Page 26 of Coming Undone

The urgent whisper woke him after he’d dozed off. Stephanie was still in his arms and quiet for long moments afterward so that he thought he’d just dreamed that she’d said his name.

Muted light from a wall sconce in the hallway filtered through the open door across the bed. He guessed it was around midnight. They’d ordered a pizza a few hours ago and he’d played his guitar until she fell asleep listening to him. It had been the perfect night. He’d told her about his work aboard the U.S.S. Brady and she’d told him more about her time overseas. Not the kidnapping, but the better memories that came before it- meeting locals in the rural parts of the country before she’d travelled into a town held by insurgents.

Now, her hair fanned out along the pillowcase like an inky tattoo. Sleeping in one of his old t-shirts, she lay with one hand tucked under her cheek and the other resting lightly on his bicep. He still couldn’t believe she was here with him after all this time.

“Danny!” Suddenly, she squeezed his arm hard, her eyes flying open to stare at him in the scant light, her body tense.

“I’m right here.” He smoothed a touch along her shoulder and down her back. “You’re safe.”

She blinked a few times, coming more fully awake. Slowly, the tension in her eased. He tucked the blankets around her on one side and tucked her against him on the other.

“Sorry.” She rested her head on the pillow again, a pink daisy earring glinting as she shifted. “Did I wake you?”

“Not really. I’d just closed my eyes.” He tipped his forehead to hers, already imagining what it would be like to wake up to her on a permanent basis. “Did you have a nightmare?”

“No.” Her soft, sleep-husky voice wrapped around him. “Sometimes I startle easily or have little moments of panic. They’re not bad anymore. It probably only happened because I’m sleeping somewhere different.”

Yet she’d called out for him, even in her sleep. A new possessiveness surged through him, making him more determined than ever to show her how good they could be together.

“You want to… talk about it?” He was rough in the sensitive conversation department, but for her, he tried. He’d seen enough guys screwed up by combat in the Navy to know that talking about past traumas was better than stuffing it all down inside and pretending it never happened.

“No. I’ve discussed the kidnapping with a therapist and I’m- solid as I can be with what happened.” Her hand settled on his chest, her fingers skimming light patterns over his skin. “But thank you.”

He searched for something to say, something to take her mind off whatever it was that sent her into panic mode.

“Can I ask you something else then?” He liked the way she touched him, the light caresses straying over his shoulder and down the inside of his arm before jumping back to his chest.

“Mmm?”

“What made you start photographing pets?”

Her touch paused for a moment. Then started again, slower.

“My mother is still upset that I haven’t gotten back to my so-called real job, filming news video,” she began, her frustration evident.

“Hey.” He captured her fingers and brought them to his lips to kiss. “I’m not judging. I think it’s a great career. I’m just curious how you made the switch.”

“You know I got into the news media because I wanted to travel. See the world. Make a difference.” They’d talked about her dreams when they’d met the first time. “But there isn’t much call for objective reporting anymore. The media is so entertainment driven that I didn’t enjoy it.”

“So you left the old job after you wrote your book.” He knew the timeline of that first year after she came home since he’d been keeping tabs on her from a distance. “I remember hearing you volunteered at a counseling center too.”

“My therapist thought it might help. I guess a lot of people are healed by helping others after the kind of ordeal I had, but it had the opposite effect on me. It really brought me down.”

“You’re a sensitive person.”

She shrugged and her fingers resumed their light motion across his chest.

“Maybe that was part of it. But I met a volunteer at the counseling center who brought in therapy animals – cats, dogs, goats, you name it.”

“Cool.”

“One day she brought a therapy donkey – I kid you not, a donkey.” The happiness of the memory was evident in her voice. “Her name was Buttercup and the therapist had an old straw hat that she put on the donkey’s head. It was so cute I had to take a photo.”

“And your talent became evident.” He liked hearing about good things that had happened to her in the last five years. He’d spent so long feeling a burning in his chest every time he thought of her that this new insight soothed some of his old fears where she was concerned.

“Kind of. I liked the photos and when I showed them to the therapist, she asked if she could use them in an advertisement. Soon, I had developed a word-of-mouth business on the side. The more I photographed pets, the more I enjoyed it.” She pressed a kiss against his shoulder. “There is a warmth and acceptance from animals that relaxed me in a way no other form of therapy had. Besides, I was good at it.”

“So you started your own business.” He couldn’t ignore the feel of her lips on his skin, her kiss igniting fresh heat even though he’d planned to let her go back to sleep.

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