The Singles Table (Marriage Game #3)(79)

“Jay?” Zara tugged his hand. “Come on. Let’s get inside.”

His heart pounded so hard he thought it would break a rib. Flashes of noises and images burst into his mind, stealing his breath away. A deafening crack. Flames. Twisted metal. Blood and falling bodies. Nausea gripped his belly and the world shifted beneath his feet.

“Jay!” Zara’s voice was further away but sharp with concern.

Sweat beaded on his forehead and his stomach clenched with a violent pain that took his breath away. He braced himself with a shaking hand on the brick wall and tried not to give in to the black haze creeping in the sides of his vision. Terror. Panic. Screaming— God, the screaming.

“Jay? Talk to me. What’s wrong?” Gentle hands cupped his face, cool and soothing, but she couldn’t take his pain away.

He felt like he was choking, had to force out the words. “Just. Need. A. Minute.”

“Parvati!” Zara’s shout echoed around them, bouncing off the wall, the awning, the pavement under his feet. “Something’s wrong with Jay.”

Hands on his arms. Fingers on the pulse of his neck, his wrist. Dark eyes blinking up at him. A hazy face.

“Looks like a panic attack.” Calm voice. Cool tone. Confident. “You said he was in the air force. It might be PTSD. Help him to the bench.”

Panic? He didn’t panic. He had been trained not to panic. He had banished the panic along with the memories of the helicopter going down.

Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to stand tall, pushed the fear back inside, back to the land of nightmares. His mother was in there and she needed him. He was no use to her standing outside. “I’m good.” He shrugged off the hands, resisted the pull of the bench and the oblivion that waited if he didn’t get a handle on this right now. Closing his eyes, he locked it down using the sheer power of his will.

“I think you should sit down.” Zara tugged his hand.

“I said I’m fine,” he barked. “You don’t need to be here. Just go.” Civility was a luxury he couldn’t afford when it was taking all his effort to stay in control, to fight the horror of the past and the fear of losing his mom, of being finally and utterly alone. Body and mind on the edge, he couldn’t handle emotion right now, especially not the complicated emotional tangle that was Zara Patel.

“I want to be with you,” she said. “I want to be here for you.”

“I can’t.” He ripped his hand out of her grasp. “I can’t handle this right now. Zara, please just go.”



* * *



? ? ?

The nightmare woke him. It was always the same. One moment he was trading jokes with JD. The next moment JD was gone, and the world was smoke and fire and twisted metal and a hole where the controls were supposed to be. And then he was falling, spinning, the wind whistling through the shattered window, men screaming . . . Storm. Where was Storm? So much loss. So many souls. His heart breaking. The ground rushed up to greet him and he braced for the impact. This time he would do it right. This time he would go with them. This time he would be free.

“Jay. Wake up.”

Heart racing, Jay jerked awake, his body drenched in sweat, his stomach roiling. Half in and half out of the nightmare, he shook his head, tried to clear the cobwebs from his brain. It had been worse this time, so much worse. So real. He could still smell the fuel, still feel the ache in his chest from the harness, the burn on his hand when he’d reached for a yoke and found flames instead.

“Jay.”

A woman’s voice. Low. Urgent. A waver of fear. Still, he didn’t understand. Still, he heard the screams, felt terror wrap icy fingers around his heart.

“It’s me. Zara.”

He blinked, vision clearing as he pulled himself out of the nightmare. Zara stood at the foot of his bed, one hand over her eye. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to check on you. When you didn’t answer the door, I asked your super to let me in. He knew me from the last time I was here. He was picking crab apples, and I gave him my aunt’s recipe for crab apple jelly . . .” She trailed off, shaking her head. “It doesn’t matter. You were having another nightmare. Worse than the other ones. I shook you and . . .” She dropped her hand. “I shouldn’t have touched you.”

He stared at her in horror. “I hurt you.”

“I’m okay,” she said lightly. “No damage. I just need some ice.”

He pushed himself up, jaw clenched at the raw sting of being so brutally exposed. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“I was worried about you. When I found out your mom was out of surgery, I called but you didn’t answer. A nurse at the hospital said a doctor had checked you out and insisted you go home. Did he give you something to help you sleep? I can ask Parvati . . .”

“No. I don’t need anything.” He was barely hanging on, his emotions raw and bare, the dark silent part of him still caught in the threads of the nightmare. He’d lost everyone—JD, his men, Storm. Tonight he’d almost lost his mom. And now Zara was here, seeing him weak when he was supposed to be strong, suffering because he’d lost control of his demons. He was no good for anyone. He’d been a fool to think he was. “Go home, Zara. Leave me alone.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” she said firmly. “If this were my family and my dad was in the hospital, I wouldn’t be alone for a minute. My apartment would be filled with aunties and uncles, the counters would be heaving with food, and someone would have rented a room in the hospital so people could be there for him when he woke up. We are not meant to go through life’s challenges alone. We don’t have to shoulder all the burdens. That’s what family is for, and since your family is in the hospital, you get me. I don’t have to sleep with you. The couch is fine. But if you need to talk, or you need a hug, or you just need to turn on the television and have a warm body beside you, I’m here. I’m not a great cook like my aunties, but I’ve brought some groceries and I stopped at an Indian restaurant to bring some takeout so you’re not going to starve.” She turned away. “I’ll be in the living room if you need me.”