Chapter 51

fifty-one

JACOB

In the early hours of Saturday morning, I walked into Pastor Adam’s living room. My feet dragged over the wooden floor, reminding me just how long it took for the effects of the drugs and the panic attack to go away. A bundle of blankets on the sofa moved.

Without thinking, I stepped backward, crashed into a table, and landed on the floor.

“Jacob? Are you all right?” Andrew leaped off the sofa and rushed toward me.

With a pounding heart, I looked into his worried face and sighed. He must think I was a complete idiot. If leaving the concert early wasn’t bad enough, I’d nearly had a heart attack when he’d turned over in his sleep.

The thumping of footsteps on the stairs didn’t bode well for a relaxing night for Pastor Adam, either. “What happened?” he asked as he tore into the room.

“It’s okay,” I reassured them. “I tripped over the table, that’s all.”

Andrew helped me to my feet. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

“I’m fine. I was on my way to the kitchen to get a glass of water.”

“How’s the headache?” Adam asked.

“Almost gone.”

“That’s great. Apart from a drink, do you need anything else?”

I shook my head. It was four o’clock in the morning. Adam and Andrew had busy days ahead of them, and I’d taken up enough of their time. “I’ll take some more drugs when I go upstairs.”

Adam yawned. “In that case, I’m going back to bed. I’ll see you in a couple of hours.”

Andrew waited until we were alone before studying me like a bug under a microscope. “Are you sure you’re okay? You still look as though you’ve been run over by a ten-ton truck.”

I almost smiled. “Is that your way of making me feel better?”

“It’s my way of finding out if you really are all right.”

I wanted to tell him I felt like a man standing on a cliff, waiting for one wrong move to send him over the edge. But Andrew wanted reassurance. He wanted to know I was okay. So I’d tell him what he wanted to hear and hope it gave one of us comfort.

“My head’s a little fuzzy from the drugs I took and I’m exhausted. But, other than that, I’m fine.”

Andrew rubbed his eyes. “I shouldn’t have asked you to go to the concert.”

“You didn’t know what would happen.” Guilt added another layer to my self-destructive mood. “I thought…” I crossed my arms in front of my chest. Half my problem was that I hadn’t thought. Loud noises and bright lights were a surefire way to trigger a panic attack, but I’d naively assumed that this time it would be different. For the last few weeks, the symptoms of my PTSD had almost disappeared. But last night, they’d come back with a vengeance.

I cleared my throat and continued. “I thought I’d be okay.”

Andrew picked up the blankets that had landed on the floor. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Reluctantly, I sat beside him. Talking about what had happened wouldn’t make the PTSD go away. If it did, I would have been cured years ago.

“When did you come to Pastor Adam’s house?” I asked Andrew.

“Straight after the concert. You were already asleep when I arrived.” Andrew tilted his head to the side. “Amy and her friends were amazing. They were still buzzing with excitement when I left.”

My shoulders tensed. “I wish I’d seen them.”

“You can. Liam recorded their performance and posted it on Facebook.” Andrew held my hand. “You’re not okay, are you?”

And just like that, a wave of utter despair rose inside me, washing away every shred of normality I hid behind. I couldn’t look at Andrew, wouldn’t let him see how much PTSD affected me.

“Is there anything I can do?”

I shook my head as hot tears filled my eyes. Biting my bottom lip, I desperately tried to hold onto the person Andrew saw each day. If I let him see this part of myself, my world would crumble, and I didn’t know what would be left.

Andrew knelt on the sofa and opened his arms. “Would you like a hug?”

I couldn’t move. When had it become so hard to accept comfort from another person? The man I loved was offering me a safe place to fall, somewhere to shelter when everything was too hard to handle. But I couldn’t take the first step.

With a heartfelt sigh, Andrew reached forward and wrapped his arms around me. “Everything will be okay.”

He didn’t realize how wrong he was. Each day, I had to be careful not to trigger the symptoms that crippled me. It was unfair to expect him to be there for me when I couldn’t do anything to help myself.

I was a broken man who desperately wanted a normal relationship. And as much as I craved a happy ending, I was worried my time with Andrew would end in tears.