59. Chapter Fifty-Nine
Chapter Fifty-Nine
Kat
Henry stood. I knew he needed to go. I was honestly surprised he came to see me between practices, when he had so many other things to do. I stood to see him out, maybe get another little hug from my wildly disheveled driver. Fuck, I loved seeing him like this.
But unfortunately, I couldn’t see him like this in other circumstances.
I couldn’t see him fall apart.
Because I couldn’t handle it.
I didn’t think I hated my PTSD outside of an attack more than I did in that moment.
But I got my hug, before we opened the door. I wrapped my good arm around his middle, loving how it felt when he folded around me. Safe. Always safe.
But he pulled my chin up to look at him.
“Baby girl, you look exhausted,” he said, that little crease appearing. I shrugged.
“I stayed up getting everything done. I’ll sleep well tonight,” I lied. I would sleep, at least. Probably. But not well. Never well. Well, not without him. I hated that.
I needed to be able to sleep by myself. I couldn’t—WOULDN’T—be that kind of woman. Trauma or no.
“So, are we done pretending that night was the START of things?” he asked softly, hesitantly. I sighed. I hated that that’s what it seemed like.
“We both know it’s not,” I replied, not exactly answering. He paused.
“That’s not what I asked, Kat,” he murmured. I looked back toward my table. Why had I gotten up? I could’ve just let him leave.
Oh, yeah.
Sweaty, horny, yummy hug.
Worth it.
“I’m not pretending anything, okay? I… I just can’t think beyond it. It’s taking up too much space right now. And I’m working on it with Liz, I AM. I’m just… struggling,” I admitted, hoping I wouldn’t regret it. He pulled me back into a hug, not responding right away. Instead, he pivoted.
“If I bring you some tea later, will you take it?” he asked softly. I nodded. He smiled.
“If I bring you something to eat later, will you eat it?” he asked again. I gave him a look.
“Henry, you don’t have time for that. You have SO many things to do today. I am FINE. I’ll eat. I promise,” I insisted. He didn’t look inclined to believe me. I glanced down at my feet.
“I’m trying,” I mumbled. He sighed.
“I know, sweetheart. I know you’re trying,” he responded, hugging me again before opening the door.
I really was trying.
Just again, it wasn’t enough.
I had tons of work to do, still. I knew getting the sensors installed and mostly working correctly was an excellent start. But I still hadn’t updated their system enough for the data from my software to integrate into said system. And without that, all that data had nowhere to go. It was useless.
That hit a little too close to home, today.
So, I kept working. Slowly, because damn if my body didn’t hurt after skipping an entire night of sleep. Even as shitty as my sleep had been, recently.
I knew what I’d said. So, I got some toast. I just didn’t know how to explain to Henry that just because I ate with him, the eating wasn’t really the problem. Almost every time, the food I ate with him came back up.
But I dutifully ate my toast. Because I WAS trying. I wanted to feel better. To get better. To figure out a way I could live this life in a HAPPY way, and not just muddle through.
But I just didn’t know how it was possible. Donovan’s words kept echoing through my mind every time I wasn’t fully engaged with something.
Not sleeping hadn’t been a hard ask.
My nightmares would be… awful. After that conversation. And I wanted so, so badly to tell Henry.
To let him in, like he’d asked.
To share the heavy load.
But he’d screamed at the police and gotten himself arrested when I’d simply been kidnapped.
And a part of me wished they’d held him. Because then he wouldn’t have been able to come for me.
I would ruin his life if I was taken again. Tortured. Assaulted. Broken.
I wouldn’t let myself be taken. But, I wouldn’t let him be broken along with me on the off chance I couldn’t see it coming.
So, I worked. And worked. Because if I was working, I wasn’t thinking. But four hours of sleep after burning ten thousand calories I couldn’t afford was over thirty-six hours ago. And I was so, so tired.
I laid my cheek down on the table, just for a moment. Just one second of rest, and I’d get back to work.
Crack! Then screaming, echoing through the warehouse. And it wasn’t mine. It wasn’t mine.
But I did scream. I screamed and screamed the worst things I could think of, just to get his attention on me. Just to get him to drop the whip.
Please, please drop the whip.
Please.
He raised it again, and I screamed. No words, this time. Just pure fucking terror. He was just turning toward me when-
“Kat, are you okay? Wake up, Kat,” I heard urgently in my ear. I wasn’t sure where I was. My pillow was ridiculously hard. Harder than my warm hard pillow usually was.
Because it wasn’t my warm hard pillow.
It was a table.
I slowly sat up, very slowly processing that it was Andy talking to me. My brain was so fuzzy. I was so tired.
I wiped my eyes, not fully surprised to find them wet with tears. I turned my head to look at Andy, even as the room took a second to catch up.
“Kat, you screamed. Are you okay? You were just asleep, right? It was a nightmare? Or did something happen?” he asked quietly, briefly glancing back at the cluster of four or five worried looking mechanics in the doorway. I blinked, processing not fully happening just yet.
But then ‘you screamed’ sank in. And a jolt of terror burst through me.
“What did I scream?” I asked, my voice trembling. He gave me a confused, slightly wary look.
“Nothing, just a scream, why?” he asked gently. I shook my head.
“Oh, thank fucking God. Okay yeah,” I responded, coming back to myself a little. I shook my head, clearing it a little more, then raised my voice.
“Sorry, guys, just a nightmare! Stress gets to me sometimes, you know how it is,” I said lightly, nonchalantly, the right amount of sheepishly. The little group dispersed with mumblings of ‘you scared us, Grace’ and ‘get some sleep, Grace’.
Andy turned to leave, but paused in the doorway. I waved him off. I was fine.
And I got back to work.