Page 62 of Shadows of Recovery

Sophie nodded slowly, her fingers tightening around his. “Okay,” she whispered. “Okay.”

His heart swelled with love and pride. “Thank you for understanding.” He pressed a kiss to her palm.

* * *

The ambulance hit a small bump,causing Sophie to wince as the restraints tightened around her. Tristan gripped her hand, his eyes filled with concern. “You okay?”

She nodded, though her face was etched with pain. “Just… a little sore.” She wouldn’t admit that she had a fleeting memory of falling down a flight of stairs. She rubbed her chest.

“We’ll be there soon,” the paramedic assured them, his tone professional yet kind. “You’re doing great, Sophie. Just hang on a little longer.” He pressed the monitor to print out some tape. Her heartbeat had grown irregular.

Tristan glanced at the paramedic, then back at Sophie. “You hear that? We’re almost there. Just a little more.”

Sophie’s eyes widened. “I’ll try, Tristan. For you.”

“For us,” he corrected gently. “We’re a team, remember?”

She nodded, her grip on his hand tightening. “A team,” she echoed, drawing strength from the bond they shared.

“A few deep breaths,” he coached. He adjusted her nasal oxygen. As the ambulance neared its destination, he leaned down to kiss her forehead. “I love you, Sophie. More than anything.”

“I love you too, Tristan,” her voice trembled.

She wasn’t sure what that meant anymore. Once, it was a word filled with promise, a vision of a shared future, of safety. But now, in the shadow of her fears and the relentless flashbacks that haunted her, the meaning felt slippery, uncertain.

She wanted to believe in it, in the strength of their connection, but doubt ate at her. What if love wasn’t enough to keep the darkness at bay? What if she was too damaged to hold up her end of it? The fear of disappointing Tristan, of failing to live up to the trust he placed in her, haunted her. She wondered if she could ever truly feel safe again, if she could find her way back to the confidence she once had in their bond.

“Love” had once meant they could face anything, but now Sophie wasn’t sure if it was something she could still count on.

As the ambulance pulled up to the entrance of the Blackwell Institute, Tristan tightened his grip on Sophie’s hand. His eyes, a mix of worry and hope, never left her face.

“We're here,” he whispered. “Everything’s going to be alright. These people are the best.”

Sophie managed a weak smile, but her eyes grew heavy with exhaustion.

The ambulance doors swung open, and a team of medical professionals appeared in front of them. At the front of the group was the only familiar face, Dr. Chris Skylar. The head of psychiatry for the Blackwell Institute wore a warm black sweater and jeans. “It’s cold out here, people. Let’s get Sophie inside.”

“Hi, Sophie, welcome.” The group moved her into the warm building.

Sophie looked around. She’d been inside the Blackwell Institute with Tristan. She asked him about the place he built on the ride. But she had no memory. She sniffed the air. It didn’t smell like a hospital. That somehow was reassuring.

Chris called to her, “Sophie, this is one of the staff psychiatrists, Dr. Ellen Boyle.”

“Welcome, Sophie,” Dr. Boyle said warmly, her eyes kind and reassuring. “We’re going to take great care of you here.”

Another woman came rushing down the corridor. Sophie noticed Tristan tense. His hand holding hers moistened.

The woman looked at Sophie. “I’m Dr. Birdham. You’re in good hands, Sophie. We’ve been preparing for your arrival, and we’re ready to get started on your treatment.”

“Dr. Birdham, let’s not overwhelm Sophie. You have other patients to see,” Chris said.

The woman’s face pinched like a fish.

Sophie pulled on Tristan’s hand. “We’re a team,” she whispered. Whatever was upsetting him passed as he smiled at her.

As the team escorted Sophie to a generic treatment room, she began to tremble. Tristan took a step closer.

“Tristan,” she whispered, “I’m scared.” Inside the room, her heartrate increased even more than in the ambulance.

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