Page 64 of Protecting Bianca

I waited for her to reach me before I turned around, not wanting to scare her if she was still half asleep. But I was the one with my eyes closed when she placed her hands on my arms. She was warm and I could still smell her rose perfume.

“What are you doing up?” she asked.

“I couldn’t sleep.”

I swiveled in my chair and pulled her onto my lap. My skin tingled when she ran her hands through my hair. “Was it something that happened today? Are you upset with River? Because I’m mad as hell, too.”

The street lights from the window cast a shadow on her face, but her frown was visible. I ran my thumb across her cheek, reveling in the softness of her skin. “No. I don’t normally sleep.”

“Why not?”

I shrugged. “Too many nightmares.”

“When did this start?”

“I don’t know. It’s been a while.”

She kissed me gently and tilted her head. “Tell me.”

I sighed, not used to divulging so much of myself, but knowing if I wanted her in my life, I had to get used to sharing pieces of myself with her.

“I guess it started after a particular mission. We were supposed to sneak up on a terrorist leader and arrest him, as we’d done so many times before, but… someone had betrayed us. When we got to the hideout, his men were waiting for us.”

My chest tightened, and I inhaled slowly through my nostrils to catch my breath and my thoughts. I could hear men shouting and guns firing. My commander’s voice through the earpiece was urgent and pissed off. He never lost his cool, so we knew something went wrong. “My commander tried to get us out. He shouted for us to abort. Then he told us to get the fuck out of there.”

“And did you?”

“We tried.”

Damn. It was hard talking about it.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to tell me if you’re not ready. But you should tell someone.”

“I have. But it hasn’t helped. I tell them. They tell me it wasn’t my fault. I don’t believe them, and here I am.”

She nodded while holding my face in her hands. “Have you talked to your brothers about it? To the people who were there with you that day?”

Her eyes glistened in the moonlight, and I was lost for a moment. Her compassion chipped at the frozen pieces of my heart. The parts I’d closed off to everyone. “No,” I said. “We’ve never talked about it.”

“Do you think it would help?”

“I don’t know. But I don’t think it’s affected them as much as it’s affected me.”

“How do you know?”

I stared at her and wanted to say ‘because I just do,’ but that wasn’t good enough.

“We’ve been through so much. I guess I’m afraid bringing it up would only bring back the memories and I wouldn’t want to do that to them.”

“What if you knew one of your brothers was having a hard time with this? Wouldn’t you want to help him if you could?”

“Of course. No question.”

“Then let them help you.”

Could I do that? Would I feel weak if I opened myself up to my brothers and told them that I still couldn’t get over some of the things that happened to us? Would they think less of me?

“I don’t think it will help.”

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