Nonstop (Open Skies Book 3) Read online

  Chapter 5

  “So, how are you feeling?” Dr. Rawlins asked as soon as Bex sat down for her mandatory weekly counseling session on Friday.

  She shrugged. “Not too bad, I guess.” She picked on a thread on her jeans, not making direct eye contact with Jane, as the counselor had insisted she call her even though Bex found that impossible.

  “You look tired. Are you sleeping?”

  Another shrug.

  “I’ll take that as a no.”

  Bex lifted her gaze and sighed. “I usually sleep about two hours at a time before I wake up in a cold sweat, gasping.”

  Jane nodded. “It’s not unusual, but we need to get you past that.”

  Bex wasn’t sure she’d ever get past it. What Jane didn’t know was that Bex had had insomnia for years, extending back far longer than the airline incident three weeks ago. Granted, it had gotten worse in the last few weeks, but it was the same old thing.

  Bex was here to work through her issues from the hostage situation she experienced with Christa, not to discuss some previous trauma, and she intended to stick with that plan. Jane didn’t need to know about old wounds. Her job was to get Bex through this particular event and back on the job.

  The problem was, Bex couldn’t imagine returning to her job as a flight attendant. Not now and probably not in three more weeks of therapy either. That fact scared her to death.

  Maybe other people would say what needed to be said to the counselor in order to pass some sort of mental fitness test and get back to work as fast as possible, but Bex didn’t really hold back about her issues because she couldn’t fathom returning anyway. She just hadn’t said it out loud yet. Not to Jane. Not to her boss. And not to any of her friends and coworkers.

  “What do you think wakes you up? Do you have a reoccurring nightmare?”

  That was an understatement. “I guess.” Bex was intelligent enough to realize that her nightmare had very little to do with that particular day three weeks ago. Unfortunately, something about watching Christa taken hostage by a madman had triggered old memories. Nope, the night terrors that yanked Bex out of sleep were not caused by visions of Christa being held against her will. They were far worse than that.

  “Can you remember anything when you wake up?”

  Bex shrugged. “Not really. More like a feeling of not being able to breathe. I think that’s why I gasp.” This was all true. She jerked awake most nights sucking in air as if someone were choking her. In her nightmare, someone was choking her.

  “Again, it’s not unusual, Bex. You watched that man haul your friend off the plane with an arm around her neck. You probably worried she wouldn’t be able to breathe.”

  Bex nodded. Sure. If Jane could rationalize it, why not let her?

  “What have you been doing in your free time while you’re not working?” Jane asked.

  Bex was surprised to find herself smiling. “Dating actually. I met someone. I mean, we sort of knew each other through mutual friends, but he asked me out.”

  Jane smiled. “That’s good. And he knows what happened to you?”

  Bex nodded. “He was there. He was one of the men who helped end the standoff.”

  “Ah, I see. So, he’s understanding of your situation.”

  “Yes. Very.”

  “Good. Does he know you’re not sleeping? Have you been with him when you had one of these episodes?”

  Bex shook her head. “God, no. I haven’t slept with him. I wouldn’t want him to have to deal with that.”

  Jane frowned. “You don’t think he would be sympathetic?”

  “It’s not that. He’s very kind and understanding. I just don’t want to talk about it. The relationship is new. I don’t want to rock that boat.”

  “It’s a part of you though. One that’s not likely to go away abruptly. I’d like to work through it so that the night terrors become less frequent over time so you can get more sleep, but it’s not going to happen all at once.”

  “Yeah. I’m sure I’ll have to explain it to him eventually, but I’m not ready yet. He’s retired from the Army. Special forces in fact. I’m sure he’s dealt with hundreds of situations far worse than my wussy involvement with one human trafficker on US soil.”

  “True. But remember, he was trained to manage this type of thing. You were not. And we all process grief and trauma in our own ways. If he can’t be supportive of your reactions, he’s not worth it anyway. I think you should consider talking to him about it. I think you’d feel better.”

  “I’ll think about it.”

  “Good. Now tell me what else you’ve been doing.”

  Bex went on to talk about her baking which had become a daily thing. She got up most mornings, planned what she wanted to concoct, went to the store to get the ingredients, and then spent hours in the kitchen making all kinds of pastries, cakes, and cookies.

  This part of her life brought her joy. It made everyone around her happy too. Her friends always took a plate of confections home to their men, and Bracken raved about her every time she gave him a new batch of desserts.

  She’d seen him nearly every night this week. He usually worked mornings and then came by her condo in the afternoons to either hang with her or take her out.

  Meanwhile, she’d spent her mornings baking, so by the time he arrived, the condo smelled amazing, and he could try her wares. It was impossible to know if he truly loved her baking or if he was being polite, but he seemed sincere, and considering the fact that he too enjoyed baking, his opinion meant a lot to her.

  Bex was relieved when the session ended. She didn’t have to talk about her feelings with Jane again for seven whole days. She took long deep breaths on the way home, shaking off the stress of another counseling session.

  Bracken was going to pick her up at six. She wanted to be dressed and ready on time. He hadn’t told her where they were going yet. That seemed to be a theme with him. He liked to surprise her. She didn’t mind, but getting dressed was always a bit of a challenge.

  Tonight, he’d told her to dress nice, so when she got home she took extra care to put on her favorite little black dress and curl her hair in long ringlets. As she applied her makeup, Shayla walked in and whistled. “Girl, you look amazing.”

  Bex rolled her eyes and laughed. She had a running joke with her girlfriends that she was the boring one among them. They were each rather exotic. Libby was from Guatemala and had sexy Latin looks. Christa was a true blond with pale skin. Shayla’s mother was from Thailand, so she had gorgeous olive skin and perfect dark hair.

  Bex considered herself generic, though they all groaned about it whenever she joked. Brown hair, green eyes, tanned skin. Generic American. It was all in good fun. After all, Bex was aware that her eyes were a lovely shade and her hair was thick with the perfect amount of body that meant she could wear it straight or curl it if she chose. In addition, she had a round face with a small button nose and full lips. Definitely generic, but nothing to complain about.

  “Where’s he taking you this time?”

  Bex giggled. “No idea. He likes surprises.”

  “Apparently. How fun though. I like him. He’s obviously into you, so I like him more every time he picks you up.”

  “Yeah. I kinda like him too.” Bex continued to apply her mascara.

  “You’ve seen him nearly every day since last Saturday, and when you aren’t with him, he calls a lot. I’ve heard you in here quietly talking. Are you finally going to take a bag and stay over at his house tonight?” Shayla leaned in the doorway, twirling a lock of hair, a dreamy look on her face as if she were living vicariously through Bex. Funny, since she’d be sorely disappointed if she knew the truth. “The man always drives you back here at the end of the night.”

  Bex shrugged. “I don’t know. That’s a huge step.” She really didn’t want to get into this with Shayla, or any of her other friends for that matter. She was kind of glad she hadn’t worked for three weeks because normally she worked the same shift as
Christa, and she’d be getting the third-degree regularly if she were working the redeye every night.

  “How is sleeping in the man’s bed a huge step?”

  Bex sighed. “I don’t want to keep him up. I toss and turn a lot.”

  Shayla frowned. “I’m sure he realizes you’re still recovering from a tremendous trauma. I doubt he’d mind. Surely, it would be preferable to putting all your clothes back on at the end of the night so he can drive you back across town.” She wiggled her eyebrows.

  Bex swallowed as she bent down and opened a drawer on her vanity, pretending to look for the right shade of lipstick. She never discussed her sex life with the other women. She didn’t mind when they discussed theirs, but she kept her mouth shut, giving them the impression she was private about it.

  “We’ll see,” she finally added, beyond relieved when the doorbell rang.

  Shayla spun around. “I’ll let him in.”

  Bex took one more look in the mirror. Shayla’s comment made her think. What if Bracken discussed his sex life with his friends? What if in so doing, they all knew that the two of them had not had sex and then they told their girlfriends who were Bex’s friends. Ugh.

  On that note, she was nervous as she descended the stairs, biting on her bottom lip and ruining the lipstick she’d carefully applied.

  When she spotted Bracken, she stopped walking halfway down the stairs. Damn, the man looked fine. She’d seen him in a suit before at Destiny’s wedding, but she hadn’t been interested in him yet at the time, so she hadn’t paid close attention. Tonight… Just damn… Black pants. White shirt starched from the dry cleaner. Black tie. Mouthwatering.

  He shot her an amazing smile as she finally managed to continue her descent, and he held out the bouquet of flowers he was carrying when she reached him.

  Her heart pattered as she took them and leaned over to smell their fragrance. A colorful assortment. “Thank you,” she murmured.

  “I wasn’t sure what flowers you liked. We haven’t discussed that topic. But I also realized I’ve taken you out far too many times now to not have brought you flowers yet.”

  Her face heated.

  “Want me to put them in a vase for you?” Shayla asked.

  Bex realized she was rooted to her spot, still staring at Bracken. “Oh, yes. Thank you.” She handed them to Shayla.

  As soon as Shalya turned her back, Bracken cupped Bex’s face and kissed her briefly. “You look amazing.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Ready?”

  She grabbed her small black purse and nodded. “Yep.” Hopefully, she wouldn’t trip and fall in her heels. She didn’t wear heels too often, and he seemed to scramble her brain enough to make her forget she was supposed to be walking.

  Luckily, he held her elbow as they headed for his car, and then, as usual, he helped her into the seat before shutting the door and rounding the hood.

  She took a deep breath. Her last conversation with Shayla wouldn’t leave her mind. Now she was flustered worrying about everyone knowing about her lack of a sex life.

  When Bracken entered the car, she was biting her lower lip again. He frowned. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.”

  He narrowed his gaze and reached for her hand. “I’m getting better at reading you. Talk to me.”

  “Shayla thought I should bring a bag to your house,” she blurted out before she could stop herself.

  Bracken let his gaze roam her face. “Did you want to bring a bag to my house?”

  Bex shook her head.

  “Then why does it matter what Shayla thinks?”

  Bex sighed. “It made me think.”

  He waited and then cupped her face. “About what?”

  “Well, women talk. When we get together, my friends talk about their sex lives. Do men do that too?”

  He held her gaze, his brows narrowed. Finally, he seemed to catch on. “Are you asking me if the guys know anything about our sex life?”

  “Well…yeah.”

  He shook his head. “Nope. None of their business. First of all, I’m not much into sharing about the women I date. And second of all, I would never break that confidence with you. The guys have no idea what our sex life entails.”

  “Okay.” She blew out a breath. That calmed her. At least she didn’t have to face the third degree from her friends.

  “When you say your friends discuss their sex lives, I assume you mean that you never contribute to that discussion?”

  “Right. I mostly just let them think I do the same kinds of things. It’s just…easier.”

  “I get it. Rebekah, you never need to worry about me on this issue. Whatever happens between us is between you and me. I would never breathe a word to anyone else.”

  She nodded. “Thank you.”

  He smiled, leaned over, kissed her, and then started the car.

  Bex had a pile of fucked-up issues, but she could check that one off the list.

  Chapter 6

  When they arrived at Bass Performance Hall, Bracken knew he’d made the right choice. Bex’s face lit up with shock and surprise. She turned to stare at him with wide eyes. “What are we seeing?”

  “The Fort Worth Symphony Orchestra.”

  Her smile widened further.

  Bracken felt like he’d won the lottery as he led her inside and found their seats. She had told him she enjoyed orchestra music. She’d also told him she’d never been to a symphony. Apparently, it was on her bucket list.

  He held her hand in his, and she leaned close to him as the lights went down, and for the next two hours, he was graced with a side view of her expressions as she thoroughly enjoyed every moment of the musical arrangements.

  “That was amazing,” she told him as they filed out with the rest of the crowd. “Thank you so much. Best date ever.”

  He settled a hand on the small of her back and led her down the block to the restaurant where he’d made reservations. There was nothing quite like dating a woman who got wide-eyed with pleasure every time he took her out. It was good for his ego.

  As usual, he enjoyed watching her select her food and then enjoy it. She was opening up to him more and more every time he saw her, talking more, getting comfortable. She savored every bite of her fish, even moaning around a few morsels.

  Thank God his cock was under the table and out of view because the woman made him hard every time he was with her. He was growing used to palming himself daily in the shower when what he’d rather be doing was touching her. He wouldn’t though. She needed time. He would give her all the time in the world. He didn’t have a choice. He was into her, and she was reserved.

  She looked gorgeous tonight. The black dress was perfect for her. Short. Fitted across her chest. Loose around her hips. He wondered what she wore underneath and if there was a snowball’s chance he would get to find out tonight. Baby steps he reminded himself.

  Advancing their relationship to the next level was frequently forefront in his mind, but he had a pile of concerns too. Namely her age. She was so young and full of life. In comparison, he’d been feeling old and boring lately. Not just boring, but bored also. He enjoyed working part-time for Tank, but it was just a job. Nothing special. Until he’d started spending time with Rebekah, he’d had way too much time on his hands. Now… Hell, now he sometimes felt guilty for seeing her every day. Shouldn’t she be dating someone closer to her age?

  When he allowed himself to consider that line of thinking, he ended up with his hands fisted. The thought of her with someone else didn’t appeal to him at all, especially assholes like that Roger guy.

  Shaking his running list of concerns from his mind for the sixth day in a row, he focused on the amazing woman in front of him.

  He could tell she put a lot of effort into her appearance tonight. Her hair was curled around her face. Her makeup was subtle but carefully applied. She was damn sexy in those heels. And he could only pray he could continue to give her the time she needed to get comfortable wit
h him without embarrassing himself at some point. It was only a matter of time before she noticed he frequently had a hard-on.

  Most evenings, she’d come to his house. They’d watched movies, cooked, listened to music. They usually ended up on the couch, her curled into his side. He loved every moment and did his best to keep her from bumping into his cock.

  After dinner, they walked hand in hand back to his SUV. “You want to go back to my place for a while? Or are you tired?”

  “Your place.” She flashed him one of her nervous smiles.

  God help him.

  “Oh, how did it go with your counselor today?” He glanced at her while he drove. “I forgot to ask.”

  “Fine.”

  He reached for her hand and gripped it. “Just fine? Is she helpful?”

  Bex shrugged. “Not really. I mean, I’ve gone to counseling before. It always feels kind of useless. Me sitting on her couch telling her I’m not sleeping well. Her telling me it takes time. Blah blah blah.”

  He frowned. “Are you still having a hard time sleeping?”

  She tensed. Perhaps she hadn’t quite meant to reveal that much. She didn’t usually talk about her inability to sleep, though he suspected as much. And her counselor was right. It was normal. “It’s no big deal.”

  He didn’t pressure her. That never went well. If she wanted to tell him more, she would. “I know sometimes it’s hard to talk to a stranger, and for all intents and purposes, that counselor is a stranger. You’ve only known her a few weeks. You know I’m here for you if you need me, right? If there’s anything you want to discuss, I mean.”

  “Sure. Thanks. I’m good.”

  Was she?

  She was staring out the window, not meeting his gaze, not even when he came to a stop at a light.

  He lifted her hand and kissed her knuckles before rubbing them against his cheek. He had to admit to himself he was selfishly concerned. More about himself than her. Every day he grew closer to her. Did she feel the same? Meanwhile, she still held herself at arm’s length, not quite fully opening up. It made him nervous. What if she never learned to trust him enough to relax entirely with him?