Patchworked Hearts {SAMPLE}

Chapter 28

"Third: Has he or she ever been in an accident before? Was it their fault? What are the chances that they will get into an accident with you in the car?"

Addy had been rear-ended before, but that wasn't her fault, and it had been before she'd even met Helen. Car accidents, although somewhat common, didn't affect everyone. Some people went their whole lives without getting into a car accident; there was only a small chance that something would happen while she and Addy were in the car.

"Finally, remember your breathing. Slow, calm breaths, and remind yourself of these things. You are with someone you trust, and someone who will do anything to make sure you're comfortable; if you have a problem, tell them. They won't push you."

Right. Addy was a bit headstrong and very sassy, but she would never purposely make Helen uncomfortable.

Chewing on the inside of her cheek, Helen peeked up to find Addy still outside the car, watching Helen cautiously, as though she would run at any moment. "You won't go too fast?" Helen's voice was barely a croak, and she wondered idly when her throat had become so dry.

Addy shook her head vehemently. "No, I'll keep myself in check, I promise. And if you feel like I'm going too fast, just tell me, alright? I want you to feel comfortable."

So, it's not Pat, but it is Addy. Addy loves you too; she won't hurt you.

Plus, just like Pat, Addy had always been there for Helen; the other woman would never put Helen in danger on purpose.

"Okay," she breathed. "Okay." Unclenching her fingers, Helen grasped onto the door handle and pulled it open, taking in a few more, steadying streams of air before dropping into the passenger seat.

So far, so good, she reassured herself as she closed the door. You're doing fine.

Forcing her fingers to cooperate, Helen released the grip she had on the door's interior handle and buckled herself in, barely aware of Addy as the other woman plopped into the driver's seat.

"You good?" Addy asked, and Helen practically jumped out of her skin.

She licked her lips, tried to ignore the frantic beating of her heart, and breathed, "Yeah, I think so."

Addy's hand brushed against Helen's shoulder, and she forced her eyes up to meet the other woman's gaze. "Nell," Addy murmured, "how can I make this easier? Should I talk?"

Truthfully, Helen had no idea. There was no way to recreate the safety she felt with Patterson—a comfort that had been present within the first ten minutes of meeting the man—but she tried to think of what Pat had always done when she'd first started riding with him.

For the first few weeks, he'd always greeted her with a corny joke or pun, and then chattered aimlessly about his past clients or overweight cat. He had been (and still was) the best storyteller she knew; between his deep, rumbling voice and the humor that lined his words, Pat had sucked her into his tales and left her unable to focus on the terrifying fact that she had been in a vehicle for the first time in years.

It might not work, her mind whispered, but maybe . . .?

"Just talk, please," she begged Addy finally, squeaking when the car's engine came to life. "T-tell me a story, about anything."

"Okay," Addy, to her credit, managed to keep her voice relatively even, with only a light underlayer of Oh, shit, what if this doesn't work? "So, I didn't tell you, but I was training a new girl at the salon yesterday," she paused and slid the transmission into Reverse, and Helen shut her eyes.