Page 6 of Never the Same

My newfound hope that everything would be okay because he was here was gone now that he was quietly crouched before me.

I couldn’t wrap my head around this. It made no sense.

“Why?” I pleaded, fighting back tears of betrayal.

He remained silent, and I flinched when something pricked the side of my neck, my body swaying within seconds.

A rush of heat flooded my veins, turning to ice. My fingers tingled, useless. My tongue became thick. My throat squeezed, fear taking over.

The shop light wavered like a candle flame, and the edges of my vision bled to gray. Everything became blurry, and every ounce of resistance slipped away as I closed my eyes.

Someone began talking.

Who was it? Him? I was being given instructions and . . .

“Hurry up and finish. We need to get her out of here,” someone else said close to my ear. His breath ghosted over my skin, the sound already stretching, distant, like it came through water.

Another jab hit me, this time at the base of my spine.

Pain flared, then dulled to a throb I couldn’t quite locate.

As the drugs flowed through me, I did what I was told to do, keeping my eyes sealed shut as images filled my head, ones that brought peace and comfort. Happiness.

Gone was my mum’s tough-as-nails daughter as I fell into a pair of familiar hands and did something I’ve never done in my life—surrendered.

Chapter Three

Reed

Charleston, South Carolina

Yesterday, I was in Panama, securing the canal after terrorists tried to wreak havoc there. And this morning? In my kitchen doing a crossword puzzle.

The whiplash between adrenaline-fueled missions and domestic downtime never got easier. One day, I was getting shot at. The next, I was wondering if seven down was gallant or valiant.

I scratched my jaw with the capped pen and hung my head as I reminded myself why I was doing this.

I was all for the daily workouts when I wasn’t operating, but sweating my balls off in a sauna, followed by brain exercises? That was taking some getting used to.

After listening to countless podcasts and reading a dozen books on my father’s condition in the last four months, I’d resigned myself to trying to help him, even if my old man didn’t deserve it. I also decided to make a few changes in my life to hopefully prevent the same outcome from happening to me.

Would I give up bourbon and beer like some medical sites said I should? Probably not.

Or stop putting my head in positions where it might get knocked around or even blown off? Not anytime soon.

But the other stuff? I supposed I could do.

As long as my head stayed attached to my body, I’d like to remember who I was. Though I wouldn’t mind selectively Control-Alt-Deleting a few memories. Like my entire childhood. Next, I’d eliminate the other dark and painful years from my past that were of my own making.

I lifted my head, tossed the pen, and stood. “How about we see if Chase is home?”

Ranger’s ears perked up. That was a yes.

“Get your leash.”

He eyed my chest, wise beyond his puppy years, signaling to me that I was shirtless.

“Right, right.” I smirked. “You. Leash.” I patted my chest. “Me. Shirt.” Great. Now I was grunting like a caveman, like he’d answer the same way.