Page 112 of The Black Trilogy

He squeezed my hand. “I’ve noticed. I guess it doesn’t work for everyone.”

“If someone got a look in my head, they’d lock me up and chuck the key down a mineshaft.”

“How about writing a letter? There were so many things I wished I’d said to Jana, and that’s what hurt more than anything—knowing I never would. The counsellor I saw made me put them down on paper.”

“How does that help?”

“It lets the grief escape. She told me to leave the letter somewhere I associated with Jana—I left it under the tree where the eagles live at the back of my house. Maybe doing that would help to get the grief out of your system?”

“Maybe.”

And then I made the mistake of thinking about what I would write. When I felt the words “I love you” on my tongue, I lost it. Big time. I guess not crying for over twenty years meant I had a lot of tears stored up because I dissolved in a puddle of them in Nick’s lap.

The old Nick came back, and he held me until I had nothing left inside. My eyes were as empty as my soul, and my dead hopes dampened his shirt. When I stopped shaking, he kissed my hair and hugged me tighter, then lifted me into his arms and carried me upstairs to bed.

CHAPTER 33

TURNED OUT MY meltdown chased the nightmares away. Maybe I should try it more often? When I woke, dark storm clouds still raged in my mind, but this time there was something else. A chink of sunlight. While it hadn’t chased the shadows away, it had lightened the gloom in places, and with that glow came a newfound positivity. I’d spent the last three months running away from things. Now, the time had come to fight.

But before that, I had to speak to Nick. Embarrassed couldn’t begin to describe how I felt. That girl last night, the one overflowing with tears, dramas, emotions—that wasn’t me. How was I supposed to face him?

I lay in bed pondering this as the door clicked open. With all the mess last night, I’d forgotten to lock it.

Nick peered around the edge. “Is it safe?”

I inhaled deeply as the rich aroma of coffee floated over to me.

“Don’t worry, I’m awake.”

He stepped into the room and perched on the edge of my bed, his battered jeans a contrast to Bradley’s choice of plum velvet throw. My eyes alighted on the cup in his hands. Please, say that was for me?

“I brought you coffee,” he said.

Hallelujah. “Did I ever tell you how fantastic you are?”

“Many times, each of them when I was carrying something hot and steamy.”

I took a sip—black and strong, just the way I liked it. My ecstasy, however, was short lived when I realised Nick wasn’t leaving.

“Look, about last night, I’m so sorr—” I began, but he interrupted me.

“Nothing to be sorry for. It was about time you let go of all that rubbish stored up inside. You need an outlet before it poisons you.”

He was right; of course he was right. I did need an outlet. Or, I should say, a new outlet. I’d always unloaded on my husband, and he’d known what to say or do to make the pain go away. Talking to Nick was different, but his stepping in had been a blessing.

“I know I do.”

“I’m always here, baby. Talk to me, don’t bottle it up. Please.”

If Nick was offering to be my sounding board, I had to accept. Nobody left could do the job better. Did he understand what he was letting himself in for? The black parts of my mind scared even me.

I reached over and squeezed his hand. “Thanks, Nicky.”

“No need for thanks. I’ll do anything for you; you know that. And remember, it’s always darkest before dawn.”

“I hope that’s true.”

Surely something had to give? If not my sanity, then something on the case. The longer the kidnapper held onto Tia, the greater the chance of something going wrong.

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