet, my back now facing his chest and quickly, what feels like a silk tie covers my eyes, blocking out my vision. On instinct I lift my hands, feeling the material covering my eyes.
“You trust me baby?” He says with such gentleness and I nod my head. “I trust you.” With that I hear him turn the door handle and open the door. The smell of wood and fresh paint hits my nose as we step into the room. My feet meet the plush carpet and I wiggle my toes into the soft fibres.
“Can I look now?”
Dean chuckles behind me as he walks me further into the room. “Not yet mama, just a second.”
Once he’s placed me where he wants me, he releases my shoulders and begins to untie the blindfold but I keep my eyes closed for a moment before slowly opening them and it’s nothing like I could have ever imagined.