Page 6 of Shattered Hearts

Ingrid followed us into the room and sits off to the side—part of my care but not part of our family. I resent she needs to behere at all. Lucille pushes a coffee cart into the room, and she offers Ingrid a large mug. She looks more comfortable holding something in her hands, but Gage kisses my cheek and I forget all about her.

Lucille leaves and closes the door, and the four of us sit in the conversation area, the Christmas tree blinking bright, the presents still wrapped. We didn’t celebrate Christmas, and New Year’s Day isn’t particularly appealing either, just more weeks, more months, when my life isn’t my own and may never be.

I should let Gage pour himself coffee, but I can’t bear to crawl out of his embrace. He hugs me tightly, his hands bunching my pajama top.

“I want to know what’s going on,” he says, his chin grazing the top of my head.

“There’s nothing ‘going on,’” Zane says, his voice tired. “Dr. Reagan and I spoke. We’re weaning her off the meds too fast, that’s all. We’ll go more slowly, establish a routine. Keep her in familiar places.”

I won’t be allowed to go to Gage’s apartment anymore.

“Dr. Solis came out to the house. She looked at Zarah’s medications and brought up the possibility of increasing her sessions, which may not be a bad idea. Her mind is suppressing a lot of trauma. We’re doing all we can, Davenport, and I’m pissed you’re implying we’re not.”

“That’s not what I’m saying. What I hear is,welooked,hetalked. What about Zarah? Are you talking toher?” He nudges me back and peers into my face. “What can you tell us, sweetheart? How can we help you?”

I try to keep my tears locked away. They won’t help. If I want to be heard as an adult, I need to be able to speak like one. “I don’t know. I thought I was getting better. I was spending time in the city on my own. I was thinking about school andvolunteering. Slowly start stepping into my life, but then I don’t know what happened.”

“Sometimes stress can trigger an anxiety attack,” Stella says, wrapping her hands around Zane’s. “When I get stressed out, memories of what Ash did to me come back. Trapping me in his building or throwing me into that container on that cargo ship. Have you been stressed about anything particular? Were you worried about attending Max’s award ceremony? Have you spoken to Jerricka about anything that has upset you?”

I think back to our last couple of sessions, and my cheeks burn. “We’ve been talking about dating and being physically intimate,” I mumble.

“Does that scare you? It’s okay if it does. It scared me, being close to someone after Ash locked me up for so long. I was lonely and I wanted it, but that didn’t change how difficult it was. Physically and emotionally.”

“I’m so sorry, Stella. God.” Zane’s eyes fill tears, and he turns away until he finds control. She presses a kiss to his shoulder, what’d done forgiven a long time ago.

“I didn’t think it was. Gage has been so kind and understanding that way. We only do what I’m comfortable doing, and I’ve never felt pressured.”

“That’s a good start, but no matter how much you love each other and need the connection, maybe it’s better to slow down.” She sighs. “I feel like a hypocrite saying it—Zane and I were anything but slow—but Zarah’s and my histories are not the same. We were, and still are, dealing with very different things.” Glancing at Gage, she finishes, “I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re right. Maybe I was rushing her, and if I was, I have no problem admitting it. But I’m not going to stop seeing her, unless that’s what she wants,” he finishes softly.

I shake my head, pushing back a rush of panic. I can’t lose him over this. “No. I don’t want to stop.”

He nuzzles my cheek with his nose. “Good. Then where do we go from here?”

Steady now, Zane says, “More therapy, less time in the city, and never alone. Dr. Solis recommends structure, a schedule. Even if she’s staying home, ask her to shower and dress. Give her duties around the house. Walk with her outside.”

He ticks off the things Jerricka told him, and my heart falls to my feet. It sounds so much like my time at Quiet Meadows. The same thing hour after hour. The days blurring into months, the months blurring into years until one day I don’t know what day it is, or how old I am, or if I’ve seen anyone, talked to anyone, but the nurses who come into my room to drug me up.

The desolation would slowly kill me, and tears drip down my cheeks.

“I don’t care how much medication she’s still on. She’s not a fucking zombie and needs more than that,” Gage says between clenched teeth, his fingers digging into my arm.

“Then what do you suggest?” Zane’s tone is icy. “I didn’t realize you had a degree in psychiatry.”

“Zane,” Stella chides. “He wants her to get better just as much as we do.”

He blows out a breath. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“Stop being an ass, and you can stop apologizing,” she says and turns to me. “Ithink Gage is right, too. You need more. A prison is still a prison even if it’s your home. You had nothing more than an anxiety attack and we already think it’s because of the decrease in your meds and maybe you and Gage going too fast. In therapy, you can focus more on what Ash made you do, and then share those things with Gage. It will help you and him move forward. What do you think, sweetie?”

I like she thinks all I had was an anxiety attack, but I should tell everyone the truth. That my memory lapses have gotten worse when they should be getting better, that there aretimes I don’t remember anything about who I am or what my life consists of. So far, I haven’t forgotten her or Zane, but that doesn’t mean I won’t. Realistically, I know it’s not safe for me to go anywhere. Jerricka’s right. I probably shouldn’t leave the house, not even to walk the dogs. I’ll be like one of those Alzheimer patients we see on the news, lost and wandering until they freeze to death.

But if I tell them what’s really happening to me, Zane will worry more and Stella will stop advocating for my freedom. I don’t want to hide. I’ll simply be more careful and never leave the house alone. Better yet, I’ll do things with Gage. He might not have all the answers he wanted, but he knows more than he did before he pushed his way into the house.

“Okay, but it hurts to remember.”

I’m still sitting in Gage’s lap, and Stella slides off the couch cushion and kneels in front of me. “I know it does. I think of the five years Ash kept me a prisoner, and how much I missed Zane. I think about Ash trying to kill me, hurting Quinn in the process, and how he took Maryanne away from me. Ash let those men do horrible things to you, and if you can talk about it, then maybe you can put everything in a little box, tie it up tight, and never have to open it again. Zane talks me through things when life feels overwhelming.” She pauses. “If you don’t want to talk to Jerricka, talk to me or Gage.”

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