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?”
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