Sara Stone - Full Exposure

Eric walked into the kitchen and dropped his briefcase. That sound—he’d never heard anything like it. It was part scream, part agony. It echoed against his walls, infiltrating every inch of his home.

He ran for the stairs, taking them two at a time, bypassing Nate’s still-quiet bedroom—thank God—and headed for Georgia’s room at the far end of the long hall. There were no longer words. Just high-pitched, seemingly endless screams.

Questions ran through his head. Had someone broken in? He slowed, steps from Georgia’s door. Should he retrieve his gun from the safe?

The screaming grew louder, and Eric picked up the pace. He didn’t have time to get a weapon. He’d fight the intruder with his bare hands. He’d help her. Save her. There was no other option.

Eric pushed through the unlocked door, ready to fight. But the second he saw Georgia, his hands fell to his sides.

She lay on her bed, twisting and turning, her face damp from perspiration, her beautiful features contorted in agony and fear. She was alone, but that offered little comfort. Whatever was terrorizing her was on the inside.

“GEORGIA, WAKE UP!”

She heard the familiar voice. It cut through the images, pushing aside the terror. She no longer felt Louis’s body pinning her down, holding her in the open. The sounds—the rapid gunfire, the yelling—faded. The cloud of smoke she was fighting to breathe through vanished.

“Eric?”

“I’m here.” His hands pressed into her shoulders, drawing her up into a seated position. Her clothes clung to her damp body as she blinked, slowly taking in her surroundings. Her room at Eric’s house. The overhead light was on. He must have hit the switch. She glanced down, focusing on her breathing, knowing she needed the steady in and out to find her way back.

She dug her fingers into the sheets twisted around her. No one was shooting at her. Not here. She wasn’t carrying her friend’s body. She stared at her knuckles, watching them turn white, clutching the thin fabric. Nothing would hurt her here.

Except for her memories.

But only if she let them.

“You had a nightmare.”

Georgia looked up at Eric and saw the concern on his face. “Yes.”

“Georgia, you’re shaking.” He moved to the bed, drawing her into his arms, engulfing her in his strong embrace.

“I know.” She breathed—in and out, burying the nightmare, beating back the terror. But the fear was still very much alive for him, she realized. He held her tight, as if the physical contact could literally keep her together.

But she wasn’t breaking. Not now, not ever.

“It was just a bad dream,” she said, fighting the slight tremble in her voice.

“The way you screamed . . .” His tone was rough with emotion as he reached for her, touching the side of her face. “It was pure terror.”

She captured his hand in hers, offering a reassuring squeeze. “I know.”

“This has happened before?”

She nodded. “Not for a while. But yes, it has.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I was handling it.”

“By not sleeping,” he said grimly, as if he was starting to put the pieces together. “Georgia, that’s not a solution. You need help.”

“I told you, I’ve got this. I’m working through it.”

Eric raised his hand to her face, holding it there before brushing her cheek. The way he touched her was as if she were a scared animal. “Georgia, let me help you. Please. I love you. And seeing you like this . . . Christ, it tears me apart.”

She pushed free from his embrace and stood, willing her trembling limbs to hold her steady. Love. That one word gave her strength and cut her to the core at the same time. She wanted his love, but not like this, not tied so closely to pity and anxiety.

Eric rose too, reaching for her. She stepped back.

“Eric, look at me.” His eyes, still deep pools of seemingly bottomless worry, met hers.

“Do not mistake this for weakness,” she said. “I am strong. Don’t you dare doubt that. Ever. I don’t need you to be my hero. I don’t need you to protect me from my own memories. I don’t need a white knight rushing in to save me. I’m my own hero. And I will get through this.”

“Georgia, it’s OK to ask for help. That doesn’t make you weak. You went to war—”

“Uncle Eric?” The sound of Nate’s half-asleep little-boy voice filled the space. Eric crossed the room in two steps, crouching in front of his nephew.

“Hey there, buddy,” he said, his voice gentle and soft.

“Is there a bear in Georgia’s room?” Nate asked, rubbing his eyes.

“No, Nate,” he said. “No bears.”

She watched as he pulled Nate into his arms, hugging him tight, offering the comfort Georgia had refused.

“I had a nightmare,” she said. “I’m sorry I woke you, kiddo. It won’t happen again.”

Eric drew back from his nephew and looked over his shoulder at her. She saw the uncertainty in his expression. Then Eric returned his gaze to the scared, still-half-asleep child. He was trying to choose, she realized.

“It’s not a choice,” she said. “I’m fine. Take Nate back to bed.”

Eric nodded. He stood and walked over to her. “I’ll be back once he’s asleep.” He kept his voice low to ensure his words were not overheard. “I promise. Wait here for me. We’ll talk.”

“Eric, I’m fine,” she insisted, knowing deep down it was a lie. But this wasn’t his battle to fight.

He rested his hand on her shoulder and gave her a squeeze. “I’m going to help you through this, Georgia.”

“Go,” she said firmly. “Nate needs you.”

Georgia watched Eric lift Nate into his arms. The little boy looked so small compared with his uncle. But he was safe there, right where he belonged.

“Night, Georgia,” Nate mumbled, resting his cheek against his uncle’s shoulder. “Maybe we can have pancakes in the morning. With syrup.”

“Maybe, kiddo,” she said. “Maybe.”

Georgia waited until the sound of Eric’s footsteps on the wooden floorboards faded, then she sat on her bed, drawing her knees tight against her chest. She picked up the sheet and wrapped it around her shoulders, draping it over her legs. Now that she was alone, the tears threatened.

“I’m strong,” she whispered. “I know I am.”

She closed her eyes, letting the teardrops flow freely. The nightmare, the fear, was all in the past. But the way Eric had looked at her? As if she were weak? As if his love was wrapped in pity? That hurt nestled deep inside. But what scared her the most was the way he looked back at her after Nate came into the room, as if he had to choose, as if he couldn’t be enough for both of them.

And that was just plain wrong. Eric had infused her life with stability. She knew he did the same for Nate. His willingness to listen had helped strengthen her, allowing her to crack open the locks holding back her emotions.

But maybe he was right. Maybe it all came down to a choice. Deep down, she knew she couldn’t stay here. Not if her nightmares disturbed the small child living down the hall. Nate had to come first. Always. She could still care for the little boy, even if she lived at her brother’s house for a while, until the nightmares went away for good. And they would. She’d make sure of it.

A new wave of tears threatened. But this time Georgia fought back, squeezing her eyes tight against them. She refused to wallow. Pushing off the bed, she stripped off her damp nightclothes and pulled on the jeans and T-shirt she’d been wearing earlier. Gathering the keys to her borrowed Jeep, she headed for the door. Right now, she needed to feel the wind in her hair. She needed to feel alive, strong, and in control—because she was all of those things.

ERIC SAT ON the floor beside Nate’s toddler bed, running his hand through the little boy’s hair. His nephew had closed his eyes the minute his head hit the pillow, but Eric had stayed, wanting to make sure Nate was settled before he went back down the hall to Georgia. Was this what his father felt, he wondered, torn between a child who’d needed him and a woman who owned his heart?

As a kid, Eric had hated his father for choosing the latter. The women. The first time, he’d understood. He’d loved his dad’s girlfriend like a second mother. But then she’d left, breaking his heart. He’d been older than Nate at the time, but still too young to understand the fickle nature of relationships. They weren’t permanent, not like a son’s love for his parents. So why had his mother and father insisted on falling in love again and again?

Because walking away was impossible.

Eric looked down at Nate. He didn’t want to drag his nephew down the same road he’d traveled as a child. But he refused to abandon Georgia when she needed him most.

Eric shook his head. He’d find a solution in the morning. Whatever it took to make things right for her and for Nate. Right now he needed to check on her. Eric shifted away from Nate’s bed, slowly rising to his feet. He stepped forward and the floorboards creaked.

Nate’s hand shot out, reaching blindly in space, his eyes still shut. “Stay.”

“I will, buddy. I’m not going anywhere,” he said, grabbing hold of his nephew’s hand. Eric sank to his knees beside the bed. He found one of Nate’s stuffed animals, placing it under his head as he stretched out on the floor. Another few minutes and the kid would be sound asleep. Then he could go to Georgia.

Staring up at the ceiling, Eric heard footsteps in the hall. Panic rose, his stomach somersaulting as his blood seemingly ran cold.

Georgia was leaving.