Page 21 of Brazen Mistakes

For Trips? The barriers are real. And it would take a miracle for him to break through them.

Clara’s muffled screams wake me.

My shirt sticks to my chest as I pull her face away from my sternum, trying to whisper her awake, but quickly. It must work, because her eyes snap open, her breaths coming as pants, her heart pounding against mine.

“Shit.” She blinks the tears from her eyes, sopping them up with her sleeve, avoiding looking at me.

“You’re okay, princess.”

She swallows a few times before forcing a painful-looking smile onto her face. “You’re back!”

My thumb smears some lingering wetness across her cheek as I kiss her softly. “It’s okay to be upset for a minute. You don’t need to pretend with me.”

She presses her face against my shirt before pulling back with a twist of her lips. “I should get you a clean shirt. Or you could take it off?” Her eyes are bright, playful, but the haunted look she woke up with lingers on the edges of her expression.

And as fun as that would be, I’m not sure it’s the right choice, sex thirty seconds after a scream-worthy nightmare. “Clara—”

Her smile falters at my subtle rebuke.

A knock on the doorframe pulls my attention away from her.

“We good?” Trips asks, already dressed in jeans and a cream Henley.

Clara rolls to sitting, her back to me. “Yup. I was just going to grab a shower.” She picks up her towel on her way past Trips. He waits until the shower starts before coming into the room and settling into one of Clara’s chairs.

“She’s not good.”

I sit up in the bed. “No, she’s not.”

“Maybe we should have talked her into some kind of Christmas.”

“She was adamant that she wanted yesterday to just be like every other day, no presents, no tree, nothing.”

“Yeah. Looks like that helped.”

We both stare at the wall between us and her, like we’ve suddenly developed x-ray vision. If only pretending yesterday was normal had fixed Clara. But screaming first thing in the morning is a sign that what’s wrong with her is getting worse, not better.

Trips’ eyes flutter closed. “Fuck. And what I’ve got to say is only going to hurt her more. There’s no way it won’t.”

“What happened?” The way Trips’ shoulders slump makes me want to run to the shower, to cradle Clara in my arms, to comfort her however she wants before what’s coming for her hits. Because Trips doesn’t crumple. I didn’t know he even could.

“I’m calling a meeting. Tonight. We’ll figure it out later. Just keep your girl happy until then.”

Easier said than done.

Trips hauls himself from the chair and out of the room. My phone buzzes a moment later. Meeting set.

I don’t have a right to say a damn thing, but it’s clear that Clara needs to talk about what happened. The fear is eatingher whole. And she’s going to need all her strength, based on Trips’ reaction to whatever news he has to share with us.

We all heard that dick-less asshole whispering in her ear in that dirty alley in Chicago. We all saw how hazy she was afterward. And we all saw the moment she decided that she’d rather forget than deal with it.

And now? The fear is so big it’s taking over her sleep, her thoughts, her mood.

I pull off my shirt as I knock on the door to the bathroom. “Want some company?” I call.

“Door’s unlocked.”

Until she’s ready to talk, though, I’ll deal with this the way she’s decided to. Maybe it helps. Maybe it’s just a distraction. But it’s a distraction I’ll gladly provide until she’s ready to excise the wound.

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