Page 52 of Lost
“I really love when you do that,” he murmurs as he sees me. There’s a bag that I packed in his hand and my phone. “The inside of the van looks like it went through a war zone. Feel like telling me about that?”
“Not really,” I say, shrugging. “I sometimes get a little manic when I can’t think past pain.”
“That explains all the toys on the floor,” he says. “Call your sister and I’ll go clean up for you.”
“Oh,” I say wide eyed. “Tyde, I can do that. I have a feeling that it’s really messy.”
“How bad was it?” he asks, his eyes burning into me as he squeezes the keys in his hand.
“I wanted to die,” I whisper. “I thought I did when I woke up.”
“Fuck,” he explodes. “I can’t imagine that you put yourself in that position on purpose because you’re too smart for that?—”
“I didn’t,” I promise him. “I was driving to get away from the pain and being a problem. I didn’t expect to start my heat and create a medical emergency.”
“I believe you,” he rasps. “It was really scary to see you laying listlessly in Lars’ arms, Nova. You’re going to need one of us for your heats from now on. I tried really hard to maintain consent, but you needed a knot, baby. I’m the only one who knotted you. I know Caleb, Lars, and I are basically strangers to you. I didn’t want you to hate us afterward.”
Tyde projects everything that happened during my heat through the bond, as well as what Caleb and Lars explained occurred when they found me in the van, and it allows me to see the truth of his words. God, I had a seizure. I’ve only ever heard whispers that this could happen.
“Wow,” I rasp. Alongside with the images, I also felt Tyde’s emotions and thoughts. The way that I respond to someoneeven hinting that I’m a “good girl” isn’t pretty. There’s this soul crushing fear attached to it since that’s whatheused to call me.
“Hey,” Tyde says, dropping the bag on the ground along with my phone and keys. It lands on top of the bag, but he doesn’t even check as he moves toward me. “You’re with me, not him. He’s dead, Nova. You told me he was. Look at me.”
My breaths are coming too fast and I feel lightheaded. Trauma is a real bitch.
I don’t want to have a panic attack.
“You won’t,” Tyde growls, slipping into his confident persona as if it’s a glove that’s well loved. He’s a doctor, so it makes sense that he’s calm in an emergency. “Look. At. Me.”
My gaze snaps up and his cool hands cup my face. He has a sweatshirt on that he didn’t before, and his feet are bare again. He must have taken them off when he came back in. I’m grasping at straws to ground me, and he nods encouragingly.
“You’re already talking yourself down,” he says. “That’s it, baby. Tell me one more thing about what’s around you.”
“Your eyes are really pretty,” I breathe.
“I could stare at yours all damn day. The color deepens and changes with your emotions. I’ve been enjoying the full spectrum of them while helping you through your heat. It’s been incredible.”
His words help me understand what I’m feeling. I’m not a toy or possession to Tyde. We may not know each other well, but that won’t last for long now that we’re bonded. Every thought passes through the bond, every emotion. Sure, we could learn to block the other person over time…
Why would I want to though?
“I don’t care about time, Nova. The second I found out you were my scent match, I panicked because I knew I would fuck it up. I’ve been celibate by choice because I have an addictive personality. First, I wanted to focus on medical school, and thenI was too busy to date. It doesn’t help that I have a difficult time talking to people,” he says, the words almost toppling over each other.
“I think you did just fine,” I say, feeling unsteady.
“You know what, the van can keep for a while,” he says. “I’ll put the dishes up and I’ll just hold you while you make your call. Would that be okay?”
“Yeah,” I say, threading my fingers through his when he takes my hand. The memories are being pushed away one moment at a time. I just need to get enough space from it so I can continue to remind myself that I’m no longer a kid at the mercy of her fake father.
Somewhere in Minneapolis I have real parents, and I’ll hopefully get the choice as to whether or not I want to meet them. Not today, though.
I feel as if I’ve already been through a full gamut of emotions, and I still have no idea what time it is.
“It’s about three in the afternoon,” Tyde says, walking me back to where my phone is so he can pick it up. “Hang out with me today, take the day as slow as you need to find your footing, okay? I’ll be here for as much or as little as you need.”
He doesn’t want to give me space, but he’s willing to, and that means a lot.
Chapter Eleven
