Page 45 of If Our Hearts Collide

“Here, I’ll take it,” the new voice cuts through the static sound crinkling in my ears.

Collins. He has me.

I let out a whimper but don’t dare open my eyes. My mind has played evil tricks on me before…tempting me to come out of this tight, little cocoon of protection…

Just to be deceived again.

“Penny?” His voice is in my ear, hesitation evident in his concerned tone, as he rubs soft circles along my back. “No one will hurt you.”

I clear my throat as I choke on a sob. “He was here.”

“Who?”

“Mark.”

I feel the tension radiate through his body, as he takes a step back, cups my chin, and coaxes me to look into his eyes. “Penny…”

“He was. I saw him.”

“No. He’s locked up. He’ll never hurt you again.”

Except he is…

My eyes scan the room, searching for the vile man, but he’s nowhere to be seen.

Of course he isn’t.

Mark Tanner may be rotting away behind the bars in prison until he has his trial, but he lives rent-free in my damaged mind every day I exist.

“I’m sorry,” I say, as tears fill my eyes—for what, I’m not too sure.

My stare grows wide. I know if I blink, I’ll be a crying mess.

“He can’t hurt you, unless you keep allowing him to.”

“He finds me.” I bite back a sob. “Every time I am vulnerable. He finds me. Every time a stranger brushes against me. He finds me. And those instances make me want to lose myself into the darkness and never come out. I want to hide.”

And that’s what I did that night—I hid—and never resurfaced until months later.

Collins pushes back a strand of hair that I’m sure is sticking to the side of my sweaty cheek. His eyes study my face, looking for what—I don’t know. “How can I help you?”

“I just need a moment.”

“Let’s find you a place to sit. There’s a chair in the hallway.”

It takes all my energy to nod. I feel like a freak. If physical touch can trigger me this much, how will I ever be able to have a healthy relationship—let alone an actual sex life?

“Here, take my hand.”

Reluctantly, I reach mine out and Collins envelops it. His touch feels different—safe.

“I’m sorry.” My words come out soft, almost as a whisper that I’m not even sure is loud enough to be heard. “I scared that person.” I know I did. There’s no amount of convincing me otherwise that will be believable. Not when I know the truth.

“Everything’s going to be alright. Just take a couple of deep breaths.”

His steady pace guides me blindly to a comfy chair several yards away from where I exited Plus None. I feel foolish. Being triggered this easily is not proving to anyone that I’m healedfrom the trauma that got me sent away in the first place. Maybe Graham and Nic’s fear that I was released too soon is valid.

Right now in this moment, I would have to agree.

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