Elias leaned against the credenza, thick arms folded, his words heavily weighted. “That’s not what I mean.”
Jay got the message. Elias had encouraged him to seek treatment before, but he hadn’t had time for illness—mental or physical—when he had a company to build. He’d managed the nightmares like he managed everything else. With tight control, strict rules, and willpower. But this time it wasn’t just about him. This time he had a reason to get well.
Jay dropped his head to his hands, elbows resting on his thighs. “I almost lost my mom. Again. Kinda threw me for a loop.”
Not an easy admission, but then he’d made an even bigger admission to Zara. Anything else paled in comparison. He hadn’t meant to tell her he loved her. Hell, he hadn’t even realized it himself until he’d said it out loud. But he’d had a few days to think about it, and he acknowledged the truth of the words. She was the light in his life, the sun to his shadows. She was smart, warm, loyal, sexy, and funny and it was impossible to resist her sweet exuberance. Life was interesting and exciting when she was around. She made his heart pound just being near her, and he was damn sure he made her heart pound, too. But he needed to sort out his shit. He wanted to be the best man he could be. For her. For his mom. For Elias. And for himself.
“I’ve been there,” Elias said. “Sand used to do it for me. We were in the desert when I was shot. After I came home, I couldn’t go to the beach. I’d start shaking and break out in a sweat. It didn’t make sense. There was no danger. It was all kids and beach umbrellas and ice cream and hot dogs. But that’s the thing about PTSD. You don’t know when you’re going to hit a trigger. And when you do, you need the tools to work your way through it.”
“You were seeing a guy . . .” Jay drew in a ragged breath. Admitting he needed help wasn’t as easy as he thought.
“Dave Richards. He’s a psychologist at the VA clinic. He really helped me out. I’ll give you his number.” Elias grinned. “Tell him I went to the beach the other day and stayed there so long I got a fucking tan.”
* * *
? ? ?
Janice was playing Candy Crush when Zara walked into the office. She’d clearly just come in from a smoke and her clothes reeked of tobacco. “You’ve got a new-client meeting this afternoon. I’ve put it in your schedule. He says he’s an actor.” All this without lifting her head. But today, Zara didn’t care.
“A celebrity client? Are you serious?”
“I said he’s an actor.” Her three-pack-a-day habit had given her voice a gravelly rasp that wasn’t out of place in a firm with a tiger for a mascot. “I didn’t say he’s a celebrity. At least he wasn’t until he got caught snorting coke off some skanky bitch’s ass at a party. I looked him up online after he called. If that’s the kind of law you’re planning to practice, I’m going to have a word with Tony. I won’t work in that kind of environment. I have standards.”
“We just filmed a commercial where we’re all roaring in a jungle of cartoon tigers,” Zara pointed out. “Right now, Tony is contemplating whether we should wear tiger suits for the next one. Finances are so tight Faroz just chased an ambulance all the way to the hospital. The bar can’t get much lower.”
Janice gave an indignant huff. “Yeah, well, I won’t be asking for his autograph.”
“What’s his name?”
“Bob Smith.”
* * *
? ? ?
“I never thought I’d be pulling out your card so soon after we met.” Bob settled in the seat across from Zara. He looked like he hadn’t slept for days. Lines of strain were etched into his brow, and his jaw was rough and unshaven. Dark circles under his eyes made them seem more prominent, and his skin was pale and blotchy. He wore a baseball cap and a puffy jacket, even though it was seventy-five degrees outside.
He looked better as a zombie.
“I saw you at the City Club party the other night,” he said. “I remembered you were the tiger lawyer from the ads on TV.”
“I’m glad they made an impression.” She made a mental note to tell Tony the tiger should stay.
“I wanted to talk to you but you looked like you were in a hurry to leave.” He removed his cap and ran his hand through his thick, dark hair. “I shouldn’t have even been there. My agent thought it might help my image, but as you can imagine, everyone just wanted to talk about the pictures.”