Page 68 of Shadows of Recovery

“Drink? It sounds like Kay might need help too. Maybe she’s acting out because she’s struggling with everything that’s happened. She’s still in love with you.”

“Cola, thanks.” He inhaled harshly.“Maybe. But it’s hard to have any sympathy when she’s being so cruel. I’m just... I’m exhausted, James. I feel like I’m failing everyone.”

James shook his head and placed an open cola and a glass filled with ice beside his brother.“You’re not failing anyone. You’re doing your best in an incredibly difficult situation. Sophie’s getting the help she needs, and Kay... we’ll find a way to deal with her. Maybe she needs some counseling too.”

“Maybe. I just wish things were different. Losing Mimi was hard enough, but now with Sophie and Kay, it’s all too much.”

“I know. But remember, we’re family, and we’ll get through this together. One step at a time.” James returned to his seat.

“Thanks, James. You’re becoming a damn good counselor.” Tristan smiled.

James chuckled. “I’m learning from the best people, so take my advice. Focus on Sophie for now, and I’ll help with Kay. And don’t hesitate to lean on me if you need anything. After you eat, you should go to bed.”

Upstairs, the bedrooms offered sanctuary from the outside world, each adorned with sumptuous linens and plush pillows. The master bedroom boasted a king-sized bed positioned beneath a large picture window that framed sweeping views of the surrounding countryside. It was a place he couldn’t go—not without Sophie.

Walking into the living room, Tristan shed his suit jacket. He poured himself a generous measure of scotch, the amber liquid glinting in the firelight as he raised the glass to his lips and settled into one of the leather armchairs. But before he drank, he tossed the glass into the fire, frustrated by everything, and unlike when he shared a drink with friends, this drink would risk his hard-earned sobriety.

As he gazed into the flames, lost in thought, Tristan couldn't shake the feelings. Sophie Everhart was the love of his life. She stirred a sense of protectiveness within him. Something he failed at.

Why didn’t he let her come to his father’s funeral? This wouldn’t have happened. His eyes grew heavy, and he fell asleep, but the atmosphere was thick with concern.

* * *

Early the next morning,Tristan, deep black circles beneath his eyes, sat at the head of the table, showered and dressed in an open-collar dress shirt and slacks, flanked by the medical and psychiatric personnel of the facility.

Tristan took a deep breath, glancing around at the team before speaking. “Thank you all for coming this early. I hate to be calling this meeting under such circumstances, but it’s important. Sophie Everhart has responded well to the physical rehabilitation, which is great news. However, she has mentioned nothing about what happened to her. Nor has she acknowledged the physical toll the attack has taken on her body. I’m concerned that she’s either remembering what happened and suppressing it, or that we’re on the verge of a major emotional break where the memories come flooding back. I need to know what your thoughts are.”

Dr. Kay Birdham leaned forward, her hands clasped on the table. “Tristan, it’s not uncommon for trauma survivors to block out memories of the event, especially if it’s something as horrific as what Sophie went through. It’s a defense mechanism.”

Dr. Chris Skylar nodded in agreement. “I agree, and we need to address it carefully and strategically. But we have to be very gentle in our approach. Forcing her to confront those memories before she’s ready could do more harm than good. In her sessions while in the hospital, she talked about mundane things—her favorite books, memories from her childhood, plans she had with Tristan before the incident. We will see if the change in venue will get her to connect to the incident more.”

Kay frowned. “I think it’s time to push her a little. She is quite content to be living in this bubble. But it’s not reality.”

Matt Langdon, the head nurse, chimed in, his expression serious, “From a medical standpoint, her recovery has been remarkable. But according to her hospital chart, even with Tristan at her side, she has had trouble sleeping. Last night, she awakened six times, though we were able to get her to fall back to sleep. Her chart also mentions she’s easily startled, and sometimes she just stares into space for long periods. It’s clear she’s struggling internally. And, Kay, according to the chart, the times you saw her in the hospital left her agitated. I don’t think you and Sophie are the best match.”

James, who had been listening intently, spoke up, “I want to get my feelings out there before my AM surgery at the hospital.” His brows creased. “What are our options? How do we help her without causing further trauma? She will let Tristan hold her hand and, at times, hug her. But she can’t go through life like that.”

“Tristan seems to like that idea,” Kay mumbled under her breath.

James glared at her. “Kay, cut the crap.”

Chris frowned. “Kay, my office when we are done here.” He rolled his shoulders. “She only arrived yesterday. According to Sam, she still has an arrhythmia. I think it shows itself when she’s most frightened. Our first duty is to create a safe space for her to feel comfortable enough to open up. Her room fits that bill, and so does our fifth therapy room.

“That means continuing with the gentle approach in therapy, providing her with a stable routine, and slowly introducing the idea that it’s okay to talk about what happened. And if she asks, introduce what occurred based on her questions. Providing too much info can provoke a break. We might also consider some form of creative therapy—art, music, writing. Sometimes, expressing trauma through nonverbal means can be a powerful first step.”

Sam sipped from an enormous cup of coffee. “Do we have any specifics on what happened to her and where? She became profoundly frightened in our treatment room. She’s seen a treatment room before; nothing there should have frightened her.”

Tristan looked at him. “I have a shift this morning; that’s why we are here so early. I’ll call Brad Killian.”

Sam and Chris nodded. Chris asked, “To change the subject, Kay, how are you feeling about what Matt said?”

Kay pursed her lips. “She’s just a patient. I have no issue with her one way or the other. I do have an issue with all this coddling. But if you want, we can do the kumbaya routine. Tristan, your support is crucial. She needs to know she’s loved and that you’re there for her, no matter what. Sometimes, just being present is the best thing you can do.”

Her tone made him uncomfortable. “She’s not just a patient. She’s very important to me. I hate seeing her go through this, and I feel so helpless. I want to see her whole again. Patients like her are the reason I created this institute.”

He paused and stared at Kay, who was playing a game on her phone. “None of our patients are just patients. What the hell is your problem?” his voice rose.

“No problem, Tristan. We have a treatment conflict, that’s all,” Kay said.

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