They ended up leaving the reception once Sarah had verified that Kristin didn’t have any injuries other than a very big black eye, and a warning to Julian to call her if Kristin experienced any other symptoms of a head injury.
“I’m fine,” Kristin told Julian for what seemed like the millionth time during the drive home and even after they’d arrived at his house. She’d gotten an ice pack for her eye, and Julian had helped her into a pair of pajamas after he gave her some ibuprofen for the pain and swelling.
Sitting cross-legged on the sofa, she held the cold pack to her cheek and eye while Julian, newly dressed in a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt, seated himself next to her.
“You’re not fine. My younger brother somehow assaulted you, and I want to know how and why it happened before I lose it,” he answered in a graveled voice.
“It really wasn’t his fault,” Kristin said softly.
“You were hurt and he was there. It’s obvious you got punched.”
“I startled him,” Kristin explained with a sigh. “I saw his reaction to the huge knife Dad had to cut the cake. It got close enough to touch him. I think it was a trigger for him, and he started reliving his experience all over again. I came up behind him and he didn’t know I was there. I think he was in the middle of a nightmare while he was awake. He turned instinctively, and for a moment, I think he thought I was his attacker. He didn’t punch me on purpose. His elbow hit me in the eye. He turned around so fast that he couldn’t keep from hitting me.”
“Jesus! He didn’t really look uptight when I saw him. He looked like he was just . . . dead inside.”
“He’s not, Julian. I think the drugs and alcohol are part of a bigger problem. He’s obviously having symptoms of PTSD. Did they ever mention it in the rehab?”
“Not that I know of,” Julian answered, sounding a little calmer.
“His fear was very real. And the big knife and being in a crowd with people he didn’t know was a trigger for him. He didn’t have a clue what he was doing when he swung around and accidentally hit me. He was in another reality, and I was the enemy,” Kristin told him remorsefully. “I shouldn’t have approached him that way.”
“Don’t make this your fault,” Julian warned her. “You were obviously trying to help him.”
“I was. I saw how he reacted, and I wanted to see if he was okay. But I should have made my presence known instead of moving up on him.”
“So you think he drinks because he can’t deal with his PTSD?”
“Sometimes it happens. When you can’t escape reality, you use whatever is necessary to dull the pain. Pain medications are highly addictive. Honestly, considering what Xander had to watch happen, I can’t say I’m surprised that he relives it over and over again.”
“So what happens now? He goes back to drinking? He keeps hurting other people?” Julian asked urgently. “I don’t know what to do to help him, but if he ever touches you again, regardless of the reason, I’m not making any promises that I won’t hurt him.”
“He didn’t know he was hitting me. He was trying to defend himself,” she argued. “I’d be the last woman in the world to make excuses for any guy hitting anyone. But this really was an exception and an accident on his part. Don’t hold it against him. Please.”
The last thing Kristin wanted was to cause an even bigger rift between the brothers.
“So this means he really needs counseling?” Julian questioned.
Kristin nodded. “He has dual issues: PTSD and addiction. He needs to get to the root of his problems to try to resolve both of them.”
Julian slowly nodded. “I’ll talk to Micah and my cousins. There has to be a way to put pressure on Xander to cooperate.”
“I’m not a psychologist. I don’t know how you can help him when he doesn’t want to help himself. But maybe you can talk to some experts.”
“We’ll keep an eye on him and figure it out. In the meantime, I can’t stop blaming him for your bruised-up face,” Julian said remorsefully.
“My bruises will fade. Xander’s scars may never go away.” Her heart ached for the youngest Sinclair. Julian hadn’t seen Xander’s moment of panic and terror. She had, and she doubted she’d ever forget it.
“I can’t stand to see you hurt,” Julian admitted huskily. “It kills me.”
Since he’d been willing to fight his own brother for bruising her face, Kristin didn’t doubt his sincerity.
The tormented guilt on his face nearly broke her. She tossed the cold pack onto the table and quickly straddled him. “You could very easily take my mind off my eye,” she told him suggestively. Really, the injury didn’t hurt anymore unless she actually touched it, and her body was hungry for Julian.