Little Jack (Hell's Handlers MC 6)

Holly sucked in a breath. “What? I had no idea. I knew you served, but how did I not know that?”

“I don’t talk about it much.” He licked a bead of sweat from her back.

“You have PTSD,” she said, and it wasn’t a question.

“I do.”

Beneath him, Holly wiggled. There went his reprieve. He stood, taking her with him and moved them to the couch. Holly lay sprawled on top of him with her chin resting on her stacked hands.

He couldn’t meet her gaze; instead keeping his focus on the unmoving ceiling fan above. Despite how cowardly a move, he just couldn’t stomach seeing pity in her gaze.

“Hey!”

The sharp bark of Holly’s voice surprised him enough to have him looking at her.

Her narrowed gaze burned with intensity. Mouth set in a firm line, she peered into his soul for a moment. “You know it’s nothing to be ashamed of, right? Please tell me you know that?”

He shrugged. Sure, he knew it with his rational brain—the fucking therapist he’d been ordered to see had mentioned it at least three times per session—but that never seemed to matter when he lost his shit in front of another person. And in front of a woman he wanted more than he was willing to admit?

Humiliation coming out his ass.

“I know.”

“But knowing and living it are two different things, aren’t they?”

Christ, she was amazing. So understanding and compassionate. The pity he’d feared?

Absent.

All he saw reflected at him was concern. Maybe a deeper emotion, but he refused to delve too far down that rabbit hole. Sure, he’d told her about his PTSD diagnosis, but he still had no plans of revealing the severity of his nightmares or ever subjecting her to a night sleeping next to him and his unpredictable behavior.

“So that’s what happens?” Holly asked. “A panic attack like you had the car?”

He nodded and fingered a lock of her hair. “It’s called a dissociative episode. I basically shut down, kinda disappear into my mind while simultaneously having a panic attack. I never remember what I do, or say, or how I act.” Same with the dreams. They were just another form of the disassociation. A more severe, frightening form because he tended to lash out violently.

Holly’s forehead wrinkled as she nodded. She appeared to really be taking in what he said and letting it rattle around in her brain. “And today’s episode was triggered by what happened with Higgins?”

LJ blew out a breath. As much as he dreaded speaking of his emotional issues, the burn of embarrassment wasn’t as strong as it had been the few other times he’d opened up. Holly’s presence and supportive reaction made all the difference. The feel of her soft, sated body draped all over him kept him grounded and able to continue talking. “Sort of. The Navy had me see a therapist for a while.” He huffed out a laugh. “Fuck, I hated it.”

She gave him a small smile.

“But it did help. Helplessness seems to be my trigger. Like today, he fucking touched you, propositioned you, threatened you, and I was completely helpless to do a goddammed thing because he could and would have tossed both our asses in jail. I’m a man of action and being hobbled like that fucks with my head.” Talking about it again was enough to have his breathing growing ragged.

Holly pressed a kiss to his chest. “I think you’re incredible,” she whispered.

He snorted. Maybe she was the one who needed a therapist. Delusions such as finding him incredible couldn’t be healthy.

“You’re the one who’s amazing, Holly. One of the things I learned to combat the panic and prevent a full-blown episode if I feel it coming on is to use my senses to ground myself in reality. So I focus on things I can smell, or see, or touch…you get the picture. If I hear a song playing, I sing the words. If something is cooking, I focus on the scent. And my breathing, I always try to concentrate on the in and out to regulate my breaths. Noticing things happening in real-time can help keep me from getting pulled under. You couldn’t possibly know that, yet you had the instinct to touch me and talk to me.”

He pulled one of her hands to his lips, pressing a lingering kiss to her palm “Your sweet voice and your soothing touch made all the difference, sugar. Wasn’t the first time, either. The night that fucker Schwartz crashed the party at the clubhouse, I felt myself slipping. You grabbed my hand, and I focused on the feel of you. You’re my lifeline, baby.”

The admission should have terrified him, but instead, he felt lighter than he had in ages. As though he wasn’t quite so alone in carrying his burdens. He still bore the biggest and ugliest of them, but having Holly in his corner bolstered him in a way he wouldn’t have thought possible from a relationship.