Page 12 of Hot to the Touch

Maybe it was because he knew that they wouldn’t have a future together.

“I’ve been going to therapy since the day I got out of the hospital,” she admitted. “And still, I have panic attacks when a man makes eye contact with me on the street. I triple lock my doors to my house every night, and I bought two separate alarm systems for each door of my house. I’m a paranoid mess, but I can cope with it now.”

“Therapy won’t help me,” he told her.

She shook her head. “You’d be right if you said that therapy won’t fix you. It won’t. But you’re wrong when you say that it won’t help you. It will teach you the tools to fix yourself. You’re never going to be the same as before Iraq. Before Claire and your injuries saving me. I won’t ever be the same as before the kidnapping, but therapy helps me cope.”

He knelt on the bed, still slouching his shoulders and bowing his head.

“They gave me a military therapist when I left. It didn’t work.”

Chelsea shook her head. “See my therapist. She’s really great, and shewillhelp you.”

Chelsea knew that she couldn’t have convinced him if he hadn’t already thought about seeing someone, but she felt a sense of accomplishment when he nodded. She had a feeling it had nothing to do with her and everything to do with his daughter, but the weight of the accomplishment wasn’t lost on her.

He did surprise her when he spoke again, though.

“Go with me. To the therapist, I mean.”

In his eyes, Chelsea saw the broken remains of a man who wanted so desperately to feel whole once again. No matter her busy schedule or her own trauma, Chelsea couldn’t bring herself to do anything but agree.

8

He had to remind himself every day that he hadn’t recovered yet and that his weekly therapy was still an essential part of his routine. Before every appointment for a month, Chelsea took him to the door and waited for him outside. When he considered cancelling, he knew Chelsea wouldn’t allow it.

A month later, he felt the improvement in his mental health.

He knew he was still a long way away from mentally healthy, but he’d never been taught how to cope with his PTSD before. His therapist gave bits of advice where necessary, but most importantly, she helped him realize what he could do to help himself. He felt better than he’d felt for years after walking out of one of his sessions, and from the smile that greeted him after the appointments, he knew Chelsea could tell, too.

“What are we doing today?” she asked. She’d given a lot to make sure he got what he needed after therapy, and he hadn’t thanked her for anything.

He hadn’t given any indication that he planned to keep her around after the therapy proved effective, but she remained anyway, helping him heal. Could it really be a case of white knight syndrome when she saw and accepted the fact that Redmond wasn’t the white knight that she thought he was?

“Courtney said I could have Kaitlyn this evening.”

It was a condition more than anything: If he wanted to continue being a part of his daughter’s life, he’d need to find help and better himself first. He’d done it with Chelsea’s help.

“That’s great. I’ll drop you off at your house, then.”

Redmond examined Chelsea as they sat inside her car. She looked entirely unfazed—perfectly content with being left without even a thank you for the fifth week in a row. He couldn’t tell if it was because she’d given up on becoming anything more than friends, or if it was because she was genuinely that patient with his well-being.

“Why are you doing this?” he finally asked.

Her brows knitted together. “Why am I taking you to therapy?” He nodded, and she must have caught it from the corner of her eye, because she continued. “Because I care about you getting better. Part of your trauma happened because you were saving me, so the least I can do is help you get past it.”

“You feel obligated?”

She snorted, and her accent came through her words thicker than usual. “I don’t do things because I feel obligated. I only do things that I want to do. So, no. Iwantto be here for you.”

That was all he needed to hear. “Take a left turn at the light.”

She did as he asked, but she shook her head in protest. “I know how to get to your house. Going through the main part of town will double our drive time.”

“We’re picking up my daughter.”

The car jerked as she slammed on her breaks at the nearest red light and shot her head toward him. “I didn’t think you wanted me to meet her.”

He shrugged nonchalantly, but it had been something he’d been thinking about for quite some time. He’d wanted her to meet Kaitlyn, but he needed to be sure that Chelsea would stick around, and it seemed like she planned on doing just that. Whether it was to be friends or be in a relationship, he felt confident that she wasn’t going to leave him and cause a lot of emotional problems.

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