“That’s not uncommon after something so traumatic, and realizing where the guilt comes from is the start of healing.”
Her brows knitted. “You must think I’m a nutcase.”
“Why? Because a man you loved was ripped from your life and you did your best to survive him?”
“Because it shouldn’t take this long to figure things out.”
“Babe, grief doesn’t have a timeline. Some people go their whole lives and only realize their truths on their deathbed. And don’t be surprised if you try to talk yourself out of what you just realized in an hour, or tomorrow, or next week. That’s the thing about PTSD. The effects may seem like they go away completely, but our minds play tricks on us, and we still think about what we’ve gone through for a long time, and for some people, forever.”
“Oh good, something to look forward to,” she said solemnly. “You think I have PTSD?”
“I think we both have it on some level. It’s not a bad thing. It’s just what happens to some people.” He kissed her softly. “It’s okay, babe. As you explore and share your feelings, you’ll begin to see what happened and the years since more clearly, and you’ll learn how to navigate the slippery slopes when they pop up.”
“Do you still have slippery slopes?”
“Not as often as I used to, but it took me a long time to get here.” He put his arms around her. “I know you don’t love talking about your feelings, but you’re not alone in this, and if you told your dad, then that makes two of us who can help you through those slippery times.”
“Now you sound like a therapist.”
“I am a therapist. A therapist who loves you and wants to help you heal.”
“I want to say thanks, but I’m afraid it’ll go to your head and you’ll think you can use your psychobabble on me all the time.”
He knew she was just teasing, and he was grateful she hadn’t shut him out. “Would I do that?” He leaned in and kissed her.
“I’m serious, Whiskey,” she warned. “Don’t think just because you sexed my brain into submission you can get me talking about my feelings all the time.”
“I know you better than that. Grab your Oreos, Mancini. I’ve got something to show you.”
“If we’re going to the bedroom, I want whipped cream.”
Damn, I love you. “We’re going to the living room, but from now on my fridge will be stocked with whipped cream. In fact, I’ll get a mini fridge for the bedroom.”
He snagged the chips and she smacked his ass—hard—and ran out of the kitchen laughing. Hell yeah, he could get used to this. He sauntered into the living room and found her grinning like a fiend. What a glorious fucking sight that was.
“Paybacks are hell, Mancini.”
“I’ll just keep my butt to the wall.”
He laughed. “Sit down and get comfortable. We’re going to be here awhile.”
She sat cross-legged on the couch, eating Oreos and watching him curiously as he connected his laptop to the television. “If you’re turning on porn, we could probably make a movie ten times better than the crap that’s out there.”
That piqued his interest. “Good to know my Wildfire has a kinky side.” He slid her a wink. “But this isn’t porn.” He grabbed the remote and sat beside her. “I’ve wanted to show you this for a long time.”
“What is it?”
“Eddie’s unforgettable movie. He made it. He just never had a chance to share it with us.”
Her heart stumbled. “Seriously?”
“Yeah. His parents gave me access to his hard drives so I could get copies of pictures and videos, and it was on there. The last time it’d been opened was the morning of the accident.” He put his arm around her, pulling her closer. “Do you think you can handle watching it? It might be hard at first, because it’s Eddie, alive and in action.” He paused, giving her a minute to think about it. “We don’t have to if you’re not ready.”
“I WANT TO” flew from Billie’s lips. Her heart was racing, but her mind wasn’t. She didn’t know what to expect, or how she’d react, but she wanted to see Eddie and the movie he’d worked so hard to create.
Dare held her a little tighter as he turned it on.
Music played as images of the three of them as young kids enlarged one by one in rapid succession, making them appear to get closer to the camera. She watched her young self, bright-eyed and skinny-limbed, riding her dirt bike over a jump and sticking her tongue out, Dare looking fierce, doing a heel flip on a skateboard, and Eddie hanging upside down from a rope swing, getting ready to flip into the lake below, his arms flailing, shaggy blond hair sticking out everywhere. As those pictures flew off the edges of the screen, a zoom shot of THE UNFORGETTABLE DAREDEVILS appeared at an angle across the middle of the screen in bold red-and-gold letters, with flames coming off the first D in Daredevils, and just below, in plain black letters, was BASED ON A TRUE STORY.
Her throat thickened. She cuddled tighter against Dare’s side as the title screen faded and a shot of the old dirt bike trails where they used to race appeared. Eddie swaggered onto the screen, tall, tanned, and supremely handsome, his shaggy blond hair as tousled as always. His mischievous baby blues lit up, bringing out the boyish charm she’d adored as he spoke to the camera. “What you’re about to witness is the birth of two fast-talking, unforgettable daredevils and one devilishly handsome, sometimes-daredevil cinematographer. Sit back and enjoy the ride. I know I have.”
Tears burned Billie’s eyes, and Dare kissed her temple.
Music played as another picture from when they were little appeared. The three of them were running along a fence at the ranch. Dare was holding his cowboy hat on his head and laughing. Billie ran beside him, determination written all over her face, and Eddie led the pack, his chin held high, grinning with the magnificence that only a six-year-old could exude. The music dimmed, and from off camera, Eddie said, “It started with races and dares.” The camera zoomed in on another picture of them skiing, knees bent, bodies low, and once again Eddie was out front.
“He was always so fast,” Billie whispered as a picture of the three of them racing on dirt bikes appeared. Their fathers were standing at the sidelines, arms crossed, chins low. Dare and Billie were neck and neck, and Eddie took up the rear. Eddie’s voice rang out as more pictures played. “On foot, there was a clear winner.” His face appeared on-screen again, and he flashed a cheesy grin that made Billie smile. “But give those two daredevils a set of wheels or wings, and they were unbeatable.”
A tear slipped down her cheek as Eddie said, “They were each other’s biggest cheerleaders and harshest critics. All in the name of excellence, of course.” A picture appeared over his shoulder of Billie around eight years old, hair tangled, arms crossed, scowling at Dare as he crouched on a skateboard, his hand on the back of it, mouth open, like he was telling her how to do a trick. He always used to correct her, and it helped her go faster, get more air, or otherwise hone her skills, but that didn’t mean she liked it.
She put her hand on Dare’s leg, and he covered it with his own.