The Forever Girl (Wildstone, #6)(26)

When she’d finally been removed from her mom’s custody by CPS, they’d put her through mandatory counseling. All these years later, that night of horror still pissed her off whenever she thought about it, but she didn’t feel scarred. She knew it hadn’t been her fault, she didn’t hate all men, and she could enjoy sex when she was in the mood.

She considered herself lucky more than a survivor.

But it turned out sometimes the brain played nasty tricks. Apparently, it didn’t matter how much time had passed—terror was terror, even in dreams. She hardly even registered grabbing her pillow and running for the closet, shutting the door behind her to curl up into the tiny space on the floor, the pillow over her head.

When the closet door opened, she cried out and shrank back against the wall, lost in the confusion between the dream and reality.

Strong, warm arms gathered her up against a broad chest. “Maze.”

She recognized the safety of that rough voice. It was embarrassing, but she clutched at Walker like he was her personal teddy bear.

“I’ve got you,” he said quietly, calmly, pressing his jaw to her, holding her tight to him, better than any teddy bear she’d ever had. “You’re safe and I’ve got you.”

And then he sat on the floor of the closet, his back to the wall, and held her while she cried herself out.

His big hand stroked her hair. “Want to talk about it?”

“No.”

“You’re not alone, Maze. You’re never alone. We’re all right here at your six.”

“Are you?” she whispered thickly.

“I might not be the most open guy, but I’ve never lied to you.”

That much was true. He’d always been honest, down to that long-ago Vegas morning when he’d woken up married to her and said, “I’ll take care of this, I’ll fix it.” At the memory, she closed her eyes tight.

The next time she woke up, she was back in bed, alone, and it was morning. She sat straight up and looked around. Jace was asleep on the floor.

Had it actually happened?

She looked at the closet. The door was open, a pillow on the floor in there.

Yep. It’d happened.

She covered her face and took in a deep breath, remembering the feel of Walker’s arms around her, holding her tight to him. He hadn’t pressed her to talk. He’d just chased away her nightmares and held her until she’d fallen asleep.

It embarrassed her that he knew everything about her, even the things she never talked about, when she knew only a few stark details of his past, nothing but the bare minimum. She didn’t know what to do with that. With any of it. So she did what she did best: lived in the land of denial. Stepping over a sleeping Jace, she got dressed.

You’re not alone, Maze. You’re never alone. We’re all right here at your six.

Walker’s words were stuck in her brain. Because she wanted to be at their backs too. It was time to give back to the people who’d given her so much, past time.

She found Caitlin in the kitchen mainlining coffee and frosting a pan of cinnamon rolls. Maze held out her hand.

“Touch this pan before I’m done and die.”

“Not the cinnamon rolls. I want your real to-do list. That’s right, I know you gave me just a few of the million things you’ve still got on your plate. I want the whole thing.”

“What? No.” She shook her head. “I don’t want to overwhelm you, Maze.”

“Woman, give me your list. I’m the maid of honor and your best friend, and it’s time I act like it. You’re drowning and I want to help.”

“Because . . . you love me?” Caitlin asked, brows up.

“Yes. Now hand it over.”

Caitlin laughed. “One of these days you’re going to say the words.”

Maze just gave her the gimme hands.

Caitlin pushed a huge three-ring binder across the table to Maze. It was stuffed to the gills with sticky notes and little pieces of paper sticking out of it at all angles.

“Funny,” Maze said.

Caitlin didn’t laugh.

Maze stared at her. “That’s your to-do list?”

“Yep.”

“It’s bigger than the Bible, Cat.”

Caitlin sighed. “I know, I know. Look, I used to dream about my wedding and what it would be like. I had it all planned out in my head for years. But let me tell you something, the reality of putting a wedding together is nothing like the fantasy. And leaving things to chance is not in my nature. Practice makes perfect.” She paused. “But to be honest . . . if I could go back and do it all over again, I’d elope.”

Maze caught the real emotion in Caitlin’s voice and her own heart squeezed. “Cat, you haven’t done it yet. If it’s making you this unhappy, it’s not too late.”

“I’m not unhappy,” Caitlin said. “I’m not,” she repeated when Maze seemed doubtful. “Ugh, don’t listen to me, okay? I’m just tired. I’m worried. It’s a lot to plan. I mean, we get a wedding rehearsal, but there’s no rehearsal for the reception and it’s starting to freak me out. Anything could go wrong. Hold on. I can fix that.” She wrote on a napkin: Have a practice reception.

Maze stared at the napkin. “You want to rehearse for what is basically a party?”