Page 12 of Unstable

My ears start to ring as the whole room spins, and the thrumming in my head is so loud that it almost prevents me from being able to bolt from the bedroom. But I make it, stopping just outside the door to lean against the wall and fight for a deep breath.

Gatlin joins me, shutting the door and that world away, back where it belongs. “It’s done, all over,” he soothes me, his voice low and steady. “You gonna be okay?”

“Yes,” I respond automatically, unsure whether or not I’m lying.

“People cope in different ways, Henley. She chose to remember the happy.”

“Not me.” I shake my head. “I don’t, can’t, I’m not going back in there.”

“And that’s okay,” he says simply. “You know what? You’re already up here, so why don’t you go ahead and take that hot bath I know you’re craving?” He changes the subject with a light chuckle.

I jerk my head up, eyeing him with infuriated suspicion. “What would make you say that? I’m not even sort of kidding anymore, Gatlin. You’re. A. Little. Creepy.”

He belts out a full laugh, robust and enviable. “You’re walking like you’ve got a stick shoved up your ass and you winced with every stair taken. You’re stiff, out of practice riding around a farm all day. Not rocket science, Henley. Take a bath, and I’ll go downstairs and see if I can’t find something to quiet all that noise your belly’s been making.”

Something coils tight in said noisy belly, an odd sensation I haven’t experienced in years. Ah, that’s what it is, the recognition of consideration.

“Um, Gatlin,” I say just above a whisper, that he still manages to hear, stopping his descent down the stairs to look back at me. “Thank you, for, you know, your help.”

“You’re welcome. Now go, try and relax. Everything will be okay, I promise. One thing at a time, yeah?”

“Yeah,” I nod.

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