Page 3 of Static

Then it got worse.

I was hitting Trent with a pan I was holding, screaming at my children to run as Trent charged me like an angry bull. The pain and gut-wrenching fear was swallowing me whole as I stood there in the Arizona sunshine.

You're safe. They're safe. Trent's dead.

It was a mantra inside my head as I clutched my children close to protect them. I never knew what was going to set me off, and this was a particularly bad reminder of both my ex trying to kill me and the Italian Mafia almost killing Static. The buzzing in my ears kept me from hearing much as I hurried the kids toward the clubhouse. I could see Sean's mouth moving, but I wasn't able to make out the words. All I could hear was Jordan's voice as she reached my side in that kitchen. The sound of the fighting as she tried so hard to protect me from Trent.

My best friend had put herself in danger to keep me and my kids safe. She'd ended up in the hospital right next to me, though she managed to keep us both alive until my brother arrived.

"Gwen."

My name registered in my mind. I looked up at Ricochet, fully aware that he could see the panic in my eyes. If anyone knew about flashbacks like these, it was my brother, Gage. Funny that he suffered from them for so long and now here I was right there with him.

His hand squeezed my shoulder and I heard the distant hum of his voice, but again, I couldn't make out his words. He led me upstairs to the apartment the club was allowing us to stay in. After the incident with Trent, Lockout had gone on full alert and had us all move in. I wasn't an old lady. He and the club didn't owe me and my kids anything, but being Ricochet's sister came with benefits.

If we hadn't been living here at the clubhouse, I wasn't sure what I'd be like. More of a mess than I already was. Being around the other women was helping me immensely. And I knew being around the men was what chased that haunted look from Sean's face. I would be forever grateful to them all.

"You back?"

Sucking in a shuddering breath, I nodded and gave Gage a small smile. "Sorry." I wasn't sure how long I was stuck in the flashbacks and the panic, but I knew it had been some time. It always took me a while to get over it.

"You never have to apologize," he said, shoving a glass of water into my hand. "Not to me." His eyes narrowed on my face. "You need to speak to someone, Gwen."

"You're one to talk," I shot back.

He winced, then looked down. "I have been."

"What?" I asked, sitting up a little straighter. I didn't remember sitting down, but he must have led me to the chair.

He shrugged. "I don't advertise it, but Lock and Jordan talked me into seeing a shrink. To help with...everything. Started not long after the incident with Trent."

"That explains why you seem to be doing so much better," I replied. "I'm so glad, Gage." I tried for years to get him to see someone, and I knew for a fact that Lock had as well. The fact that he was now just made me want to hug Jordan all the more. She was such a good influence on him.

"I can give you the number." He searched my face. "It's a female."

The fact that he knew I wouldn't want to be alone with a guy I didn't know right now told me how closely he was watching me. I was doing my best to hide the fact that I was struggling. I hadn't even talked to the other women about this. Not even Jordan. She'd been there, and knew how horrible it had been, but I wasn't ready to share. "Is Jordan-"

"Yup," he answered before I even finished. "She's been seeing this lady since that night, too. She was waking up with nightmares."

God did I know how that was. I swore the bags under my eyes had their own luggage. It didn't matter that it had been almost a year, nothing seemed to be getting better. Here at the clubhouse? It was easy to be open and joyful. I was safe. My kids were safe. Outside of here? I was constantly watching every shadow. Trent was dead. I knew it in my mind, but my nervous system didn't seem to have gotten the memo.

"What happened?"

I looked up at Ricochet and shook my head. I wasn't going to dump all my trauma on him. He had enough to deal with on his own. "Just a bad day." Besides, I wasn't about to admit to him that his handsome club brother had been the reason for my panic attack. Poor Static didn't need my overbearing brother giving him hell. Especially not when it looked like someone had already gone after him. As much as I wanted to ask what happened, I kept my mouth closed or my brother would put two and two together.

"You want me to stick around?"

"No. Thanks," I smiled at him and held up the water. "I'm good now."

He eyed me a moment, then nodded. "If you need anything, you call me."

I promised him I would and watched him leave. After a few minutes, I stood and went to check on my kids. They were sitting together on Sean's bed, watching a cartoon. He looked up and I saw the worry there. Smiling at him, I went and sat down with them, tucking them into my sides. It killed me when he watched me with that careful, but not fully concealed, concern. He shouldn't be worrying about me. He shouldn't think he has to protect me. That was my job. It was my duty—and my privilege—to protect him from the monsters in this world. And I was doing my best, but somehow they got past my defenses. And now I couldn't keep the memory out. How was I supposed to do this?

I always thought I was strong. When Trent left, I knew I could raise these kids by myself. I never doubted it. My love was too great to fail. Never once did I think I'd fail to protect them. But I had. And it was the only other person who was supposed to love them unconditionally that had broken all our trust. Now I couldn't seem to find my footing. And every time I slipped, it affected my kids. They were happy here. Content. Unafraid. Until something like this happened and I saw that fear leach back into their eyes.

Pulling my phone from my pocket, I texted my brother, asking for the therapist's number. That was one way I could help. One way I could start taking control of my life again. Then maybe I could get through a day without making poor Static think I was terrified of him. And I could leave that devastated look in my children's eyes behind for good.

"Mom?"

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