One
One minute Valerie Wolitzky was drinking margaritas with her two pals, Astrid Lindberg and Melanie Shaw, in their favorite Dallas watering hole, Golden Spurs and Stetsons. The next minute an alarm shrieked, and Val leaped from her seat, knocking over her chair and her drink. She had to get out. Now.
Panic buzzed in her ears as she charged the front door. She had to beat the mob of people. If she didn’t, she’d be trapped . . . just like before.
Wham! She hit a solid wall of muscle and staggered back. A cowboy blocked her way. She shoved him hard. “Let me out!”
He grabbed her shoulders. “Hold on, there, ma’am. What’s the problem?”
Was he an idiot? With adrenaline-fueled strength, she pushed him aside and barreled through the door, almost knocking down a second man who was right behind him. But she got out the door.
Safe! She was safe! Shaking, she leaned over and braced her hands on her knees as she gulped for air. The warm breeze of a summer night touched her wet cheeks. She swiped at them as she slowly straightened. She needed to sit down, but there was nowhere to—
“Val!” Astrid’s shout penetrated the buzzing in her ears, and she turned. Her two friends burst through the door of the bar and rushed toward her.
Relief that they were okay was followed by hot shame. She hadn’t thought of them, hadn’t even tried to save them. She’d only thought of herself.
“Omigod, Val.” Melanie, brown hair flying, reached her first and hugged her. “It’s okay. Some smoking oil set off the smoke detector in the kitchen. It’s okay. It’s okay.”
Filled with gratitude for her friend’s safety, Val hugged her back without paying much attention to what she was saying.
Astrid joined the huddle and rubbed Val’s back. “Easy, girlfriend. Take it easy. Everything’s fine.”
Gradually Valerie’s heartbeat slowed, and the grip of fear eased. She took a quivering breath and wondered why she wasn’t hearing sirens. She stepped out of Melanie’s embrace and looked around. “Where are the fire trucks?”
“There’s no fire.” Astrid continued to stroke her back. “Just a little smoke.”
“Did they evacuate the building?”
“No, sweetie.” Melanie gazed at her with compassion. “They shut off the alarm right away and came out of the kitchen to explain the problem.”
Valerie’s heart started pounding again. Dear God. “I was . . . the only one who ran out?”
Both Melanie and Astrid nodded.
“Well, except us,” Melanie added. “We took off after you.”
“Oh, no.” Val covered her face as embarrassment flooded through her, scorching her cheeks. She’d overreacted. Caused a scene. Involved her friends in her craziness. Slowly she lowered her hands and stared at them in misery. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered.
“Don’t worry about it.” Astrid squeezed her arm. “But Val, it’s time to get serious about—”
“Ma’am? Are you all right?” The cowboy Valerie had smacked into when she fled now walked over to her, trailed by the other guy, who wore a business suit. They both looked worried.
Val thought of the old cliché and wished the sidewalk really would open up and swallow her. “Yes, thank you.” She wished the words didn’t sound so wobbly and uncertain.
“You don’t look all right.” The cowboy kept coming. He had a purposeful John Wayne stride, and he towered over the other man. “You’re shaking like a newborn foal. What happened in there?”
Melanie put a protective arm around Val’s shoulder. “Thanks for your concern, but she’ll be fine.”
He paused and tipped his Stetson back with his thumb. “I’m sure she will. I just . . . was it the smoke alarm that spooked you? I heard it go off right before I got to the door.”
He seemed like a nice guy who only wanted to help. Val couldn’t fault him for that, especially after she’d tried to knock him down in her full-out panic mode. He must have seen the terror in her eyes. “I’m afraid I overreacted.” She cleared her throat and summoned her lawyer’s voice. “I apologize for plowing into you and yelling. That was rude.”
“No worries.” He glanced at Astrid and Melanie, standing on either side of her. “I’m glad your friends are here.” He hesitated before bringing his attention back to Val.
His eyes were gray. Not a gloomy, dark sort of gray, but light, almost silver. They shone with kindness. “Listen, I don’t know you at all, and I’m probably butting in where I have no business, but I understand a little something about post-traumatic stress.” He turned to the man who’d come up behind him. “And my buddy Will wrote the book on it. Literally.” He looked at Val again. “If you need—”
“To see someone?” She managed not to choke on the words. “I appreciate the thought, but I have that covered.” She had nothing covered, because she was determined to handle the issue herself, despite what her friends thought she should do. But he didn’t have to know any of that.
“Good. That’s good. But if you need a second opinion, I highly recommend Will. Say, Will, you have any cards with you?”
“I think so.” The man reached inside his suit jacket. “Yep. Here’s one.”
Val stepped back, away from the outstretched business card. If she ever decided to go that route, she’d find her own shrink. Locating the right person would require lots of research. A chance meeting on the sidewalk didn’t qualify as an intelligent method for hiring a professional therapist. “Thanks, but I—”
“I’ll take it.” Astrid reached for the card. She looked at the name printed there before tucking the card in her jeans pocket. Then she exchanged a glance with the cowboy.
Val figured that the wordless message between Astrid and the cowboy was along the lines of I can handle it from here.
As if to confirm that, the cowboy touched the brim of his hat, a classic farewell gesture. “We’ve kept you ladies long enough. I’m glad you’re all right, ma’am. You three have a nice evening.” Both men turned and headed back toward the bar.
Val swung to face Astrid. “I know what you’re up to, but I’m not making an appointment with some guy I met on the street.”
“Oh, yes, you are.” Astrid’s blue eyes flashed with determination. She was small and blond, but anyone who underestimated her because of that would be making a huge mistake. “He’s not just some guy. He’s Will Bryan, who’s appeared on lots of talk shows because of his book on PTSD. I’ve seen him on TV, but somehow I missed the fact that he’s from Dallas.”
“So he’s famous? Then I’ll bet he’s booked solid.” That should take care of that.
Melanie spoke up. “If he’s booked solid, he would have said so instead of handing over his card. Anyway, that cowboy seems to be his good friend, and he suggested you contact this Will guy. If you mention to Will that you were the tall redhead he met outside the Golden Spurs and Stetsons, I’m sure he’ll work you in.”
“Yeah, and charge me a million bucks now that he’s so well-known.” Another excellent reason why she wouldn’t be calling him.
Astrid’s jaw firmed. “Being prominent doesn’t necessarily mean he charges more than anyone else. And if his fee is really high, then I’ll—”
“No, you won’t, Astrid Lindberg. I’ve never taken money from you, and I won’t start now.” Val, Astrid, and Melanie had been sorority sisters. Fortunately Astrid’s wealthy background hadn’t been a barrier to their friendship, even though Melanie and Val had scraped through school with scholarships and student loans and Astrid had sailed along on her parents’ considerable money.
“You can pay me back later.”
“No.” Val shook her head. “Look, I don’t need a celebrity therapist.”
“Maybe not, but you need a therapist, and you’re making no progress toward getting one.” Astrid pulled the card out of her pocket. “It’s been months since the concert hall fire, and you’re not getting better on your own. This guy showing up right when you had a meltdown seems like it was meant to be.”
Val’s stomach churned. Until that awful night of the fire and the stampede, she’d prided herself on her self-sufficiency and emotional stability. Now she freaked at every little thing. She hated feeling so out of control these days, but the idea of allowing some stranger to probe into her vulnerability made her break out in a cold sweat. “I just need time.”
“No, you don’t.” Melanie put her arm around Val’s shoulders again, and her grip was tighter than before. Melanie’s curves made her look soft, but she had a backbone of steel. “You’ve had time, and nothing’s changed. This is a fabulous opportunity, and you’re going to see this therapist . . . even if we have to hog-tie you and haul you there ourselves.”
Astrid sighed in obvious relief. “Well said, Melanie. So here’s the deal, Val. We’re your best friends, and we can’t stand by and watch this train wreck any longer. You’ve stopped dating. You’ve turned down a promotion at the law firm. You insist on sitting at the table by the front door when we go out anywhere. Enough.”