she’d agreed to meet Nate for coffee when he called her out of the blue yesterday. Amazing who came crawling out of the woodwork now that Sean’s name was back in the press.
She’d avoided most of them—especially Jimmy Caparulo, who had called every day since the news hit, and she couldn’t bring herself to call him back. She just didn’t feel up to dealing with the mixed emotions she had about the man who had once been as close as a brother to Sean. So close they’d gone to the army recruitment office together and been in the same class at Ranger school. She could have forgiven him for what he’d done to her. But she would never forget that it was Jimmy who had brought Sean and Evangeline Gordon together, Jimmy who had testified as a witness for the prosecution that he knew Sean had developed immediate and strong feelings for Evangeline the first time he met her at Club One.
Logically, Megan knew Jimmy hadn’t had any choice but to testify, and to his credit, he’d done his best to stand up for Sean and not let the prosecutors twist his words. He’d even emphasized his issues with drugs and alcohol to make himself seem less credible on the stand. But shecouldn’t get over the fact that if it hadn’t been for Jimmy, Sean never would have met Evangeline.
She knew Jimmy was genuinely sorry, for everything, but no matter how much she missed her surrogate brother from childhood, right now Megan couldn’t stand to talk to him, even to hear his apology.
But when Nate had called her earlier this week, she’d surprised herself by accepting his invitation to meet for coffee. Maybe because Nate was the only one of Sean’s friends to actually back off when she pushed everyone away, one of the few who didn’t keep trying to push their way back into her life, all the while looking at her with pity in their eyes—pity for her inability to accept the truth of what her brother had become. Her refusal to see the monster lurking within.
And unlike guys like Jimmy, Nate had emerged from his stint in the military unscathed from his combat tours. That alone made the prospect of seeing him again appealing. Megan could only handle one emotional breakdown at a time, thank you very much. Namely her own.
Five minutes past ten and Nate still wasn’t here. Maybe he was going to stand her up.
She felt equal parts disappointment and relief at the prospect as she sucked down the last of her coffee. She asked a girl with a nose ring and improbable red dreadlocks at the next table to keep an eye on her stuff while she went for a refill. She already had four cups churning in her gut, but after more sleepless nights, caffeine was the only thing keeping her on her feet.
She gave the cashier a quarter for her refill and dosed it heavily with cream and sugar. As she turned to walk back to her table, she got a prickly sensation at the napeof her neck, quickly followed by a nauseating twist in her stomach. The mug trembled in her hand, and coffee sloshed over her wrist. Megan didn’t flinch, oblivious as her heart pounded in her chest and cold sweat bloomed on her skin.
She took several deep breaths, trying to calm down before she succumbed to a full-fledged panic attack. The third one in two days.
She’d had her first attack three years ago, the week after Sean was arrested. At the time, she’d been convinced she was dying. She’d had them on and off throughout the year of his trial and had finally overcome them after a brief stint in therapy and a couple months on prescription antianxiety meds.
She hadn’t had one in years; then—bam—the other day after she’d left Club One, it had hit her like a freight train. At least this time she knew what was happening. She knew she wasn’t dying and had the presence of mind to pull over before she plowed into a parked car. Though she’d shaken off the attack, a looming sense that her world was about to come to an end stayed with her.
p height="0em" width="27"> Because it would.
She’d avoided most of them—especially Jimmy Caparulo, who had called every day since the news hit, and she couldn’t bring herself to call him back. She just didn’t feel up to dealing with the mixed emotions she had about the man who had once been as close as a brother to Sean. So close they’d gone to the army recruitment office together and been in the same class at Ranger school. She could have forgiven him for what he’d done to her. But she would never forget that it was Jimmy who had brought Sean and Evangeline Gordon together, Jimmy who had testified as a witness for the prosecution that he knew Sean had developed immediate and strong feelings for Evangeline the first time he met her at Club One.
Logically, Megan knew Jimmy hadn’t had any choice but to testify, and to his credit, he’d done his best to stand up for Sean and not let the prosecutors twist his words. He’d even emphasized his issues with drugs and alcohol to make himself seem less credible on the stand. But shecouldn’t get over the fact that if it hadn’t been for Jimmy, Sean never would have met Evangeline.
She knew Jimmy was genuinely sorry, for everything, but no matter how much she missed her surrogate brother from childhood, right now Megan couldn’t stand to talk to him, even to hear his apology.
But when Nate had called her earlier this week, she’d surprised herself by accepting his invitation to meet for coffee. Maybe because Nate was the only one of Sean’s friends to actually back off when she pushed everyone away, one of the few who didn’t keep trying to push their way back into her life, all the while looking at her with pity in their eyes—pity for her inability to accept the truth of what her brother had become. Her refusal to see the monster lurking within.
And unlike guys like Jimmy, Nate had emerged from his stint in the military unscathed from his combat tours. That alone made the prospect of seeing him again appealing. Megan could only handle one emotional breakdown at a time, thank you very much. Namely her own.
Five minutes past ten and Nate still wasn’t here. Maybe he was going to stand her up.
She felt equal parts disappointment and relief at the prospect as she sucked down the last of her coffee. She asked a girl with a nose ring and improbable red dreadlocks at the next table to keep an eye on her stuff while she went for a refill. She already had four cups churning in her gut, but after more sleepless nights, caffeine was the only thing keeping her on her feet.
She gave the cashier a quarter for her refill and dosed it heavily with cream and sugar. As she turned to walk back to her table, she got a prickly sensation at the napeof her neck, quickly followed by a nauseating twist in her stomach. The mug trembled in her hand, and coffee sloshed over her wrist. Megan didn’t flinch, oblivious as her heart pounded in her chest and cold sweat bloomed on her skin.
She took several deep breaths, trying to calm down before she succumbed to a full-fledged panic attack. The third one in two days.
She’d had her first attack three years ago, the week after Sean was arrested. At the time, she’d been convinced she was dying. She’d had them on and off throughout the year of his trial and had finally overcome them after a brief stint in therapy and a couple months on prescription antianxiety meds.
She hadn’t had one in years; then—bam—the other day after she’d left Club One, it had hit her like a freight train. At least this time she knew what was happening. She knew she wasn’t dying and had the presence of mind to pull over before she plowed into a parked car. Though she’d shaken off the attack, a looming sense that her world was about to come to an end stayed with her.
p height="0em" width="27"> Because it would.
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