Page 61 of Nanny for the SEAL

My heart rate is way up, approaching the damn stratosphere, and suddenly all I can see is the flaring white of headlights and flashlights.

Tires are screeching beneath me, and I can hear screaming.

“No, no, no.”

I’m there again. The night I lost control of the car. I’m going to do it all over again. My pulse hammers in my throat, which feels like it’s closing up.

I can’t breathe, and the kitchen drops away, replaced by the interior of that demolished car.

“Shit, Xade. No, come on,” I mumble to myself, but my own voice sounds lightyears away.

It swirls higher and higher, the oncoming car zooming toward me too fast to stop and too slow to get through quickly.

“Hey, you’re okay. You’re right here.” I blink rapidly as Ivy’s arms wrap around my shoulders. “You’re safe.”

She’s right in front of me, and I zero in on those green eyes of hers. “Ivy?”

“Yes, it’s me. I’m right here with you.” She nods, holding my stare with a calm look on her face. “You’re at home. You’re with me and Daisy.”

My chest squeezes, and I look back toward the living room, hearing the sounds of that cartoon playing on the TV.

I’m home. I’m really home.

“I…” I look over at her as Ivy sinks down to her knees in front of my chair. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think…yeah, sorry. Wasn’t expecting that.”

She gazes up at me, her hands on mine as they lay in my lap. “It’s okay. Are you alright?”

Nodding slowly, I let out a deep exhale. “Yeah. I’m fine now.”

And then we just stare at each other, holding our gazes pinned to the other’s as the world starts to resolidify around me.

It’s not especially rare for me to be triggered like that. It’s just been a while since it happened, and this is the first time Ivy has seen it.

Part of me is embarrassed, feeling like a total chump for having a meltdown right in front of her. Still, another part is just glad that she was here to help me through it.

Dammit, I just want this to go away. I don’t want to feel like this anymore.

The sentiment isn’t new, but it feels more severe than ever. I don’t want to be this person around Ivy.

I don’t want to be her basket-case boyfriend.

There’s still a lotneitherof us is saying, apparently, and how exactly can I let myself be annoyed with Ivy’s lack of communication when I’m just as bad?

“Do you want to go relax? The dishes can wait.”

I swallow, chuckling half-heartedly. “Yeah. That’d be great.”

Ivy stands, taking my hand and leading me over to the living room. We sit on the other couch so that Daisy can still stretch out, and I try to let her little show pull my mind out of the past.

We both need to be honest with each other. It’s the only conclusion that I can come to after everything that’s happened over the past few weeks.

But…it still terrifies me.

She’ll blame you. She’ll know that it’s your fault Maeve is dead.

I’ve never said those words out loud to anyone, not even the therapist I saw after Maeve’s death, and they burn inside me like acid.

Ivy’s hand squeezes mine again, and I offer her a quick smile before turning my attention back to the TV. I need her here next to me like I need oxygen, and still, I feel horrible for pulling her into my life.

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