Come Away With Me

by Kristen Proby

  He doesn’t want me.

  Finally, Josie’s cries disappear and Caleb lowers her back into the bed. He’s stretched out on his side, on the other side of the girls, watching them sleep. Bix is curled up at their feet, and I’m lying opposite Caleb, also on my side, but I’m watching him.

  Memorizing every line of his body, every hair on his head.

  Finally, he brushes their hair back and leans in to lay a soft kiss on each of their foreheads. He lifts his gaze to mine, and sadness and regret are in his bright blue eyes.

  He reaches across the girls and cups my cheek in his hand, wipes a tear with his thumb and takes in every inch of my face with his eyes. He sighs deeply and releases me, rolls away from the girls and stands, turns off the light and walks to the door.

  As he pulls it open, he looks back at me and whispers, “I’m sorry, Legs,” just before he walks out and quietly pulls the door closed behind him.

  For several long seconds, I stare, unseeing, at the door, then I roll away from my babies and bury my face in the pillow, letting my tears and grief flow out of me in violent sobs.

  Caleb is gone.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Three months later.

  ~Caleb~

  “Your usual?”

  I nod at the redheaded bartender and keep my head down, staring at the scarred bar top in front of me.

  “Isn’t your contract up?” she asks me as she reaches for a tumbler and a bottle of Jack Daniel’s.

  “How do you know that?” I ask and slam back the amber liquid and push the glass forward in a silent request for more.

  “I’ve been tending this bar for more than fifteen years,” she informs me and pours me another. “I know the comings and goings of the military guys on this base. And I can tell by looking at you that you’re not active duty anymore.”

  I glare at her and take a sip of the Jack, not confirming or denying her assumption.

  “So why are you here and not back home fighting for your girl?” she asks with a sympathetic smile.

  Fuck off and let me drink.

  “You don’t know anything about it,” I growl and slam my drink.

  “I know plenty.” She grabs a white towel and wipes off the bar, clearly not ready to leave me in peace. “I know you’ve been coming here three nights a week like clockwork for the past three months. You drink whiskey until you stagger out of here and walk back wherever you came from. You’re drinking to forget something, and my bet is it’s a woman.”

  “Maybe it’s a man.” I smirk.

  “Nah, I’ve seen you check out some of the SEAL bunnies’ asses, but if they approach you, you growl and scare them away.”

  “Ain’t nothing wrong with looking.” I sulk. I just want to drink until I’m so drunk that it dulls the mile-wide ache in my chest and I forget the look on Brynna’s face as I walked out of her hotel room three months ago.

  “No,” she agrees and shakes her head thoughtfully. “But you look guilty as hell after you do.”

  “What do you want?” I ask and push my empty glass forward for another.

  “Just thought I’d talk to you, is all,” she replies with a smile. “You don’t scare me with that glare, by the way. Been married to a SEAL for ten years, and his glare doesn’t scare me either.”

  “Congratulations,” I mutter and swig my whiskey.

  “Oh, it hasn’t been a walk through the park, trust me. The fool actually left me for a while. Claimed he didn’t deserve me.” She shrugs and chuckles as I whip my head up and stare at her with narrowed eyes.

  “What did you say?” I ask.

  “Said he didn’t deserve me,” she repeats and watches me for several seconds. “Ah, there it is.” She shakes her head again and rolls her eyes. “So, when they’re teaching you guys to bench-press a pine tree and hold your breath for forty-five minutes…”

  “Four minutes,” I correct her with a growl.

  “Do you they also teach you to be stubborn asses?”

  “They taught me to ignore nosy fucking bartenders,” I reply and pop a pretzel in my mouth.

  “Okay, don’t talk then, moron, and listen to me.”

  “Why are you talking to me?” I ask incredulously.

  “Because you’re gonna ruin your fucking life, and you’re too damn hot for that, so shut up and listen to me.” She crosses her arms over her chest and glares at me, and for a minute I’d swear I’m talking to my mother.

  “Fine.” I sigh and keep my eyes on the bar.

  “He didn’t come back to me until we found out I was pregnant,” she begins and then sighs. “Lost that baby, though.”

  “I’m sorry,” I whisper.

  “I’ve had three more,” she responds and I can hear the smile in her voice, and I can’t help but hate her just a little. She’s a nice, if not way too nosy, woman, but I don’t give a rat’s ass about her kids.

  “But I’m going to tell you what I told him, and then I’ll go pay attention to the other customers.”

  “Oh, goody,” I respond sarcastically.

  “That American dream that y’all fight so hard for over there? The freedoms that you would die to protect? They’re yours, too, you know.”

  My head jerks up, and I stare at her as she continues.

  “You’ve earned the right to be happy, more than most of us.” She swallows and lays her hand over my arm. “You have earned her, Chief.”

  “How did you know?” I ask, but she cuts me off.

  “You scream Chief. Or lieutenant.”

  “Chief,” I whisper.

  She nods and glances down the bar. “Before you go home and claim her before someone else does, you need to get some help for the PTSD and get your head on straight.”

  “What are you? A fucking shrink?” I sneer.

  “No.” She shakes her head and smiles softly. “But I know a good one.” She pulls a card out of her back pocket and slides it across the bar to me before she winks and saunters away to help other customers.

  What the fuck does she know, anyway?

  I suddenly don’t want any more whiskey and can’t stand the stale smell of liquor in this bar, so I throw some bills on the bar and walk away, through the crowd beginning to gather and out the door. This particular joint isn’t far from the apartment the Navy put me up in during my contract. I’ve been training SEALs near San Diego for the better part of three months, and the pretty bartender was right.

  The contract is over.

  I have an open invitation at the mercenary-training center I left near Seattle, but living in Seattle means living near Brynna and the girls, and I don’t know that I could survive that.

  Look how well you’re surviving down here, asshole.

  I slam into my apartment and flop onto the couch, staring at the ceiling and listening to the air-conditioning unit click on. It’s only May, but it’s already warm in Southern California, even late in the evening.

  I wonder what the weather is like back home.

  I pull my iPhone out of my pocket and bring up the weather app. It’s already set to Seattle.

  Sunny and mid-sixties.

  Nice weather. My girls would like to go to the park in that kind of weather.

  My girls.

  God, I’m such a fucking mess. I chose to leave, knowing that they loved me.

  I chose.

  Because staying would have only ended up hurting them.

  “You have earned her.”

  I scrub my hands down my face with a long sigh and squeeze my eyes shut. I miss them. I thought it would get better with time, but the truth is, it only gets worse. Every day is its own special sadistic kind of torture, and I’d give anything to be with them.

  All of them.

  I fucked up big-time.

  I stare down at the phone and bring her number up, along with her photo, and stare down at it, my thumb hovering over the number, and debate about calling her.

  I need to hear her voice.

  More than that, I need to
feel her. Hold her close and breathe her in.

  I need it so bad it hurts.

  Instead of pressing the button to call, I lie back on the couch and stare at her sweet face, her big brown eyes, long dark hair, and remember what it’s like to feel her close to me while I sleep.

  How safe it feels to fall asleep near her, where the nightmares stay far away, and pray it’s enough to keep them at bay because I didn’t get drunk enough to numb myself tonight.

  Liquor is the only thing that numbs my brain of thoughts of Bryn and the nightmares.

  ***

  Where are they?

  “Brynna!” I scream and run through her house, up the stairs and back down again, room to room, trying to find them.

  They’re screaming and crying for me.

  “Daddy!” Maddie cries hysterically.

  “Caleb, help us!” Brynna calls out.

  Bix is barking frantically, not his alert bark, but a full-out attack bark.

  Glass shatters.

  Gunshots.

  “Daddy!”

  I can’t fucking find them!

  I run back up the stairs, but when I get there, I’m somehow in the kitchen. I need to get upstairs. That’s where the crying is coming from.

  “I’m coming!” I yell and run for the stairs again, but when I try to climb them, I’m moving in superslow motion, not able to move fast enough to get upstairs.

  “Daddy!”

  Now their cries are coming from the kitchen, but I can’t turn around to get back there.

  Fuck!

  Suddenly, everything is dead quiet. Even Bix has stopped barking, and I can hear quiet sobs coming from somewhere, although I can’t tell where. I just know that I can’t move fast enough to reach them.

  “Daddy,” Josie whispers.

  I wake with a start, gasping for breath, sweat running down my face.

  Sonofamotherfucker.

  I jump from the couch and run through the apartment, frantically searching, before it occurs to me that it was a dream and the girls aren’t here.

  “That American dream that y’all fight so hard for over there? The freedoms that you would die to protect? They’re yours, too, you know.”

  Damn right, they’re mine.

  They’re mine.

  I pull the business card from the bartender out of my back pocket and dial the number.

  It’s time to fix this shit and go home.

  ***

  “How have the nightmares been in the week since you’ve been coming to me?” Dr. Reese asks calmly.

  “I’ve only had one,” I reply and lean forward in my chair, resting my elbows on my knees.

  “That’s an improvement.”

  I nod and sigh. “Still not great in crowds.”

  “Have you been in a large crowd of people lately?” he asks with a raised brow.

  “I was at the grocery store on a Saturday. It was crowded.” I shrug.

  “And what happened?”

  “I left.”

  “The crowds may always bother you, Caleb. Post-traumatic stress disorder never really goes away. You just learn to manage and live with it.”

  “PTSD is another term for pussy, Doc. Let’s not sugarcoat it.”

  His eyes narrow on me for a moment before he frowns and sits back in his chair.

  “Are you saying that if any of your teammates…”

  “Brothers,” I correct him.

  “Brothers had survived that day on that mountain and were currently going through what you are, you’d call them a pussy?” He tilts his head, watching me carefully.

  “They didn’t survive because I couldn’t keep them safe!”

  “Caleb, it was the four of you against more than fifty heavily armed men. How in the world do you think you could all survive that?”

  “It was a fucked-up mission,” I mutter and scrub my hand over my mouth.

  “Agreed.” He nods. “But your lack of intel didn’t kill your men, Caleb. The enemy killed them. You know this.”

  “I know.” It’s the first time I’ve admitted it. “But why did I survive? I’m the cursed one, Doc.”

  “It doesn’t sound like you’re living a cursed life, Caleb. You have a great family, a woman who loves you, a strong career.”

  “And when will the other shoe drop?”

  “Why does it have to?” He leans forward in his chair and pins me in his gaze. “You did your job, Caleb. You saved Brynna and her daughters from an intruder. You did what you were there to do. You kept them safe.”

  I stare at him as images from that night race through my mind. Telling Bryn I was leaving. The shattering of the window. Fighting that motherfucker who came to hurt them. Aiming my pistol at his head and pulling the trigger.

  “I would die to keep them safe,” I whisper. “But I was so horrible to her. The things I said, telling her I don’t love her. It was the only way I could think of to push her away.”

  “Don’t you think she’ll understand that when you explain it to her? From what you’ve told me, she sounds like a reasonable woman. And you’re facing your demons to keep them in your life. You’re making progress.”

  “Well, the first step is admitting there’s a problem, right?” I ask sarcastically.

  He smirks and shakes his head. “Have you spoken to the family members of the men you lost that day?”

  I sober and blink at him slowly. “Not since their funerals.”

  “Maybe you should.”

  “Call and talk to Bates’s and Marshall’s wives and Lewis’s mom, just to hear them tell me it should have been me and hang up on me?” I ask incredulously.

  He shakes his head. “No. Call them. That’s your last lesson from me, and then I’m sending you home. You will need to continue to see someone for a while, but you’re going to be fine, Caleb.”

  Home.

  I stand and stare down at the doctor, uncertain about this last task. The talking and rehashing of the mission were hard enough.

  Talking to the family members?

  Fuck.

  “You’ll be fine,” he repeats.

  I nod and leave his office and walk briskly to my car, slam the door and pull my phone out. If this is what I have to do to get home, so be it.

  I firm my jaw and dial the first number.

  ***

  The drive back to Seattle has been too long. Another week has passed since I made those calls. A week to pack up my shit, sit through a few more sessions with the good doctor and get on the road.

  Jesus, what if she doesn’t take me back?

  I pull to a stop in front of her house and jump from the car, leaving the door wide open, and race to the front door, banging with my fist.

  No answer.

  The house is calm.

  I run around to the back and notice with satisfaction that the back window has been replaced. My workout gear is gone.

  I’ll have to replace that.

  I bang on the sliding glass door, but there is still no answer and no movement inside. Even Bix doesn’t come running to see who is knocking.

  Please let them be at her mom and dad’s.

  I climb back into the car and race to Bryn’s parents’, but am faced with another quiet, still house.

  Where is everybody?

  It’s Sunday morning, for Christ’s sake.

  With a frown, I head north of Seattle toward my parents’ house. I haven’t spoken to them, or anyone, in almost two months. I need to clear the air and apologize.

  To everyone.

  Just as I pull up to the house and step from the car, Matt pulls in behind me with Pop and Isaac with him.

  Before I can get a word out, Matt storms from his car, his eyes pissed and teeth bared and grips me by the collar of my shirt and slams me against my car.

  “You fucking cocksucker!” he yells and pulls his fist back and plants it firmly in my jaw.

  “What the fuck?” I yell and reverse our positions, pinning Matt to the car. “What the fuck is wrong with
you?”

  Instead of answering, he swings again, planting his fist in my eye, and I reel back, landing flat on my ass.

  He’s a strong fucker.

  Before Matt can continue with his ass-beating, Isaac and Pop grab both his arms and hold him back.

  “I said stop!” Pop yells.

  “Jesus Christ, man!” Isaac cries.

  “It’s his fault!” Matt points at me and spits to the side. Blood lands on the concrete from the jab I managed to get in.

  “What the fuck is my fault?” I demand and press the heel of my hand to my eye. Christ, that hurts. “I haven’t even been here!”

  “Exactly!” Matt shrugs off Isaac and Pop and gets in my face again, but doesn’t touch me. His nose is inches from mine, his eyes wide and dark in anger, jaw clenched. “You weren’t fucking here. I told you before you left she wasn’t safe yet. We didn’t know enough to pull her security.”

  “What are you saying?” I ask as my heart stutters into overdrive.

  “They’ve been hurt, son,” Pop murmurs from behind Matt.

  “What?” My eyes find Isaac’s and Pop’s only to see sadness and fear. “What?” I ask Matt.

  “Someone cut her brake line,” Isaac informs me. “She and the girls were in a pretty nasty accident last night.”

  I back away from them all, my feet moving without any direction from my head. I shove my hands up into my hair and stare at my brothers and father.

  “What?”

  “The kids aren’t banged up too badly. Mostly bruises, although Maddie needed stitches in her hand,” Isaac says.

  “Brynna?” I ask.

  “She’s unconscious,” Pop replies softly. “Concussion. Dislocated shoulder. They’re keeping her to watch the head injury and to make sure there’s nothing internal.”

  “Oh my God.”

  “There was video surveillance in the parking lot of the mall she was parked in, so we know who did it, and we have already arrested him,” Matt mutters, still glaring at me. “But you weren’t here, Caleb.”

  “Why was she alone?” I ask.

  “You weren’t fucking here!”

  “So what?” I scream back. “You’re here! You’re all here! She’s as safe with you as she was with me!”