Wash Out

by L. A. Witt

  “That’s gotta be hard. All of it.”

  “Yeah, it is. I can’t even watch some of my favorite movies anymore.” I laughed bitterly. “Pisses me off too much to see all the shit I’ll never do.”

  He arched an eyebrow. “I’m guessing we can’t watch a lot of the same movies.” For very different reasons. He didn’t say that last part out loud, but it might as well have been written across his forehead.

  I gritted my teeth. No, I wasn’t going to read something into it that wasn’t there. He had his reasons for not watching certain kinds of movies, and that had nothing to do with me or what I’d never experience. I didn’t want to give the conversation a chance to go that route, though, so I said, “Well, I’ll never be a SEAL, but the doc says I can go back to active duty soon.” I grinned. “Maybe I can finally start being a goddamned Sailor instead of an office drone. Maybe even a soldier-like being.”

  “Yeah, you mentioned that before. That’s . . . You think that’ll happen soon?”

  “Probably. Leg’s healing. Don’t need surgery again like we thought I would.” I couldn’t help grinning bigger. “Doc thinks I’ll be able to start running before too much longer, and I’ll be back to full physical readiness by the end of the year.”

  Logan’s features tightened. Subtly, but noticeably. “So you’ll . . . you really will be back on active duty soon.”

  I nodded. Cringing inwardly, I waited, wondering how he’d respond to that. We both knew what it meant. Back to active duty meant back in the running for a combat deployment. No more dodging that bullet.

  But then he swallowed and offered a faint smile. “Good. That’ll be good for your career. Kind of hard to get promoted when you’re benched.”

  Guard still up, I said, “Yeah. And no more working behind a desk, thank God.” Beat. “Not that I haven’t enjoyed—”

  “I know what you meant.” He laughed a little, but seemed kind of . . . uneasy.

  I touched his arm. “What’s wrong?”

  Logan dropped his gaze. “Just . . .”

  “Talk to me.” I tipped up his chin so we were looking at each other. “What’s on your mind?”

  He moistened his lips, then sighed. “Just thinking, when you go back to active duty, there’s no guarantee you’ll stay at Adams.”

  I swallowed, heart sinking. “No, there isn’t. I mean, I can request orders here, but if there’s no billets available . . .”

  “Exactly.” Logan searched my eyes. “So, what happens with . . .” He gestured at each of us.

  “I don’t know. I honestly don’t.” I gave his thigh a gentle squeeze. “But it’ll still be a while, you know? We have time to figure out what this”—I mirrored his gesture—“actually is, and then we can decide what to do when the time comes.”

  “True.” He nodded, and after a second, met my gaze. Another beat, and he managed a smile. “For the record, I really am happy for you. That your career’s getting back on track.”

  “As much as it ever will, I guess.”

  “Still.” He kissed my cheek. “But damn, this means I’ll have to break in a new office mate.” He sighed dramatically. “How ever will I cope?”

  “I’ll blow you at night to make up for it.”

  A laugh burst out of him. “Damn. You’re making this sound better and better.”

  “Yeah?” I grinned, relieved we were getting away from topics that could turn into minefields. Sliding my hand higher up his thigh, I said, “I don’t have to wait until I’m back on active duty for that part, do I?”

  “You’d better not.”

  “Oh really?” I narrowed my eyes playfully. “Or what?”

  “Or we won’t need any of those condoms we just bought.”

  It was my turn to laugh out loud. “Okay! Okay! You win.” I put up my hands in surrender. “Anything but that.”

  He chuckled, drawing me in closer. “That’s what I thought.”

  The training-record debacle was never going to end.

  It felt like it anyway. With the inspection starting a week from Monday, though, it needed to be done ASAP. Like . . . yesterday. Diego was getting nervous. I was getting nervous. The pile of boxes in the conference room was getting smaller, but goddamn, none of us were going to relax until it was gone.

  Which was on me.

  Now if I could just concentrate.

  I sighed, rubbing my exhausted eyes. The letters on the screen and the pages had been fuzzy since I’d walked in here this morning. Maybe I should’ve slept for another hour. It was a Saturday, after all. Wasn’t like I’d had to be in here by any particular time. Would I really be any worse off if I’d spent one more measly hour in bed? Not that I’d slept much. I’d bowed out of staying at Casey’s last night, and thank God—the nightmares that had woken me had been frequent and violent. Getting up this morning had been a relief, if anything.

  So now I was at work, ready to pass out on my desk, and replaying those fucking nightmares over and over in my head. Ever since the other day’s conversation, when he’d mentioned going back to active duty, my subconscious had been in overdrive. The nightmares were vivid and horrible, and sleep? Actual, restful sleep? Not happening.

  “Fuck my life,” I muttered at the record in front of me, which I’d done precisely nothing with in the twenty minutes since I’d pulled it from the box. I’d been here almost three hours and done a fraction of the work I could usually do in that time. My head just wasn’t in the game. Not after so little sleep.

  But I had to get this done. After a swig of coffee, I rubbed my eyes again and kept working.

  A familiar set of footsteps—one rubber, one plastic—pulled my attention away from the screen, and my heart fluttered just before the very reason I couldn’t focus appeared in the doorway.

  “Hey,” I said.

  “Came to help some more.” Casey smiled. “Same as before—the sooner you’re out of here, the sooner I can take over your weekends.”

  I laughed half-heartedly. “Be my guest.”

  Casey eyed me like he’d caught the weird note in my voice, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he left to get a box of records from the conference room. When he came back, he got to work, and aside from the odd work-related question, neither of us said much.

  The silence wasn’t awkward. It wasn’t uncomfortable. I was uncomfortable, though. Having Casey here was always a distraction, but it was different this time. I’d been off-balance all morning, and now that he was here, I was almost queasy. Last night hadn’t pulled its claws out of me. Every time I looked at Casey, I saw the nightmare that had driven me out of bed. They didn’t usually stick with me like this. Especially not once I’d scribbled them into a sketchbook.

  But I usually dreamed of people I hadn’t seen in years. Either because we’d gone our separate ways after our tour or because . . .

  My meager breakfast almost came up my throat, and I took a deep swallow of coffee to keep things where they belonged. I glanced at the back of Casey’s head and wondered if there were even words to explain to him what I’d seen last night. Or what it was doing to my brain now.

  If those words existed, they weren’t coming to me.

  Fuck.

  An hour or so after he’d arrived, I finished the set of records I’d been working on. I put the lid on the banker’s box and hoisted it onto my shoulder. Casey had apparently finished his too, because he picked it up and we walked together to the conference room.

  I dropped the box on top of the growing stack with a satisfying thump. “One down, not very many to go.”

  He chuckled as he added his to the stack. “Two boxes closer to me getting to hog your nights and weekends again.”

  “Damn right.” I surveyed the remaining boxes. The stacks were much smaller than they’d been a couple of weeks ago, and it actually looked . . . manageable. Maybe if I got some sleep, I could finish it with time to spare.

  Casey wrapped an arm around my waist. “Looks like you’ve just about pulled this all off.
Diego definitely owes you some comp time.”

  “I think he owes you some too.”

  “Nah.” Casey shook his head. Then he leaned in to kiss my cheek. “I mean, I wasn’t exactly coming in here unselfishly.”

  “Fair point.” I slid my hands into his front pockets and pulled him closer to me. “Thank you, though. Even if your motives were shady, I really do appreciate the help.”

  Casey smiled as he ran his palms up my back. “To be fair, you took on my classes when I needed a break. I’d say we’re even.”

  “And here I thought you were going to make up for the classes in a more fun way.” I gave him a playful pout.

  He held me tighter. “Oh baby. You know I will.” We exchanged smiles, and then he lifted his chin and kissed me softly. We let it linger for a moment, just wrapped up in each other and a long kiss in the middle of stacks of boxes.

  I’m so glad you’re safe.

  The thought jarred me, but I tried not to let him notice. That stupid dream and all its lingering bullshit—it kept creeping in whenever I let my guard down.

  This is why I used to drink.

  God, I want a drink.

  I need—

  No. No, I want him. Because I want him, not because he’s better than booze.

  I held him tighter and let myself get as high as he would take me. Casey wasn’t a drug. He wasn’t something to numb the past and make the present bearable. He salted those wounds like nobody else because I knew all too well he could be going over there in the not-too-distant future, so he was the opposite of an emotional anesthetic.

  I want you more than I want the nightmares to stop.

  Holy crap, that thought scared me.

  So why wasn’t I letting go?

  Casey broke the kiss and drew back. As I looked in his eyes, my dark thoughts tried to crowd their way into my mind, but I ignored them. Even if Casey was going to war at some point, he wasn’t going today, and I wasn’t going to dwell on it today. He was here now. Safe and sound. That was all that mattered.

  He glanced at the boxes beside us. “So. Think we should knock out a few more?” His eyes were sparkling with mischief. “Or bust out of here and go home?”

  It was reckless and irresponsible, even thinking about doing anything besides continuing with my project, but I was still shaken from last night. From all the thoughts that had been banging around in my skull whether I was asleep or awake. I needed to finish these records, but right now, I needed Casey in ways I couldn’t explain to him.

  “Well,” I said, “I know what we should do.”

  “But is that what we’re gonna do?”

  “Absolutely not.” I gently herded him toward the door. “Get your ID card. We’re out of here.”

  “You seem more anxious today.”

  I laughed dryly, avoiding my therapist’s gaze. “Is it that obvious?”

  Lynda tapped her pen on her notes. “What’s bothering you?”

  “The inspection at work,” I said. “It’s coming up fast.”

  “Didn’t you say before that you’re prepared for it?”

  “I am.” I exhaled, finally meeting her eyes. “I mean, I only have a couple of boxes left, and I’ll finish those tonight. Then the inspection starts on Monday.”

  She tilted her head a little. “Are you concerned that you’re getting this close and haven’t finished yet?”

  “A bit.” Some warmth rose in my face. “Especially since I, uh, probably could have finished sooner if Casey and I hadn’t blown it off a few times.”

  “From what you’ve said, you and Casey have done quite a bit in the evenings and on weekends.”

  “We have,” I said with a slow nod. “But there’s been a few nights where we’ve done like one or two records, and then decided to cut out. Or last Saturday, we only put in about half a day.” Because I was too focused on how much I needed him. Sheepishly, I held her gaze. “We’d be done by now if we’d just knuckled through it.”

  Lynda smiled. “But you’ll still be done on time. And it does sound like you and Casey have been working on it. There’s no shame in balancing work and personal time as long as the work is getting done.”

  I considered it, and after a moment, nodded. “I guess so.”

  She watched me. “Is there something else bothering you?”

  Oh, you could say that.

  She wouldn’t dig it out of me, though. Lynda and I were masters of long, unbroken silences while I waited for her to ask questions and she waited for me to volunteer answers. It had annoyed me in the beginning, but turned out to be effective as hell.

  I took a deep breath. “It’s Casey. He’s . . . We talked last week, and his leg is getting better. Which means he’ll be going back to active duty.”

  “When?”

  “Don’t know yet.” I shook my head. “Could be a few weeks. Could be months. But it won’t be as long as I’d like it to be.”

  “And you’re worried about how this will affect your relationship.”

  “That’s part of it.” I rubbed the back of my neck. “I told him I’m worried about what happens to us if he gets transferred to another base. And I am.”

  She lifted her eyebrows. “But . . .?”

  Sighing, I stared down at my hands. “But I’m really worried about what’ll happen to him if he gets deployed.”

  “To a combat zone?”

  I nodded. “It’s . . .” I blew out a breath. “I started having nightmares again. Bad ones. As soon as he told me, it just . . . it fucked with my mind.”

  “That’s understandable, given everything you’ve been through.”

  “But what do I do?” I hated how pathetic I sounded.

  “What do you think you should do?”

  I swallowed. “Talk to him.”

  Lynda nodded. “He deserves to know how you feel. And you deserve to be able to say how you feel.”

  “But he’s already . . .” I wiped a hand over my face. “He’s had such a hard time accepting he’ll never be a SEAL. What if he thinks I’m saying I can’t accept him like this? I have my issues with being in combat, and I’m fucking terrified of something happening to him over there, but I don’t want to suffocate him, you know?” I paused, letting my own words sink in. “I . . . I would never try to stop him. I’m just scared.”

  “For him, and also for yourself? For you two as a couple?”

  I nodded.

  “That’s understandable, Logan,” she said softly. “You obviously have feelings for him, and you want him to be safe. You also want to continue your relationship with him. Correct?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You also have a right to be safe yourself. Which means if you can’t handle being in a relationship with someone who’s going into combat, it’s okay to pull away. Even if it’s hard and it isn’t what you want.” She inclined her head, and her voice was even softer as she added, “Just remember to protect yourself, okay?”

  I swallowed hard. “Yeah. But I really do want to make this work with him.”

  “I know. And there’s nothing that says you can’t. You just need to be aware that the safest, healthiest choice for both of you could be the one you don’t want to consider.”

  “Which means I should consider it.”

  “Yes.” Lynda folded her hands on top of her notes. “Consider your options from all angles. Consider how you feel about each of those options. And then talk to Casey.”

  I chewed on what she’d said, and after a moment, managed a nod. “I’ll talk to him after work.”

  “Good. And good luck.”

  “Oh no. No, no, no, no . . .”

  The words in the email I’d just read flashed in my mind.

  Inspection – 0700 Monday.

  The inspection . . . started Monday.

  Of course I’d known that, but I’d thought I’d had everything under control. Now, as I stared in horror at the dozen boxes of untouched training records, I was panicking. “Oh shit . . .”

  I’d gotten
cocky. Working through the stacks at a comfortable pace, telling myself I could totally do this, not to mention taking for granted how much Casey and I had been able to accomplish by working together. And we had. We’d worked our way through the records, and I’d been totally chill about the inspection. Wasn’t like it had caught me by surprise. Not when it was the only thing anyone had talked about for the last week and a half. I swore if Diego asked me one more time if I was sure we’d be ready, I’d lose my shit.

  Except . . .

  Fuck my life.

  No, the inspection hadn’t caught me by surprise. The twin stacks of boxes behind the conference room door? Those had blindsided my ass.

  Every day, I’d walked past them. Every day, I’d probably looked right at them and just not registered they were there. My world had been banker boxes, and somehow those two teetering stacks had just . . . faded into the background.

  Until I came in just before three this afternoon, ready to dump off the last box. I’d set it down, taken a moment to gloat about a job well done in the nick of time, and turned to leave.

  And there they were.

  Right where they’d been this entire time.

  My shoulders sagged as reality came crashing in.

  Diego. Was going. To kill me.

  Shit. Shit, shit, shit. I raked a hand through my hair as I tried to quell my panic and figure out a solution at the same time. I wasn’t getting very far with either.

  Heart racing, I hurried back to the office. “Diego?” I called out as I stepped through the door.

  “He’s in a meeting,” Casey said. “You just missed him.”

  “Good.” I leaned over Casey’s cubicle wall. “Because I’ve got a problem.”

  Casey’s eyes widened. “What’s up?”

  I beckoned to him, and he got up. Without a word, we hurried down the hall to the conference room.

  As soon as we were clear of the door, I turned around and pointed. “That.”

  Casey looked in the direction I’d indicated, and his shoulders dropped. “Oh no . . .”

  “I am so fucked,” I breathed.

  Casey’s eyes were huge. After a moment, though, he turned to me and put a hand on my shoulder. “Okay, listen. I know what we can do.”