“Oh. Cool.”
Cool? Okay. How often did he hear seventeen-year-old chicks admit to seeing a therapist, that his only response was cool? I peeked at him, and he was just looking at me, expression open. “Really?”
Rider raised a shoulder. “Makes sense. You saw some—yeah, some rough shit. Dealt with some crazy stuff. I’m actually kind of relieved you saw someone.”
I studied him for a moment. “You...really believe that?”
He nodded.
“What about you?” I asked, and when he blinked, he looked confused. “You grew up...with me. You’ve seen some bad shit.”
“I’m fine,” he replied, shifting his gaze to the books.
I stared at his profile. “I was there, Rider. I remember some—”
“And I’m fine,” he interrupted, lifting his gaze to mine. “I promise. I swear.”
Pressing my lips together, I slowly shook my head. “You said you thought...about that night.”
Rider stiffened and then exhaled slowly. “Sometimes,” he repeated quietly and then louder, “When I do, I’m thinking about what happened to you.”
My stomach churned, and I was for once grateful that I hadn’t eaten anything since lunch. “Rider—”
“I should’ve been there,” he stated, his eyes darkening. “I should’ve found a way to get back into that house. I knew that son of a bitch would do something with that doll eventually.”
I opened my mouth, but dammit, I had loved Velvet. Besides the fact that Rider had gotten her for me the day Miss Becky had taken him to the mall, she was the only thing for years that had been simply mine. The doll was not a hand-me-down. She belonged to no one before me and I hadn’t had to share her. The doll was all mine and she was beautiful.
Had been.
At twelve years old, I didn’t carry Velvet with me everywhere. I was too old for that, but Mr. Henry and Miss Becky knew how much I treasured that doll. Mr. Henry had gotten ahold of her and... Yeah, that hadn’t ended well.
Rider thrust his hand through his hair, clasping the back of his neck. “If I hadn’t talked back to him that night, that wouldn’t have happened. You wouldn’t have been left alone in there. You wouldn’t have seen what you did.” Dropping his hand, he tipped his head back. “It’s one of the biggest things I regret.”
“That?” I croaked. “It wasn’t...your fault.”
What happened wasn’t Rider’s fault.
“He threw the doll in the damn fireplace,” he said gruffly.
And in an ultimate act of desperation and stupidity, I’d tried to save the doll. If I hadn’t already seen what I’d seen that night, I might not have done what I had. The act with Velvet broke me. I panicked as I saw the only thing I’d ever owned, a gift from Rider, on the brink of being destroyed. I rushed past Mr. Henry and reached into the fire. I vaguely remembered Mr. Henry laughing and then there was this horrific screaming and this terrible smell.
The screams had been mine.
Rider didn’t say anything as he reached between us and picked up my left arm. His fingers were cool against mine as he pushed the sleeve of my shirt up to my elbow. He turned my arm over, like he had done the first day, in the parking lot.
“I still can’t believe there’s hardly any scar.” He smoothed his thumb just below my wrist, causing me to suck in a soft breath. The caress zinged all the way to my spine. “Just a little more pink than the rest of the arm. Amazing.”
My mouth dried. His thumb kept moving, traveling over my skin, making its way to my elbow.
“I wish this had never happened.” He swallowed. “I wouldn’t have lost...” Trailing off, he peered up through his lashes and grinned. “It worked out, though. Weird how something good can come out of such a big screw-up.”
“It wasn’t your fault,” I insisted, meaning it. “You couldn’t watch over me twenty-four hours a day. I wasn’t your responsibility.”
His gaze held mine and a moment passed where he seemed to be considering what he wanted to say. “Anyway,” he drew the word out. “None of that really matters, right? You don’t have anything to be embarrassed about. The way you talk isn’t a big deal. And if people are asses, they’re not important. Only you can let yourself make them important.”
“And what if none of that works?” I asked.
Rider’s lips tipped up at one corner. “I’ll just start beating people up.”
My brows flew up.
“Seriously.”
Tipping back my head, I laughed—laughed long and hard—and when I looked at him, he was staring at me in his intense way. “What?” I asked, my smile starting to fade slowly.
He gave a little shake of his head. “Nothing.” He paused. “It’s just that I haven’t heard you laugh like that in...yeah, a long time. It’s nice.”
I was smiling again.
“Really nice,” he repeated, and our gazes locked again. He was still holding my arm and his thumb was still moving in slow, smooth circles. “I hope you do it more often.”
Chapter 18
I knew this wasn’t happening.
In the furthest corners of my mind, I knew what I was seeing, what I was hearing, wasn’t occurring right now. I knew that, but I couldn’t pull myself out of it. Not when it started with the voices. Loud. Sharp. Explosive. Detonating a bomb loaded with terror.
Clapping my hands over my ears, I inched backward, pressing against the wall. I wanted to close my eyes, but I couldn’t. They felt like they were peeled wide open, held by tiny pins. The pain radiating from the center of my face was forgotten.