The Darkest Hour (KGI #1)(37)

Their truck kicked up a cloud of dust as they drove away. Moments later, Sam pulled onto a paved highway and sped up. Rachel looked curiously out her window, hoping something—anything—would register with her.

After several miles, she gave up. It looked like any place. She could be anywhere.

Rachel leaned into the curve of Ethan’s arm, and he immediately tightened his hold on her.

“You okay?” he murmured.

She nodded. She hadn’t completely shaken off the effects of her withdrawal. The last several days had been harrowing, an experience she never wanted to repeat. There was still an aching emptiness, a hollow void begging to be filled, but it was more bearable now. And she refused to give in. She wouldn’t be the only weak one amid these strong warriors.

Ethan had stuck by her side—he and Garrett. They’d taken turns holding her when she screamed and cried, when she’d begged for relief. At her most desperate hour, she’d pleaded with Ethan to get her the drugs.

He’d stood with her, fully clothed, in the shower when she’d been convinced she was covered with spiders. She still shuddered at the memory of the horrible creatures—hundreds of them—scuttling across her body.

After several seemingly endless days, the worst had been over. She was exhausted, and she knew Ethan and Garrett hadn’t fared much better.

“Where are we going exactly?” she asked. It was silly to ask. Ethan and Garrett had gone over the details of her homecoming numerous times, but she couldn’t help the anxiety that swam rivers through her mind.

She hadn’t realized that her hands were clasped together, her fingers twined so that the tips were white, until Ethan carefully pried them apart and laced her fingers with his.

“We’re going home. To our house, baby.”

She tried so hard to bring an image of their house to mind. Just a brief glimpse, something to tell her that she had a connection to the place she’d lived with her husband.

“I can’t remember,” she said in frustration.

Garrett turned in his seat, reached over to touch her knee, and as he’d done so many times over the last few days, he offered comfort with just a few well-placed words.

“You’re trying too hard, sweet pea. Relax and let it come to you. Even if you don’t remember now, there’s nothing to say that when you walk inside your own place, that it won’t all come back. And if it doesn’t? So what. You have all the time in the world.”

She let go of Ethan’s hand and grasped Garrett’s, squeezing with all her might. “Thank you. I love you.”

She gasped, completely mortified as the words escaped. Ethan stiffened beside her. She dropped Garrett’s hand and raised her fingers to her mouth, horrified by what she’d said.

Garrett stared back at her, no hint of emotion or judgment in his eyes. Just patient understanding and answering love. Why hadn’t she said those words to Ethan? Why Garrett?

Her gaze flew to Ethan, apology etched into every surface of her face. She wanted to scream it but was too embarrassed.

There was no anger in Ethan’s eyes, just a tightness as if he battled some unknown reaction. A sound from the front had her turning away. It was Sam. Laughing.

Sam glanced in the rearview mirror, a wide grin splitting his lips. “I’m seeing more and more of the Rachel we know and love all the time. You always were the most lovey, demonstrative woman I know.”

Ethan chuckled and seemed to relax against her. But she was too far rooted in regret to feel as if the awkward moment had passed. She closed her eyes and turned away, for the first time denying herself the comfort of his embrace.

“Rachel.”

Garrett’s deep voice washed like warm water over her ears.

Slowly she looked up until she locked gazes with him.

“I love you too, sweet pea. We all do.”

She smiled tremulously and nodded. Ethan’s hand crept back over hers, and he gave her a little squeeze. Gathering her courage, she peeked up at him, almost afraid of what she might see in his eyes.

She sucked in her breath at the shock of emotion she found. Raw, searing. She couldn’t breathe.

He touched her cheek, slid his finger underneath her ear and to her nape, and then he pulled her carefully forward until her lips were just a breath away from his.

“I love you,” he whispered.

“I—”

The words choked her, and before she could try again, his lips touched her cheek. Undemanding and so tender, almost as if he was afraid that the slightest pressure would make her fold.

The knot in her throat grew bigger, as did her panic. Why did the idea of saying the words that had come so naturally just a moment before instill such gut-wrenching fear?

She broke away, twisting in her seat as she gulped for air. Ethan touched her shoulder, tentative and seeking, but she flinched away. She was going to be sick.

“Sam, stop the truck,” Ethan barked.

He caught her arm as Sam veered off the highway. A few seconds later, her door flew open and she surged forward. Sam caught her as her knees buckled and she sank to the ground.

“Deep breaths,” Sam murmured. “Take it easy.”

She shook from head to toe. She was simultaneously hot and cold. Thick sweat soaked her clothing and yet she shivered. Rapid images, harsh and unrelenting, hammered her mind.

Ethan’s face harsh and drawn in anger. Shouting. Demands. Accusations. She covered her ears and shook her head, trying to shut out the ugliness.