“This is your body’s way of processing trauma because you refuse to do it yourself. These physical symptoms will only continue. Once you’re armed with the tools and you tap into all of that, you’ll be free.”

He was right. For years Becca avoided talking about Robbie or addressing anything related to her brother’s breakdown, telling herself that she was okay. The panic attacks told a different story, and it took years of therapy to learn how to cope with them. She knew all the tricks of the trade, but right now her mind was blank. Her breath came out in short, harsh gasps, as though someone were sitting on her chest.

She heard Christian calling her, felt his arms wrap around her waist. He held on to Becca tightly. “You’re okay. I’m right here. You’re safe. You’re in control. Nothing is so bad you can’t find your way out,” he kept repeating in a calm and soothing manner.

Becca wanted to believe him, but it was almost impossible. She knew too much. She’d seen the victims of sexual assault, watched how the light vanished from their eyes. For so long, Ash’s eyes lacked their brightness and sparkle. She’d finally gotten it back and now… Becca leaned forward, straining against Christian, her breath still coming out in short, rapid spurts.

“Close your eyes. Remember that trip to Idyllwild at Christmas. You, me, Freud, and Ash. Remember how we all woke up early to go on a hike. How clear the sky was. The crisp air filling our lungs. There was still snow on the ground, and Ash couldn’t stop giggling.”

Becca stilled in Christian’s arms, remembering that gorgeous winter day. Ash, bundled up in Rafi’s old army jacket, letting out a squeal as she launched herself over and over again into a mound of snow. As they wound up the trail, Christian and Becca held hands, occasionally stealing a kiss then, soaking up the silence and the possibility that maybe this unlikely family could work. It was one of her favorite memories of the three of them, and Christian remembered it too.

After a few minutes, Becca’s breathing normalized, the feeling in her hands and feet returning. “You good, Becs?” Christian asked.

Becca’s cheeks flushed, suddenly aware of how close they were. She slipped from his embrace. “I’m okay now. I’m fine,” she said, though the tremor in her voice told another story.

“Come on. Let’s go back inside. You should sit for a minute. I’ll get you some water.”

She wanted to resist, but she was still shaky, slightly unsteady on her feet, and the overpowering scent of urine was making her nauseated.