Page 21 of Billionaire Unbroken - Asher
I tensed up.
Fuck!Was it really so damn obvious that I was broken?
“It’s no big deal,” she rushed to add. “I’ve been there myself, Asher. That’s why I recognize the signs.”
My muscles relaxed, and I definitely hadn’t missed the fact that she’d used my given name for the first time. Damned if Ididn’t like hearing my name on her lips. Maybe that was why I reluctantly admitted, “I’m broken.”
“You’re not broken,” she said firmly. “It’s not your fault. You just have to learn to reprocess your trauma. Therapy helped me. Have you ever thought about it?”
I took a deep breath.
I didn’t talk about myself or my issues, but since Sierra had confessed hers first, I felt a lot more comfortable telling her. “I started a few months ago, not long after I realized that Cole had found his woman. I knew his life was going to be different. He was going to get married, and I wanted to be there for that. He and Lauren will have a family someday, and I’d like to be a decent uncle. I’d also like to get to know my cousins here in Crystal Fork, but you know my tolerance for socializing isn’t good.”
She met my gaze, and the empathy in her gorgeous eyes made my gut hurt. “It will get better,” she said softly. “You’ve actually come a long way since we first met. I’ve noticed. Maybe you aren’t good with people around, but you’re getting better at it. Have they tried EMDR?”
She was right. I felt like the treatment was finally starting to kick in, and I was sleeping a lot better in the last month or so than I had in a long time.
I nodded. “That and other things. I know I need to desensitize myself, but I still don’t like social situations and crowds.”
“Didn’t I hear that you lived in the city before you moved back to Crystal Fork?” she asked.
“Yeah. Austin. It wasn’t always this bad. The last two years have been the worst. Traveling for business was a challenge, but I got through it because I have a private jet. In Austin, I pretty much became a hermit during my last year there. I avoided going out when I could. I’d go to my office, but I hatedit. Traveling for work was hell, so I did it as infrequently as possible. I’ve avoided travel altogether since I moved here.”
She nodded sympathetically. “I think the hardest part is admitting that you have a problem and stepping up for treatment. You’ve done the most difficult thing. It will just take time, Asher. I’m here if you ever want to talk.”
I didn’t.
I didn’t want to talk about any of it outside of therapy, but it didn’t seem so bad to discuss it with someone who had lived it.
“I don’t really want to discuss it,” I said in a graveled voice. “Do you want to tell me what happened to you?”
“Nope,” she said in a clipped voice.
Damn!
Maybe I didn’t want to tell my own story, but I sure as hell wanted to hear hers.
I wanted to know exactly what had happened to Sierra.
I hated the thought of her suffering with the same symptoms I had.
I’d never been a social guy with a lot of good friends, but the isolation of PTSD was torture.
Had there been someone in Sierra’s life to help her through it?
Looking at her now, I really didn’t see the signs that she’d been through PTSD herself.
“It took months for me to start feeling better,” she said, like she knew I was thinking about her own situation. “I went through close to three years of recovery and therapy. I can’t honestly say that I don’t have an occasional flashback, but my trauma doesn’t control my life anymore.”
Hell, I wished I could say the same, and my trauma was probably a hell of a lot older than hers. The therapist had called it delayed-onset PTSD, a condition that I’d probably never quite understand.
“Did you sell your big tech company and move to Montana because of your symptoms?” she asked as she put her utensils on her empty plate and picked up her coffee.
I shook my head. “Not really. Cole and I were ready to move on, but I won’t pretend that it wasn’t a relief to get out of Austin and away from the stress of running that company every day. Cole and I practically lived in our offices. I’m still busy with my other business interests, but it’s manageable.”
She sent me a skeptical look. “I’m not so sure about that. You seem to spend a lot of time in your office and working with your horses.”
I shrugged. “Not nearly as much as I used to, and I work remote now. And the thoroughbreds are more of a hobby than work for me. Breeding was something I always wanted to do, but we grew up dirt poor. I didn’t think it would ever happen when I was younger.”
