The Memory of You (Sanctuary Sound #1)(97)

“I’ve tried, but she doesn’t believe in therapy, and she doesn’t think she needs it because, in her mind, she was only mugged. How will I convince her to go without telling her what I know?”

“Keep pressing the safety angle with respect to the blackouts. I can give you a few referrals.”

“I’m not in Boston anymore. I’m in Connecticut.”

“A classmate of mine who specializes in trauma recovery is at Yale, if that’s not too far from you.”

Ryan scribbled down the contact info, thanked her for her time, and made another call. Once again he felt the hand of fate intervene. A cancellation enabled him to set up an appointment for Steffi the next day. Now he just had to get her there.

He’d do his best not to mention the file, but failing that, he’d confess what he’d done, stay with her until morning, and pray that the right kind of help could save them both. After weeks of having little to no control over so much in his life, it did feel good to finally have a plan.

He’d forgiven her mistakes, so she should forgive him this one time, especially because he’d only gone behind her back to help her.



Ryan barely muddled through his meeting with his boss, knowing that what Billy had done for him could get them in hot water. He pulled up to his mother’s house, still debating his options.

His mother would know how to coax Steffi into therapy. He trusted her judgment, and she knew Steffi well. But disclosing the deeply personal history would be an even worse betrayal than what he’d already done, so he was out of luck and on his own. He popped another Pepcid and wandered toward the house.

Steffi expected him and a pizza at the Weber bungalow soon. He didn’t have much time to prepare.

“Dad!” Emmy called when he came inside. “I thought you weren’t having dinner with us. We’re making burgers and Tots.”

“I can smell them.” He kissed her head and squeezed her extra hard. God help anyone who ever hurt his daughter. He wanted to bundle her up away from the violent world to a place where she wouldn’t know betrayal or harm of any kind. “I’m actually meeting Steffi in a bit. She needs my help . . .”

His voice had cracked, so he swallowed.

Emmy cocked her head like a puppy dog. Her small brown brows pinched together as she touched his face. “You look sad.”

He took her fingers and kissed them. “I had a hard day.”

“Then stay home now.” She hugged him. “We can play a game.”

He held her tight and kissed her head. “Tomorrow, okay? I promised Steffi I’d help her work on that cottage at the end of the lane. She’s starting to take out all the old stuff so she can fill it with pretty new things.”

It helped to think of what he planned to do as being like Steffi’s work. Breaking down her mental block so that, with love and therapy, they could rebuild her wounded parts into something even stronger and more beautiful.

“Can I help?”

“Not tonight. There will be lots of ways you can help in the coming months.” He smiled, grateful that his daughter’s frosty attitude toward Steffi might begin to thaw. Hopefully, Steffi wouldn’t give them both the cold shoulder after she learned what he’d done. If so, he might not forgive himself for hurting his daughter again, too. “I need to change my clothes. Finish up your homework after dinner. When I get home, maybe we’ll have time for a story or something.”

“Okay.” Emmy heaved an exaggerated sigh before bounding back to the kitchen.

He climbed the stairs, the task ahead dragging at him, not nearly as clear-cut in reality as it had been in theory. Few things in life ever were.

When he came back downstairs, his mother was folding a throw and laying it over the back of the sofa. “Emmy says you’re off to the Weber house to help Stefanie now.”

“Yep.” He avoided making eye contact because his hawk of a mom would know something was wrong if she studied him too closely.

“Such a quaint old house. You really ought to buy it so you’d have privacy with the convenience of being neighbors.”

“You’re worse than Steffi with that refrain.” He finally looked at her, a faint smile lifting the corners of his mouth.

“Great minds.” She winked. “When you get back, your dad wants help moving our dresser. The family room project has inspired me to do a little rearranging elsewhere.”

“This could be a late night. How about tomorrow?” He tucked the rolled-up report into his barn coat. “I’m late, so I’ll see you later.”

“Have fun!” she called out as he closed the door.

Fun? Not likely.

He’d consider it a victory if he returned home with his body and heart intact.





Chapter Twenty-One

Ryan strode up the porch steps of the bungalow that had been his and Steffi’s dream home. Like most teens, he’d been certain of everything despite knowing almost nothing.

At thirty-one, he’d learned that dreams without commitment were just fanciful wishes. There was no foolproof plan to turn a dream into reality, either, because events beyond your control could force choices that pushed it out of reach. Even now, his good intentions threatened to destroy his new reality.

He knocked on the door before opening it and poking his head inside. “Steffi?”