At least she was still talking. That was good.
After her restless night, I’d been concerned that she’d completely retreat into her shell. Although she hadn’t woken up screaming as she had those first few nights, she’d rarely stopped moving. Her arms, legs, and head had thrashed about causing the sheets and blankets to bunch and tangle in her limbs. Moans, both loud and soft, were constant visitors until the sun had started to rise in the sky.
I retrieved my laptop from the chair in her room and headed upstairs. She was still in the kitchen when I passed by, eating—or rather picking at—what was left of her food. The urge to go to her was strong, but I knew that I couldn’t. I wanted her to have time to gather her thoughts before we talked later, and that was something she needed to do without me hovering.
It was hard to concentrate on work, but somehow, I managed to get through the e-mails that needed my attention. The clock read three thirty by the time I was finished, and Brianna had yet to come upstairs. I’d heard her moving around downstairs, but not enough for me to decipher what she could be doing.
Figuring I needed a little moral support, I called Logan’s number. Thankfully, he picked up on the third ring. After the pleasantries were out of the way, he got down to business and asked me how the talk with Brianna went.
“She’s got more strength than she gives herself credit for,” he said once I’d brought him up to date on both our conversations last night and the one this morning.
“Yes, she does. I wish she would trust me more. There are still so many things that she keeps to herself.”
“Have you told her that?”
“What? Well, of course . . .” The more I thought about it, the more I realized that although I had told Brianna she could talk to me, told her that she could trust me, I had always tried to keep my feelings and wants under control. Maybe Logan was right and I needed to tell her specifically what I wanted from her. She hadn’t reacted badly when I’d told her I wanted her to stay last night. It might not be so bad.
“Thank you, Logan.”
“What are friends for?”