"What did they do?" he asked gently. His hands shook against her face, and his eyes were so intent, so focused on her that she felt . . . cherished.
She frowned as some of the memories rolled back through the shadows.
"They told me I was never going home. That I was serving a purpose. An insurance policy. What did they mean, Ethan? I don't understand."
His breath huffed out, and his fingers stilled against her cheek. "I don't know. But I'm going to find out. I swear it."
"Once when I tried to escape, they put me into this . . . cage. It was a box in the middle of the camp. The hot box they called it. One little hole at the top to let air in, but otherwise it was dark and so hot. I baked in it."
She shuddered involuntarily, and Ethan gathered her in his arms, pulling her close to his chest. His heartbeat thumped against her ear, and she could feel the rage billowing off of him.
"After that, they started with the drugs. I hated it. They frightened me so badly, but then I started needing it, and I only felt good when they gave me another injection. I hated them for that, for making me dependent on a drug for my sanity when all the while I was losing it bit by bit anyway."
"No, baby, don't," he protested.
"They used it to control me after that," she said, barging ahead, recalling the bitter hatred and the incessant need that even now still crawled through her body. "They'd withhold the drugs, knowing what it would do to me. They kept me in a constant state of withdrawal until finally I hated myself more than I hated them."
"God."
His body trembled against her. His shoulders heaved, and she thought he might be crying, but she was afraid to look up, afraid of her own tenuous grip on her emotions. If he broke in front of her, she would simply shatter.
"We're going to beat this, Rachel," he said fiercely. "You're already almost there."
She couldn't tell him that right now she wanted the needle more than she wanted to live. She couldn't tell him that she'd sell her soul for just a moment of sweet oblivion. And so she lay in his arms and said nothing and prayed that the incessant craving would somehow go away if she slept.
ETHAN snatched up the phone when it rang, hoping it wouldn't disturb Rachel. She was curled on the couch, a blanket tucked up to her chin, and she was sleeping peacefully. Perhaps the most peaceful rest she'd had in the three days since they'd gotten home.
"Hello," he said in a low voice as he walked toward the kitchen.
"You know if you'd just turn on your damn cell phone, you could put it on vibrate and not have to worry about someone waking Rachel," Sam grouched in his ear.
"Now, why would I want to make it so easy for the rest of you to get in touch with me?" Ethan drawled.
"How is she?" Sam asked, ignoring Ethan's teasing.
Ethan sobered and stole a glance in Rachel's direction.
"She's doing better. It's been rough. She hasn't been sleeping well. Between the lingering effects of withdrawal and her nightmares, neither one of us is getting much rest."
"You sound wiped," Sam said, concern bleeding into his voice.
"Nothing I can't handle."
"Mom is getting antsy. It's all I can do to keep her away."
Ethan sighed. "I know this is hard on everyone. There's nothing I'd like more than for everyone to see her again. Hell, I'm hoping she'll remember something or someone once she's reunited with the family, but she's just so fragile Sam. It's taking everything she has just to keep her feet beneath her."
"Have you taken her to the doctor here?"
"Yeah, almost the first thing I did. Got the name of a therapist in Clarksville I'm going to call as soon as Rachel feels ready. She seems willing enough to talk to me, but so far she's balked at going to anyone else."
"What does the doctor say about her physical condition?"
"Same as Maren said. She's extremely fragile. Undernourished. Her reserves are sorely depleted. He put her on a vitamin regimen and I'm feeding her three good meals a day with snacks in between."
"And the withdrawal?"
Ethan ran a hand through his hair and blew out his breath. "She's still jittery as a June bug at times. I know it eats at her a lot more than she admits. She's so stoic and I can't figure out if she's ashamed and doesn't want me to see or if she's somehow trying to protect me from the viciousness of what she's going through."
"That's a hell of a note," Sam muttered.
"Tell me about it. I'm supposed to be protecting her."
Ethan turned when a knock sounded at the front door.
"Shit, I need to go, Sam. Someone's at the door."
Sam paused. "It's probably Garrett. You had to know he'd be by to check in on you and Rachel."
"Yeah. I'll talk to you later, Sam."
Ethan hung up the phone and went to the front door. Indeed, it was Garrett, standing with his hands shoved into his pockets. He stared at Ethan and took a step forward. "Can I come in?"
Ethan opened the door wider. "Sure. Just be quiet. Rachel's sleeping on the couch."
"How are things?" Garrett asked as he followed Ethan into the house.
Ethan shrugged. "We're getting by."
"You look tired, man. Why haven't you asked any of us for help?"
The question came out gently, but to Ethan it still sounded like an accusation. Hell, he probably deserved it, but how was he supposed to explain to anyone how he felt? He'd lost her. For an entire year he existed with the knowledge that she was dead. And now by some miracle he had her back.
Garrett walked by the couch in the living room and looked down at Rachel. His gaze softened and he carefully touched her cheek. Then he glanced back up at Ethan.
"I think you should go over and see Mom and Dad. Hell, I don't even know if anyone told you that Joe and Nathan are home. They're anxious as hell to see you."
"Sam told me," Ethan said in a low voice. "I'm not going to leave her. I know everyone wants to see her. Believe me, I understand, but I have to do what's best for Rachel, and I'm worried about bombarding her with family right now."
"I wasn't suggesting you take her over yet. I agree you shouldn't overwhelm her too soon. But I think you should go over. Mom's worried sick about you. So is Dad."
"I can't leave her," Ethan said incredulously.
"I'll stay with her. She's sleeping. You need to get out, man. Get some fresh air. Breathe a little. You can't keep this up or you're going to fall apart, and then what good will you do her?"
Christ. Ethan swallowed. Garrett made all the sense in the world, but damn it, he didn't want to leave Rachel. Even for a minute. How could he explain the sheer panic he felt over the idea? What if he got over to Mom and Dad's and discovered this was all some bizarre fantasy?
Garrett walked over and put his hand on Ethan's shoulder. "Look, the way I see it you have two choices. You can get your ass in your truck and go see Mom and Dad for a couple of hours. Or, I can call Sam, Van, Nathan and Joe and have them come over and haul you out forcibly. Either way, you're getting out of this house for a while."
Ethan clenched his fingers into a tight fist. Never before had he wanted to hit someone like he wanted to hit Garrett right now. And Garrett knew it, but he just stood there, arms down, making no effort to defend himself.
"You need your family right now," Garrett said softly. "And Rachel needs you."
Ethan closed his eyes. "All right. I'll go. Swear to me you'll call if she needs me. Sometimes when she wakes up, she forgets . . . she forgets where she's at. You'll need to be right there so she doesn't panic."
Garrett cut him off before he could go any further. "Go. I can handle this. I'll watch over her for you."
Ethan took a breath and then turned away to look for his keys. When he found them, he walked over to the couch, where Rachel hadn't so much as stirred. For a moment he watched the soft rise and fall of her chest. A crease marred her forehead, and she looked worried even in sleep. He bent down and kissed away the wrinkle.
"Sleep well, baby," he whispered. "I'll be back."
CHAPTER 19
ETHAN got out of his truck, slammed the door then took a deep breath before heading to the front door of his parents' home. As much as he was looking forward to seeing Nathan and Joe, being away from Rachel, even for a few minutes, had him on edge.
The door flew open as soon as he mounted the steps, and his mother rushed out to greet him, her arms open wide. Though he swallowed her up, it was her doing most of the holding and hugging.