I’m shocked when he does, because his eyes are red-rimmed and he looks…haunted. The slight shake to his hands tells me there is so much more to him not wanting to stay the night with me, as though, perhaps it’s not about me at all.
“I—” he starts, but pauses and gulps before he tries again, “I’m sorry, Savannah.” He looks so damn lost that all my heartbreak of the morning is forgotten as I move over so that I’m sitting beside him.
I take his hands into mine. “I’m here. Please talk to me—make me understand so that I’m not thinking the worst when you leave me.”
“I want to stay the night with you more than you’ll ever know.”
“I don’t understand. You keep leaving.” My voice trembles.
“I’m frightened of hurting you.” He sighs and lets out a hard breath. “I suffer from PTSD. You know what that is, right?”
“Post-traumatic stress disorder.”
He nods. “Yeah. In the early days, after I lost my lower leg, I’d suffer flashbacks, which would make me feel like the chase and the shooting were happening again. Every time it was mentioned, I’d start to sweat, and my breathing would pick up. Along with those, I’d suffer from nightmares…and still do.”
Hearing him talk, I want to be in his arms so that I can hold him close, instead of sitting at a table holding his hands.
“Is it the nightmares that you don’t want me to see?”
“Yes and no.” He pulls his hands free and starts pacing around the room. “I once had a pretty bad nightmare, when Ryder was staying with me. He tried to bring me out of it, and got a black eye for his troubles.” He meets my gaze. “It would kill me if I laid a hand on you like that…I can’t risk it,” his voice betrays just how much the thought is hurting him.
Every bad thing that I was thinking this morning drains from me, and leaves me feeling a bit guilty for the direction that my thoughts had gone.
Hurrying over to Jace, I wrap my arms around his waist and rest my head against his chest and feel his slight hesitation before he returns my embrace.
“Why didn’t you tell me that was why you didn’t want to stay with me? I’ve been so upset imagining all sorts of things.”
He kisses the top of my head. “I’m sorry. I hate showing vulnerability, and it’s something that I don’t talk about. My family knows because they’ve been with me from day one, but anyone else, not so much.”
“I know, now.” It bothers me that he’s suffering so badly and won’t allow comfort during the night. It begs the question as to what we can do to help him, because surely he isn’t the only person who suffers in this way. “Have you ever talked to someone who can help you? Like a counselor?”
He stays silent, so stepping slightly away from his warm body, I raise my face to his and search his eyes.
“I did. I’m not big on talking, so I escaped after a few sessions…I tried again after the incident with Ryder, but the same—I went to maybe four that time.”
“Do you always come out of a nightmare or flashback with your fists raised?”
“No.”
“Then—”
“Don’t, Savannah. He tried to bring me out of it and I went on the defensive. If I’m lying tangled with you when it happens, I’m not sure how I’ll react.”
So he doesn’t know that he’ll react the way he did with Ryder, he’s just afraid. I need to move slowly with him, but the only way to prove to him that I trust him with my life is to show that to him. But how, when I’m not sure that he’ll cooperate?
He tugs me close, and wrapping myself up in him again, my mind goes numb. I don’t have any experience with PTSD and I have no idea how to help him, but I’m going to find out.
“Jace, do you trust me?”
He pauses in the caress of his hand on my back.
“Yes.” He starts up the caress again.
“Then trust me to show you that you won’t hurt me. It’s been years since the incident with Ryder, right?”
He nods.
“Then, I think that somewhere in your subconscious you will know that it’s me with you, and I trust you.”