Page 73 of Jericho

Maybe that's it. Maybe I let myself imagine that we'd be one happy family. That Nolan, Eli, and I could just ride off into the sunset and live happily ever after.

But things don't really happen that way, do they?

Life is infinitely more complicated than that.

I've barely slept. Every time Eli shifts in his sleep, I jolt awake as if someone is coming to pull him from my arms.

The notion is silly. We're safer now than we have ever been in our lives, but that doesn't stop the fear from manifesting inside of me. I have no doubt that the panic inside of me won't subside any time soon. I was at risk of losing the most important person in my life, in the most brutal of ways, and I just can't seem to accept fully that we're okay. We've never been okay. Anylevel of security I've felt before was an illusion, and I can't help but wonder if this is just one more misconception.

As much as I want to believe things are looking up, there's that whisper in the back of my mind warning me to be cautious, to stay vigilant.

Eli slept hard until the sun started to peek through the curtains, and he tossed and turned a little for the last couple of minutes. I have no idea how his days looked. I don't know if he was actually being taught anything or if he was simply being kept away from me.

He jolts when the door opens, and I sit up in the bed when he does, noticing how wide his eyes are, as if he's expecting something horrible to be standing in the doorway. My proximity to him allows me to feel the way a small amount of the tension in his little muscles drain from his body, but I also notice how it doesn't fully fade at the sight of Nolan standing there. He wants to trust the man, but I can tell he's struggling with it, much the same way I'm struggling with the turn of events in my life.

"Good morning," he says. "Eli, you have a visitor."

I freeze, every muscle in my body locking up, but when Nolan looks in my direction, I know it's a counselor or therapist, not someone from our past creeping up and attempting to take our son.

I open my mouth to argue. The kid needs a break.

But I don't, knowing how important his healing is. The sooner we get started on that, the happier and more carefree he can be. I need him to get to the point where his fight-or-flight mechanism doesn't kick in just because someone opened his bedroom door.

"Zara assured me you have clothes and such to change into," Nolan says, still talking to Eli. "Is that something you need help with?"

Eli shakes his head, and Nolan gives him a proud smile.

"She'd like to meet with us first," Nolan says.

I climb out of bed but look back at Eli to make sure he's okay with what's happening.

He's absolutely adorable with his hair all over the place and the wrinkles from his pillowcase marking one cheek.

"Do you need anything right now?" I ask before I leave the room.

"I gotta pee," he whispers, as if he's telling me a secret.

"That's your bathroom," I tell him, angling my head toward the door to the far left. "Just make sure you wash your hands after and brush your teeth before coming down."

He pulls in a deep breath as if it takes a lot of bravery to climb off the bed and take care of his needs, but I don't intervene. As he goes into the bathroom and I leave the room to go to Nolan's bathroom to take care of my own needs, I wonder if that's the wrong choice. Should I be holding his hand and assuring him that it's okay to do these things? Am I throwing him to the wolves, so to speak, by putting him in the position to do things for himself?

Nolan keeps his distance as I go to the bathroom, brush my teeth, and change into yet another set of donated clothes from Zara.

He meets me in the hallway, as if he feels a need to stand between his bedroom door and Eli's.

"Is he safe here?" I ask, wondering who he feels the need to protect our son from.

"Yes," he answers swiftly, without hesitation. "I was waiting to make sure he didn't need anything. Ready?"

"As I'll ever be," I say, worried I may not like the therapist, but unsure if I have a right to voice my opinion. I know that's coming from trauma associated with my time under Damien's control.

I keep my eyes locked on the pretty blonde woman as I descend the stairs. She has her eyes down, locked on the screen of a tablet, but she quickly looks up with a soft smile when she hears us coming. My first instinct is to not like her at all. She's a few years younger than me, with silky blonde hair and bright blue eyes that probably have never seen any level of trauma or pain. She seems untouched by the evil things life has to offer to many of us. Maybe it's jealousy more than anything that I'm feeling.

Nolan gives her a smile, but I see that it doesn't reach his eyes, and I feel a little better somehow.

Was I worried he'd look at her and see someone who is screwed up from their past and be attracted to her?

I pull in a deep breath.

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