by Sandra Owens
“Guilt.” Sneaky woman. If he’d taken the time to think, he would have kept his mouth shut.
“CPT is one of the more successful therapies in treating PTSD. The primary focus of CPT is cognitive intervention. What that means is that I’ll work with you to identify negative thoughts related to the event in question, help you replace those thoughts with positive ones, and show you ways to cope when the guilt feels like it’s drowning you.”
Good luck with that, lady.
“At the end of each session, I’ll give you an assignment to complete before your next appointment. I cannot emphasize enough how important it is that you not avoid. I can’t help you feel your feelings or challenge your thoughts if you don’t come to therapy or if you avoid completing your practice assignments.”
He eyed the door.
“You can walk out right now, Noah. Go drown in your guilt, drink so much you can’t hold down a job, or maybe drugs will be your choice to wipe out your memories. It’s your choice, but if you do, I’ll be obligated to report to your commander that you refused treatment. Do you have a girlfriend or wife?”
No, there was just a black-haired, blue-eyed princess who talked too much that he liked kissing too much. “I don’t like you,” he said instead of answering her question.
She laughed. “You’ll like me even less at times during our sessions. For your homework assignment, I want you to write about what happened in Afghanistan.”
“Fuck,” he muttered. “Sorry, Doc. That slipped out.” Avoid. That was her word, and he was going to avoid his very first assignment because no way in hell was he going to write about that day.
“There is no ban on any word in my office, even if it’s that one.” She leaned toward him. “And, Noah, when you come for your next appointment, you better have your fucking assignment ready for me to read. Schedule your appointments with Beverly on your way out.”
He did not want to like the lady, but grudgingly, he did. He did not want to respect her. It was impossible not to. He did not plan to ever come back.
He scheduled his next four appointments with Beverly on his way out.
* * *
One hour and twenty minutes after dropping Lucky off with Jack, Noah was back at Operation K-9 Brothers. Lucky went bonkers at seeing him. “You’re ridiculous, dog. I wasn’t gone that long.” He squatted and obligingly gave the dog a belly rub.
“How’d it go?” Jack asked.
“Fine.”
“That’s it? She came highly recommended. If you don’t think she’ll work for you, we’ll find someone else.”
“It’s good, Jack, so stop worrying, okay?”
“A friend of mine, he was Delta Force, saw her after his honorable discharge because of a busted knee. He said she’s great.”
“This was my first appointment. Ask me again in a week or two. I have to go on Monday and Thursday mornings.”
“Great. By the way, you’ll meet that friend Sunday. You know your brother will be here this weekend, right?”
“Yeah, talked to him last night.”
“Nichole and I are cooking out Sunday, and you and Peyton, along with Nichole’s brother, Mark, and Clint will be there.”
“Peyton will like that. She’s mentioned a few times how much she likes Nichole.” Funny, a day or two ago, he’d look for excuses—even outright refuse, not bothering with an excuse—to avoid being around a group of people. Damn head doc was apparently in his head since his brain had decided avoid was no longer acceptable.
He was looking forward to taking Peyton to a cookout, and he was even starting to like the ridiculous dog.
Chapter Twenty-One
Peyton was over the moon happy about a lot of things. She’d returned to work yesterday, along with Eddie, who’d refused to come back until she did. Gosh, she loved that old man. Most of her day had been spent getting back in the swing of things in the brewery, but two hours of it had been with her father in his office. He was teaching her the business side of the operation, and the best part, it had been his idea.
His responsibilities weren’t her favorite part of the brewery, but if she was to take over someday—and she prayed that wasn’t anytime soon—she needed to learn how to run the business. The plus in that was she would be spending time working with her father each day. He was a different man from the one she was used to. The man who used to keep himself closed off from her and never smiled was gone. He’d even praised her quick mind a few times. She was still marveling at the change in him, had pinched herself to make sure she wasn’t dreaming.
A miracle had happened all because she’d finally stood up for herself and refused to marry a man she didn’t love. Being a runaway bride definitely had its benefits. Then there was Noah, whom she never would have met if she hadn’t hightailed it away from her wedding.
He’d spent last night in her bed again, and, Lordy, the man curled her toes. Her bed was going to be a lonely place when he left. But she wouldn’t think about that, not today. She was too happy to allow sad thoughts in her head. There would be plenty of time for that when he was gone.
Tonight, she was meeting his brother, and she couldn’t decide what to wear. Clothes had never been all that important to her, her preferences were jeans and T-shirts for brewing beer, pencil skirts and blouses for client meetings, leggings or shorts for home, and a few fancy dresses for dinners or special events.
What to wear for dinner with the man she was afraid she was falling for and his brother? Noah wanted to stay in, and she’d offered to cook...something. Cooking wasn’t something she was particularly good at. Why bother when she lived alone and had great restaurants surrounding her?
Surprising her, Noah had asked her to make her grilled cheese sandwiches. She’d thought that was too simple, but he’d assured her Clint would love them. She was so putting tomatoes on them, though, and she smiled at thinking of Noah’s reaction. He was out now picking up a large order of pho to go with the sandwiches. She’d told him to also stop at the bakery and choose something for dessert.
“You moving out, princess?”
She yelped. “You startled me. I thought you were still gone.”
“Obviously, I’m back.” He leaned on the doorframe and eyed the pile of clothes on her bed. “What’s with the mess?”
“I don’t know what to wear tonight.”
He smirked. “I’d say nothing if it was just me and you, but if you wore nothing in front of my brother, I’d have to kill him.”
“Drat, no clothes would be so much easier, but since I don’t want blood shed on my clean floors, I’ll wear something. I just have to decide what.” She shoved the top items aside. “Not these. I should have gone shopping, but I’m not so good with clothes, you know? I mean, what does a girl wear when she’s meeting the brother of the man she’s sleeping with? Something demure, maybe something casual, but what? Plain old jeans and a T-shirt just don’t—”
“Peyton, Peyton, Peyton,” he said. “Every time you do that, I have to do this.”
When had he moved next to her? His mouth covered hers, and she forgot about clothes. She, in fact, ended up without any on.
* * *
“This is amazing,” Noah’s brother said.
Peyton grinned at Clint. “Thanks. I see you didn’t remove your tomato.” She slid her gaze to Noah. “Your brother knows a good thing when he sees...well, I guess in this case I should say when he tastes it.”
He leveled a searing hot stare on her. “Trust me, I know a good thing when I taste it.”
She gasped. “You did not just say that.” Heat spiraled up her neck and on her cheeks. If inexperienced, naive her understood what he was implying, his brother certainly would.
“Pretty sure I did, princess.” He winked at her.
“Well...well...ah...” She needed to stop sputtering, but what was she supposed to say to that? In fro
nt of his brother? Noah had thoroughly tasted her on top of the pile of clothes on her bed not two hours ago. The man obviously had superpower talents because her girl parts were still tingling.
“Between this amazing grilled cheese sandwich and this beer you brew, I think I’m in love with you, Peyton,” Clint said. “Will you marry me?”
“If you promise to whisk me away from your Neanderthal brother, I’m all yours.”
Clint laughed. Noah growled, which thrilled her. Like maybe he was a little jealous? She glanced between the two of them. They had the same eye and hair color, and the same lush lips, but that was the only resemblance. Noah was bigger, both in height, weight, and muscles. There was an easiness—a comfortable in his own skin vibe—to Clint that was missing in his brother.
“Your husband won’t be cool with you whisking away with a princess,” Noah said.
Two pairs of eyes watched her, as if waiting to see her reaction. “If he’s as cute as you, Clint, we’ll take him with us.”
Clint grinned. “He’s cuter.”
“Well then. It’s a done deal.” She glanced at Noah. “Sorry, sailor boy. Looks like you’re out of luck.”
He narrowed his eyes. “You’re not going anywhere, princess.”
No, she wasn’t. She was his until the day he left, and because she didn’t want to get depressed by that thought tonight, she changed the subject. “Noah picked up a chocolate cake from an amazing bakery nearby. I’ll make us some coffee.”
“On one of my visits, you should take me on a tour of your brewery,” Clint said.
“I’d love to.”
He asked her questions about brewing beer while they lingered over the cake and coffee. When they finished, they moved to the living room. She wasn’t sure how long it had been since the brothers had seen each other, and she thought it would be good for them to have some time alone.
She yawned. “Sorry. I think I’ll head off to bed. I guess I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon at Jack and Nichole’s?” she said to Clint.
“You sure will.”
As she walked down the hall, she heard Clint say, “I really like her.” She paused, curious to hear Noah’s response.
“So do I. More than I want to.”
What did that mean? Why didn’t he want to like her?
“Then what’s the problem, brother?”
It was wrong to eavesdrop, but she couldn’t make herself walk away.
“Things are messed up for me right now,” Noah said.
“What happened? Why are you on leave?”
Peyton slid down the wall. She shouldn’t listen to their private conversation, but she sat there on her butt anyway. She needed to know what had happened to him.
* * *
“Because I fucked up. Bad.” Noah knew Peyton was still in the hallway, listening, but he thought she was developing feelings for him. She deserved to know why that wasn’t a good idea, but he just couldn’t tell his story to her face and see her disappointment in him, maybe even disgust. It was easier to let her listen while he told his brother.
Clint lifted his chin toward the hallway, and Noah nodded, acknowledging he was aware Peyton was listening. Would she ask him to leave after she learned he wasn’t the hero she thought he was? That would be the best for both of them, especially her. But then who would protect her? He took a deep breath, then started talking.
“I should have been suspicious of the bed and called for a teammate to help me move it for a thorough search,” Noah said as he finished the story. “That was my job. Instead, I didn’t want to disturb a sick old man more than I had to. A good man and our team’s dog are dead because of me.”
He’d started out sitting back in the chair but now perched on the edge. His elbows rested on his knees, his hands dangling between his legs. Afraid of what he would see on Clint’s face—revulsion, pity?—Noah stared down at his clenched fists, then slowly unfurled them before he was tempted to put them through one of Peyton’s walls. When Clint didn’t respond, he lifted his gaze.
His brother leaned his head back on the sofa and closed his eyes. “I’ve never told a soul this. I knew I was gay by the time I was thirteen. I didn’t broadcast it, but I never hid it, either. There was a boy I had a crush on my junior year, and I thought he liked me, too. I don’t remember how we came to be there, but one day we were under the bleachers. A group of five boys caught us kissing. These same boys had bullied me all year, and I was afraid of them.”
He opened his eyes and stared at Noah. “They went for Fletcher first, and like the chicken shit I was, I ran away. I didn’t go to a teacher and report my friend getting beaten up. I hid like a coward. I never saw Fletch again because he never returned to school, but I heard he spent two days in the hospital because I didn’t do anything to stop it. Shortly after he got out, his family moved away. The boys got a measly month’s suspension for fucking up his face.”
“You were just a kid.” It wasn’t the same. He was an adult. He was highly trained not to make mistakes like the one he had.
“Doesn’t matter. I knew when I ran that they were going to hurt him. I should have gone straight to a teacher or someone capable of stopping it. My point is, we all have should have dones in our lives. Granted, some are worse than others, but what are you accomplishing by beating yourself up over something you can’t change? Yes, you made a mistake, a tragic one, but I guarantee you’ll never make it again. And, brother, you aren’t honoring Asim’s life by throwing yours away.”
“How did you get past it? Not doing what you knew you should have?” Clint had given him a lot to think about, but there was a big difference in feeling responsible for a boy getting beaten and knowing he was responsible for someone’s death.
“When I finally forgave myself.”
Noah didn’t know if he could do that. “Did you have nightmares?”
“For months. Sometimes they were what actually happened, sometimes I was the one being beaten, and in a few of them, I ran and got a teacher. Those were the worst because if I could do that in a dream, why hadn’t I been able to for real? How bad are yours?”
“I try not to sleep. When I do, I see Asim’s eyes staring at me.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “They’re full of blame. Even though I wasn’t in the room when he died and that didn’t happen, I still see them.”
“Are you seeing someone you can talk to about all this?”
“Yeah, on orders from my commander. I had my first appointment yesterday. The head doc doesn’t put up with bullshit. I’m kind of pissed that I like her.”
Clint chuckled. “Since I know how pigheaded you can be, you had no intention of talking, eh?”
“I plead the fifth.”
“Don’t be an ass, Noah. Talk to her. She’ll have the tools to guide you through this, to show you the way out of the dark tunnel you’re in.”
“I don’t know if I can.” He met his brother’s eyes. “Forgive myself.” He heard a muffled sob from the hallway, and then a moment later, the soft click of Peyton’s bedroom door closing.
“You can if you choose to.” He stood. “On that note, I’m outta here.”
Noah rose. “It’s good seeing you, douchenozzle.”
His brother strode to him and pulled him into a tight hug. “Love ya, numbnuts.” He stepped away. “I’ll see you tomorrow at Jack’s. You better have a princess at your side.”
“We’ll see. Not sure what she thinks about everything she heard.”
“Don’t underestimate your girl, brother.”
When Clint opened the door to leave, Noah said, “You know I love you, too, right?”
His brother grinned. “Yep, even though you never say it.”
“My bad,” he softly said. He’d never told another soul he loved them since his mother died. He needed to do better, at least with his brother and adoptive mother, who were the
only people in the world he loved, anyway. There were also his SEAL brothers. Couldn’t forget about them.
As for a princess... He shook his head. Don’t go there, Alba. You’re just her bodyguard, and after tonight, she might not even want you for that.
He took Lucky out. “You were a good boy tonight.” He’d curled up at the side of his chair, and as if understanding there had been a serious talk happening, he’d stayed quiet.
When Noah returned to the loft, he walked down the hall to Peyton’s door. No light shone under the bottom. She wasn’t awake, waiting for him. He gently turned the knob, and as he suspected, it was locked.
“Smart girl,” he whispered.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Peyton stood in the shower, letting the water wash away her tears. Both Noah’s and Clint’s stories had broken her heart. Like Noah had said, Clint had just been a scared boy. Those awful boys were to blame for what was done to his friend.
As for Noah, dear God. Now she understood the haunted look in his eyes. How did one forgive oneself for a mistake that cost a life? She didn’t think she could if it had been her. Yet, it hadn’t been intentional, and she couldn’t begin to imagine what war was like or how anyone could make snap decisions in such stressful situations. Noah’s mistake was trying to be kind and respectful to an old man, and that was forgivable even considering the tragic result.
He wouldn’t want her pity, thus the shower cry. She needed to get her tears out of her system before she went to him. In a way, it hurt that he could tell Clint what had happened but not her. Yet, it was better this way. She would have burst into tears as her heart hurt for him, and he would have hated that.
After drying off, she put on leggings and his T-shirt, the one she’d never given back. It was huge on her, but it gave her both comfort and strength. She found him on his back on the sofa in the living room, and although he had the TV muted on some sports show, he stared at the ceiling. Lucky was sprawled over his chest, his eyes closed as Noah combed his fingers through his fur.
