Crave: Addicted To You

by Ash Harlow

  He stepped out of the shadows, pressing the heel of his hand against his temple. “I thought so. I know that, now.” He paused, and Marlo stood quietly, giving him time. “I saw someone on the roof yesterday. I thought there was a sniper. I must be going crazy.”

  “You’re not, Vince.” She said gently. “I know that you’re not. Another thing I know is that what you’re going through is really debilitating.”

  His fists tightened. “You have no idea what I’m going through.”

  “I have PTSD. You have PTSD. We have it for different reasons, our triggers are different, but I know what PTSD is. I’m not belittling your experience; I certainly don’t pretend to understand it, but I know you are in pain and in a place you don’t want to be.” She waited, keeping watch on his fists and the rigid cord of muscle in his neck. Pent-up energy poured off him in waves. She had to get him calmer. “Why don’t you try some of that tactical breathing I’m sure you’ve learned?”

  “You have PTSD?”

  “Yeah, I do—”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Uh-huh. Now, what about the breathing?”

  He nodded, and, in her mind, she counted the seconds of his breath intake, hold, exhale, and hold again. Gradually the tension eased until his fists unfurled, and his shoulders released. “Better?”

  “Thanks. I’m glad you’re here.”

  She let herself smile. “I am too.”

  “I want you to take Calliope back.”

  Woah, didn’t see that coming. Marlo shook her head. “No, you need her.”

  “I don’t want the responsibility. I can’t care for her. She puts pressure on me.” Calliope lay at his feet, totally focused on him.

  “No, she doesn’t, Vince; she does the exact opposite. She watches out for you. She won’t make any demands, nor will she judge you. She will keep your secrets and never stop loving you no matter what you tell her.”

  He took a deep breath as if drawing in courage. “I’m frightened I’ll hurt her.”

  Oh, God. Everything in her wanted to go to Vince, draw him into her arms and hold him until his pain became tolerable. “I wouldn’t have let you take her if I believed there was a risk of you hurting her.”

  She had a flash of the time in her kitchen when she thought Justice had been put to sleep. The moment when Adam, arms held wide, simply wanted to comfort her. She had rejected him, by taking all the compassion and concern he had for her and shoving it back at him. Her eyes burned and a nasty little lump clogged her throat, as his words rang in her ears: Comforting, Marlo. It’s a normal response…it’s what people do.

  She had to do it for Vince. It might be the wrong move, but she wouldn’t leave the house without trying.

  She stepped towards him, opening her arms as she neared. The misery on his face changed quickly to alarm as she drew closer. Marlo hesitated. Now she wasn’t so sure. He was a fit, strong Marine, well-skilled in combat fighting. Those forearms, hell, he could so easily harm her. She had to prove to him that she trusted he would never do that.

  “Come on, Vince, to me,” she said gently. “I know it’s all loud and crazy in your head at the moment. Let me help you bring the volume down a bit.”

  He shook his head. “I can’t, please don’t…”

  She kept her arms open and took another step. “How long since someone held you?”

  He was silent for so long she thought he wouldn’t answer.

  His gaze dropped to the floor. “Too long,” he whispered.

  She took that last step and slipped her arms beneath his, clamped tight at his side. She spoke into his body. “Let me hold you, as a friend.” Her arms didn’t meet around his broad back, and he felt so tense, he might snap. “Breathe, Vince.”

  Finally, his breath came deep, and, as he exhaled, a great shudder ran through his body, and with the next deep breath came the tears. Together, she and Vince slid down against the wall to the floor and held each other as he gave in to the misery that shook him.

  At last, his tension ebbed and the tears ran out. He pulled back, looked at Marlo, and gave a small smile. “I’m safe. It’s not happening now.”

  Marlo squeezed him and smiled at the classic PTSD grounding line he’d given her. “No, it’s not happening now. Welcome back.”

  They sat together quietly for some minutes before Vince spoke.

  “I think I’ll take Calliope out to the lakes this afternoon for a swim.”

  Oh, thank you, universe. “Great idea. She’ll love that. And, Vince, let me work on something. We can train Calliope to help you, so that she’ll always have your back. They’re doing a lot of good things with dogs helping vets with PTSD.”

  “I dunno.”

  “That’s okay. Let me see what I can come up with.”

  He smiled. That was good. A smile, right now, was enough. “Can I share something with you, and after that, I’ll go. It’s something I’d like you to think about if you can.”

  “Sure.”

  Marlo almost laughed. Right now he looked as though he’d agree to dying his hair pink, and wearing a tutu to the mall, if it would get her out of his face. “First, I want you to know that I won’t discuss with anyone anything that happened here today, so I don’t want you to be concerned about that.”

  Vince nodded.

  “I’m guessing you’re in counseling, and, if you’re not, maybe that’s something we can talk about when you’re ready.”

  “I have a counselor.”

  “Great. Do you keep appointments?”

  “Mostly.”

  If nothing, he’s honest. “I know how difficult it is to ask for help. That’s something I’ve only recently learned to do. Adam taught me how. It’s one of the most important life skills you can have, and for people like you and me, it’s a very difficult skill to learn.

  “Lulah and I are always here for you. You only need to call or send a text, and we’ll listen. Lulah is fantastic, Vince. She never puts pressure on you, and she doesn’t get in your face. She simply listens.”

  Vince shook his head. “Not Lulah.”

  “Can you tell me why?”

  He reached with one hand to his forehead, pressing his temples between his thumb and middle finger. “Not really…I like her too much. I’m not going to drag her into the mess that I am.”

  “Why not give her the opportunity to make that decision with you?”

  “No way.”

  Marlo could see the anxiety returning to his face. “Okay,” she said gently. “That’s fine. Do remember that we’re here for you, any hour, any day. I’ll get on my way, now. Enjoy your swim.” As she reached to open the door, Vince stopped her.

  “How’s Adam?” he asked.

  Oh, nice shot. “I don’t know.” She kept her back to him as a rush of heat colored her face.

  “You didn’t want him in your mess, either.”

  Not at first. Not until he showed her that together they could make it better. She turned back to him. He needed to see the honesty in her face, the truth in her words. “Wrong, Vince. I went the distance in the end, and it was worth it.”

  Vince grinned. “Good. But from what I see, you guys didn’t go the distance. You only started that race. You haven’t reached the finish line, yet. Why not go and find out how he is?”

  Marlo released Fala’s muzzle and listened for the telltale click of the pill hitting the floor which meant she’d spat it out. The dog had become quite clever, pretending to swallow her meds, only to spit them out moments later. “Come on, girl, do it for your sick kidneys.” Do it for Adam.

  Carrying her coffee, she followed Fala out of the room and watched the dog find a warm spot on the patio on which to lie. For a brief time, Adam had been the one to administer Fala’s meds. Of course, she’d taken them from him and swallowed, wagged her tail, and waited for the reward of a piece of hotdog. When Marlo tried the same method, Fala turned her head and walked off, jaw firmly shut.

  Turned out, both she and the dog were happy to t
ry out things for Adam that they wouldn’t do for anyone else. She sat on the daybed and conjured the image of him in New Zealand. The one where she had him seated on the porch of his cottage, surrounded by ancient trees and crashing surf.

  She knew she’d made progress since he’d left, though it still took all her strength of will not to press the send button on the email she wrote to him each evening. Sure, she saved each draft, but she wouldn’t send. She used the emails the way others kept a journal; telling him about her day, her thoughts, fears, the new things she tried, how much she missed him. How she missed his touch and kind words and waking in the night nestled against his hard, hot body…making love with him. Yeah, she sure missed that.

  She didn’t send the email messages, but she tried so damned hard to send him one telepathically. What a fool. Each night in bed, after she switched off her lamp, she would touch his pillow and whisper two words. Come back. Then she would envision Justice making his way through the forest and send the same message to him.

  Yup, getting along just fine.

  Tonight she’d tell Adam about the swimming lessons she was taking at the pool in town. She wouldn’t tell him about the man she’d seen leaving the dressing room. The tall, dark-haired one with a similar physique to his. It had made her breath stop, until he turned and she saw the man wasn’t Adam, not even close, and she was able to breathe again.

  She talked about him more with Lulah and Sally and could do that now without that hard rock of yearning clogging her heart. She looked at the phone. There were old voicemail messages on it from Adam. She had listened to one of them, once, and the ache it left in her was so overwhelming she hadn’t the courage to listen again. Still she couldn’t quite make herself delete them.

  Not completely brave yet. Was there another relationship in her future? Would she ever be bold enough to open herself to a man? She couldn’t imagine that happening, feeling attraction and longing for another person the way she had for Adam. But one thing she knew, the dogs were no longer enough. Something large was missing.

  At last, she was starting to understand her mother. Maybe Marlo’s father had been the true love of her life. Possibly, the pain of their parting had prevented her from ever discussing him with Marlo. She got that, too. It would have been so easy to shut off after Adam went. Lock his memory down in one of those steel boxes she found so easy to construct in her mind. But he didn’t deserve that…they didn’t deserve that, so these days he was totally up for discussion if anyone wanted to talk about him.

  Maybe her mother had simply spent her life trying to recreate that love she once had, but within the string of men who came and went, the right one never turned up. You had to forgive a woman for trying, and that forgiveness was so good. Understanding liberated her and made her childhood less daunting, easier to manage.

  She headed down to her office. She was expecting a trainer who specialized in teaching assistance dogs for people suffering PTSD. This guy’s main field was working with veterans suffering combat PTSD, and, if the meeting went well, they would start work with Vince and Calliope.

  Now she needed to persuade Vince that it was a good idea.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Accepted! The precious work visa was granted. Adam struggled not to share the news with Marlo, because he had made a pact with himself that he wouldn’t jinx this. He laughed at his superstition, out of character, but he wanted this so badly it hurt.

  In those wakeful middle-of-the-night moments when logic stayed asleep, small bursts of fear made him worry that maybe Marlo had found a boyfriend, a lover. Their relationship had ended with a full stop the size of a black hole. There hadn’t been a single hint or promise of a future together. Once you go, it’s over. God, he’d lived with those words echoing in his head for months now. Their familiarity never made them any easier to bear.

  Adam couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Please, Mum, I said no party, I really wanted to quietly slip away.”

  His mother laughed. “Quietly slipping away is something old people wish for when they’re contemplating death.”

  “Well, a party will kill me.”

  “Now you’re being dramatic.”

  “I mean it.”

  His mother sighed. “Okay, no party. We’ll have a family dinner.”

  Judging by the cars lining his parent’s driveway, his ‘family’ had grown some since the last dinner they’d had together. He had expected it would be himself, his parents and Clive and Karen. Instead, the place looked like a car sales yard. He contemplated going around the back, catching Clive’s attention and sneaking off with him, the way they had as teenagers during these events.

  He would be home for holidays, and, since he’d accepted the job offer, he had promised the family—his mother, almost daily— that he would bring Marlo back to meet them as soon as he could. He hesitated on the porch, listening to the rumble of voices inside. This was madness.

  If only he could ditch the unease. The farewell dinner, the questions about his new job, the hints about a new woman in his life…all these things made him feel as if he was gun-jumping on his future. And what was going on with these superstitious feelings?

  He rubbed the back of his head, fixed himself a smile, and stepped into the house. Aunties assailed him with bosoms, beads, powdered faces, and bee-sting lips while uncles with ruddy cheeks stood back clutching beers.

  Children had become surly teenagers since their last big gathering, and new children had arrived to play with the old toys. He was astounded, really, that he was blood-linked to the connecting people in this enormous group. When the realization hit him, he wondered why it had taken so long to appreciate how lucky he was.

  Under similar circumstances, Marlo wouldn’t have had a single person at her side. Damn, he had to get her and show her all of this, make her part of it, too.

  Suddenly the idea of not having this rowdy gang of people who spanned generations, this support network who were there for crises and celebrations, was fearsome. Was it any wonder Marlo had no idea how to ask for or accept help? God, he couldn’t bring her into the fold fast enough.

  From outside came the aroma of the free-range pig turning slowly on the spit. In the kitchen, salads, vegetables, and freshly baked bread were dished onto enormous serving platters. As he relaxed into the scene, his earlier anxiety left him. Yeah, they could turn on comfort and a feast in the country.

  He accepted a beer from a young lad, a cousin’s son—Tyler? Taylor?—who, before relinquishing his grasp on the bottle, asked if he could have a quick sip.

  “Daddy lets me,” he assured Adam, the earnestness on his face doing a poor job of covering the lie.

  Adam ruffled his hair. “Daddy would have my bal–brains on a plate if I let you do that.”

  An inconsolable baby was passed around like a hot potato until its mother arrived to take it and feed. Clive appeared, and Adam nudged him in the ribs. “That’ll be you, soon, mate.”

  “Wrong. That’ll be Karen. I don’t have the right equipment.”

  “Fathers are just as involved these days, caveman.”

  “I’ll take over when it’s time for quad-bike lessons and learning how to work a dog.”

  Adam laughed. “We’ll see.”

  When dinner finished, Adam’s father stood, hit his glass with his fork to summon some quiet, raising himself another inch before starting his speech. He said how proud he was of Adam and how much they would all miss him. Customary words from a man who never wasted them. Most of all he hammered in the fact that if Marlo wasn’t brought home to meet them all by the following Christmas, he’d be on a plane to haul them back.

  Hell, no pressure.

  Adam scanned the room as he stood to reply, lucky and loved by the lottery of birth. The drive to show Marlo what a family could be roared through him like a rush of heat. As he faced his father to tell him of his gratitude, emotion dampened the heat so that, dammit, those lilies were making his eyes water. He shifted the vase, rubbed
his forehead, thought of Clive, and raised his head to look his father in the eye.

  “Dad?” Oh, God, Dad! He pushed through the stunned people to catch him before he hit the floor.

  The waiting room of the hospital Intensive Care Unit was familiar to Adam. He’d been in this same spot many times as a police officer, attending road accident victims, assault victims, victims of life in general, forced to behave as dispassionately as he could around the blank-faced, family members who gathered. For most of them, this environment was as foreign as a lunar landscape.

  Being one of them didn’t feel great at all. He took his mother in his arms, and she held him tight. When she released him, he looked at the same staring eyes, that lost-look mask that people wore as they passed through the ICU waiting room doors. “He’s strong, Mum. He’ll pull through.”

  She managed a tiny smile. “Yes, darling, I know.”

  When they were finally allowed in to see him, they couldn’t tell where they could touch him. The light was low, and the tubes and wires made him look as if he were under attack from some sort of electronic jungle vine.

  A doctor spoke to them in low, economical tones, and they nodded politely and agreed they should all get home to take some rest.

  A couple of days on, angioplasty had cleared his father’s blocked arteries, but Adam knew the crisis wasn’t over. His father was mortal. The thought shocked him when it shouldn’t have. His mother would need his support, and if, God forbid, his father had a relapse…no, that didn’t bear thinking about.

  He sat on the beach contemplating the certainty of the next wave rolling in versus the uncertainty of his future. He couldn’t leave the family in this mess. Not right now with his father unable to work for some time, and Clive and Karen with their baby on the way. They all needed his help and support.

  Marlo. Fuck it. When was she going to get a break? At least he’d had the sense not to tell her about his return to the U.S. She had no idea he’d let her down, again. He found nothing harder to accept than a decision made for him.