“You’re not dumb,” she said fiercely.
He grinned and smoothed his thumb over her lips. “Still as feisty as ever when it comes to sticking up for those you love. Anyway, my granddad on my mom’s side had blue eyes, so Mom obviously carries the gene or whatever you call it. Geesh, I haven’t done those stupid gene squares since high school.
“And yes, I look the most like Garrett, but you and Garrett were . . . close. That’s probably why you remember him.”
“I don’t remember your other brothers at all. Or your mother.” She sighed. “How can I face them all when they’ll be strangers to me?”
Ethan shifted his weight slightly, and he scooted lower into the bed until their noses were just a breath apart.
“This isn’t about them. It’s about you. They aren’t going to be angry. Sad? Probably, but it’s because they love you and they hate what happened to you. They want you to be happy. They want you to get your life back, your health and your memories.”
Her breath escaped in an unsteady hiccough. “Ethan?”
He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear in a loving gesture. “Yes, baby?”
She licked her lips. “I don’t remember a lot about what happened. I mean I remember pieces, like when one of the men tried ...” She clamped her lips shut for a moment but then shook off her shame and reluctance. She had nothing to be ashamed of. Nothing. They tried to take everything from her. She did nothing to bring about their actions.
Ethan’s fingers stilled on her cheek, but she felt more than saw the shudder roll up his big frame.
“What did he try?” he asked in a low voice.
“He tried to hurt me,” she said vaguely. “But another man stopped him. I don’t know why, but he got the man off me and gave me back my clothes.”
Ethan’s face was a rigid, immovable stone. Only his eyes betrayed the raw emotion burning inside.
“Did he ever try again?”
“I don’t think I was raped,” she whispered. She looked searchingly up at him. “Wouldn’t I know? How would I be able to forget something so terrible? I remember everything else, I mean about what they did.”
“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.”