Seth

We stayed sitting on the floor for a while longer before leaving the fitting room. I only stood when Brooke decided to get up. I felt her hand trembling against mine as I opened the door. We walked toward the store’s exit, and I only realized Olivia and Ethan were still there when I heard the brunette's voice behind us, just as we reached the hallway.

"Brooke," Olivia called in a wavering sigh before wrapping the blonde in a tight hug. The two spoke so softly that I couldn't make out their words.

Ethan watched us anxiously, his eyes shifting between the women embracing and me. I still didn’t know what had triggered Brooke’s panic attack, but I was almost certain there was nothing he could’ve done to stop it.

I nodded in his direction and he opened his mouth to say something, but Olivia stepped back at that moment.

"Let me know when you get home," Brooke said, reaching for my hand again.

"Of course, you too. Love you, B.!" She picked up the shopping bags from the floor and walked down one side of the hallway, looking at us once more before disappearing from view.

"Where’s the car?" I asked Ethan.

"On the side street," he announced.

"Great, let’s go," I said.

"I really didn’t want to go through a parking lot," Brooke murmured. Of course, even though it was another mall, it would still be a major trigger.

"You did the right thing. There’s nothing wrong with knowing and respecting your limits," I praised.

Ethan got behind the wheel while Brooke and I settled into the back seat. She nestled into me, making my chest warm—not because of the way her head rested there, but because of how intense my feelings for her were.

"Sorry, Ethan. Your first day was chaotic," Brooke said. "Already regretting taking the job?"

"There’s no reason to apologize, Brooke," the guard replied, taking the words out of my mouth. "If your plan was to scare me off, you’ll have to try harder next time," he joked, and she laughed.

The sound of her laughter soothed my soul. I looked at the blonde in my arms and wondered how she didn’t see how strong she was. Today, she faced her trauma, her triggers, just had a crisis, and still managed to smile. The day she was cleared to resume physical training, she didn’t hesitate to go back to the gym. Her dedication even stronger than before.

Brooke’s breathing deepened, her body relaxing against me, and I knew she had fallen asleep. She must’ve been exhausted.

"What happened?" I asked in a low voice, careful not to wake her.

Ethan looked in the rearview mirror before answering.

"They were laughing and talking when someone dropped a box of glass cups on the floor." He paused, his eyes meeting mine in the reflection. "It was instant—her whole expression changed, and she started running. She didn’t even notice she was still holding Olivia’s hand and practically dragging her friend who couldn’t keep up. Olivia let go and she kept going, entered the store, and hid in the fitting room. She didn’t respond to either of us. That’s when I called you."

I stroked her hair and she pushed her face into me. Just as I suspected, there was nothing that could’ve prevented it. The loud sound was the trigger. God knows I understand what that’s like, especially in the first years after Kandahar. The problem is I spent most of my time in a war zone, where triggers were constant and losing control could mean killing one of my friends.

"You did the right thing, Ethan. Thank you for calling me and for not trying to enter the fitting room," I said.

"I thought it might make things worse. One of the guys in my squad had PTSD..." he started. Seconds stretched as I waited for him to continue, but he just looked away, hands tightening on the steering wheel as he kept his eyes on the road.

"I’m sorry."

"Thank you. He’s at peace now," he replied. "But anyway, that’s what happened."

The rest of the drive was quiet, and soon Ethan was parking in front of our house. We said goodbye and he headed to his car while I picked Brooke up in my arms. Her body fit perfectly against mine, and I carried her inside. She didn’t even stir, her sleep was that deep.

As usual, the dogs came running as I entered, but they noticed Brooke in my arms and didn’t jump or beg for affection. They just walked alongside me to the stairs.

"What happened?" Kyle asked, coming down two steps at a time. "What’s wrong with her?" He scanned her from head to toe, probably looking for injuries. I had been so focused on her that I forgot to let them know what had happened and didn’t consider how it might look for me to carry her inside unconscious.

"She had a panic attack at the mall and fell asleep on the way home," I explained. "She’s fine, Ky. She got scared and it triggered the episode. Ethan called me because I was the closest."

"I shouldn’t have agreed to this."

"Whether it was today or ten years from now, it still would’ve happened. Unfortunately, it’s normal. She wasn’t born to be caged and you know that," I said, and the truth of my words hit me hard. "Believe me, I wish that weren’t the case."

He stroked her face.

"I’ll take her to the room and stay with her until she wakes up."

"Alright," he agreed with a nod.

I started climbing the stairs when he called out.

"Seth, I’m glad you were there for her, brother," he said.

I nodded, unsure how to respond, and continued to my room. I laid Brooke on the bed, covered her with the comforter, and settled beside her. The clear sky of the late afternoon was still visible through the curtainless window.

I checked my phone and replied to Tristan’s messages—he told me my client refused to be tattooed by him and rescheduled for me to finish her design within a month. I thanked him for trying and explained I had a family emergency. While I had the phone in hand, I also sent a more detailed message to Raffi and Kyle, explaining what had happened.

Brooke shifted, throwing a leg over mine and using my chest as a pillow, and my entire body instantly became aware of every point of contact. I wrapped my arms around her and tried to match our breathing, focusing on that and suffocating my desire.

***

I must have dozed off because when I open my eyes, the sky is already dark and dotted with stars. I stretch carefully so I don’t wake Brooke, who’s still sleeping curled up against me.
I turn on the bedside lamp and grab the new volume of the Jack Reacher series from my nightstand, picking up where I left off. I love these books, and out of the last ten I’ve read, I managed to guess the villain in six. And if my suspicions were right, this would be the seventh.
Reacher is in the middle of a chase when Brooke starts stirring, her head shaking like she’s saying no against my chest, her fist clutching my shirt and her breathing quickening. Before I can wake her, she sits up and scans the room.
"Shh, we’re home," I say, rubbing her back. "It’s okay."
She turns to me and curves her lips into a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes.
"How long did I sleep?" she asks, leaning against me.
"A few hours. Are you hungry?" She shakes her head. "Thirsty?"
Same answer. She pulls her knees up and hugs them, resting her head on them, turned toward me. Her green eyes look lost as she stares at me. She starts to say something, but stops and closes her mouth again.
I stroke her cheek, and she leans into the touch, closing her eyes. I lean in, taking her face in my hands and kissing her lips, which part to give me full access. Our tongues explore, and Brooke’s sweet taste is addictive. I wasn’t wrong when I nicknamed her Little Bee.
I press our foreheads together when the kiss ends.
"Do you remember what I said that day?" Her eyes open at the question. She bites her lower lip, testing my self-control, but her health is more important than my desire. "It was the truth and it still is. Nothing you say could push me away from you."
Her eyes fill with tears, and she looks down at her legs.
"I’m a killer," she murmurs in a confessional tone, her words echoing in the room.
"We all are," I reply, and she hugs her knees tighter. I hold her chin and make her look at me again. "But you, Little Bee, are a survivor. There are people who hurt others for pure pleasure. You did what you had to do to survive."
"He was already on the ground," she says, as if I didn’t remember, as if I wasn’t the one who put that bastard there.
"And if you’d let him live, you’d spend every day since then wondering when he’d come back. You’d never be able to move past what happened."
"I haven’t moved past it," she confesses in a whisper, a solitary tear slipping down her cheek.
"That kind of thing takes time, Brooke." I wipe the tear’s trail with my thumb. "It’s completely normal and reasonable that it still haunts you, since you’ll never be able to forget it completely. But that doesn’t change your worth in any way," I say, hoping she can hear the honesty in my voice.
If it were possible, I’d go back in time just to kill that bastard again, just to punish him the way he deserved for making Brooke doubt her own virtue. I’d take pleasure in breaking him day after day, for as long as it took to remove the pain from the blonde’s eyes.
Brooke’s lip trembles.
"I don’t regret killing him," she confesses in a whisper I might have missed if I weren’t completely focused on the movement of her lips.
Well, he deserved it.
But then I see her utter devastation. After everything that happened today, Brooke is showing me her soul, and it’s in pieces. Lost in a darkness I know as well as my own reflection, a darkness that threatens to take away the most precious thing I have.
No.
I can only think of one way to show her the way out.
I take a deep breath and prepare to join her, so we can walk back to the light together.
"What do you see when you look at me?"