If You Leave: The Beautifully Broken Series: Book 2

by Courtney Cole

  Wanna meet me at the pier by your house after you leave work?

  It only takes her a few minutes to reply.

  Sure. Why?

  I answer back, I need to talk.

  A split second later she answers. Hmmm. Ok. I’ll see you around 9:30.

  I head home and shower, messing around the house for a while, until it’s time to go. I leave a little early and sit on the end of the pier with my legs hanging off, throwing stones until Maddy shows up.

  Even if I hadn’t heard her car door slamming in the parking lot, I would feel her presence. She stares a hole between my shoulder blades as she walks down the long pier to meet me. She situates herself next to me, taking a stone from my hand and throwing it. It skips once on the surface of the water, then sinks like the stone that it is.

  “So, what’s up?” Maddy asks quietly. From the look on her face, I think she probably thinks that I’m going to end things with her.

  “Remember when I told you that I had shit you don’t know?” I ask solemnly, heaving another stone out into the water.

  She pretends to think about that. “Yeah, I seem to remember something about that.”

  “Well, I decided you should know about it.”

  Maddy inhales deeply and stares at me.

  “You sure?”

  I shake my head. “No. But you were fucking brave yesterday. I’m not pussy enough that I can’t do it too. But you might think I’m a pussy by the time I’m done talking.”

  Maddy sticks her chin out and looks me in the eye. “I doubt it, but there’s only one way to find out.”

  I take a deep breath, then another. The night air is chilly and fireflies flit around us. For just a second I contemplate changing my mind. But that’s not an option.

  Just do it, you fucking pussy.

  “OK,” I begin. “You know that I was in Afghanistan with the Rangers. You know that I had to do some shitty things. But there was something, one thing that happened that fucked Brand and me up. It’s why we’re here, in the comfort of air-conditioned homes and eating decent food while our guys are still in the hot-as-hell desert eating MREs.”

  Madison stares at me, waiting.

  “OK,” she says. “I understand that part. And I know that if it wasn’t something terrible, you wouldn’t be here. I’m ready to hear it. I’m not going to judge you.”

  I stare at her in the dark. “I need you to know that it was the worst day of my life. I can’t tell you all of it, but I want you to know what you’re dealing with, OK?”

  She stares at me solemnly, nodding.

  I inhale, then exhale. My breath sounds ragged in the night but I ignore it. Instead I focus on the words I’m saying, focusing on each one separately so I can get through them all.

  “It’s hard to know where to start. Afghanistan was fucking brutal. I guess I can start with that. Hot, sweaty, smelly. Everywhere we went we had to watch over our shoulders. People hated us but pretended they didn’t. It got to be a lot to take. But I could’ve taken it. Forever, if need be, because that was the life I chose. It was what I wanted. But one night something happened that broke me. It completely broke me, Madison.”

  I pause, gathering my thoughts, gathering myself before I continue. I can’t even look at Madison’s face. I don’t want to see what she’s thinking.

  “One night it was so fucking hot and black, and Brand and I were doing patrols outside of Kabul with our friend Mad Dog. We were leading a four-Humvee convoy, headed to a break-apart point where we would separate into four directions. Right after we separated, a bomb went off. Our Humvee exploded into a million pieces—and it blew Mad Dog apart.”

  Madison sucks in her breath, silently waiting for more. I swallow.

  “He was a good guy, Maddy. A real good guy. He had a wife and a little baby back home. He got his name from drinking too much cheap ass Mad Dog and he never lost at poker. Ever. He was a good friend. And I repaid him for that by making a decision that blew him into a million fucking pieces.”

  I stare at the water now as I pause to collect myself. Because all I can see in my head is the memory of his intestines piled outside his body in a pool of blood that looked black in the night.

  All I can see in my head is everything else, everything I can’t tell Madison about. The rest of the story.

  Maddy breathes in, then out, and I can see that what I’ve told her is enough.

  “I’m so sorry, Gabriel. Oh my God. It’s just so horrible. I don’t know what to say. I’m so sorry. You can’t blame yourself, though. There’s no way that was your fault.”

  I look at her and her gorgeous face is drawn, tightened up in horror.

  “That’s just it. I made a mistake. That’s what happened that night. And when I came home, I went to Mad Dog’s funeral. When I tried to hand his wife the flag that covered his coffin, she looked me in the eye and said, ‘It should’ve been you.’ Because it should’ve been. She knew the truth.”

  She knew all the things that I can’t tell Maddy.

  She knew what really happened. She’d read the army’s incident report, the black-and-white words that couldn’t possibly explain the incident.

  Heat flares up in my throat, threatening to close it. I swallow, then swallow again as I try to relax, to breathe.

  Just breathe, motherfucker.

  Maddy wraps her arms around my shoulders and holds me tight, her breath soft on my neck.

  “You can’t believe that,” she tells me softly, her lips grazing my ear. “You can’t believe that. You’re strong and good, Gabriel. It was a horrible accident. You didn’t cause it.”

  I look at her again, a lump in my throat.

  “I did cause it,” I tell her. “You don’t need to know how. What you need to know, though, is that I came home fucked up. The past doesn’t stay in the past, Maddy. I came home with PTSD and I can’t fix myself. I’m not normal anymore. And I don’t think you should be with someone like me.”

  Maddy looks at me, her eyes glistening with unshed tears, filled with sympathy for me. I should hate that, but I’m so fucking glad not to see judgment in them that I don’t. I’m so fucking glad not to see that she thinks I’m weak. Or pathetic. Or all the other things that go through my own mind.

  “No, you’re not normal,” she tells me firmly. “You’re good and strong and brave. You put your life on the line every day for people like me, so that we can sleep safely at night. You did unimaginable things, Gabe. For people like me. Trust me, I want to be with someone like you,” she tells me. “So don’t even try that shit with me.”

  Then her eyes widen.

  “That night in Chicago. You were having flashbacks, weren’t you?”

  I nod, not looking at her. “It happens at fucked-up random times. I can’t control it and that’s the most fucked-up part. It gives me a weakness.”

  Maddy looks at me. “And you can’t have a weakness? Even Achilles had a bad heel.”

  I roll my eyes. “If I remember right, Achilles died because of his heel.”

  “True,” she acknowledges. “Gabe, you’re not weak. I’m so sorry that any of this happened to you. You didn’t deserve that. And I hate that you think you have to hide it. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. I’ve heard that lots of soldiers come home with PTSD. Even the biggest and strongest like you.”

  I just shake my head. There’s nothing I can say to make her understand how emasculating it is. How much it fucking sucks to have a weakness like this one.

  “What are you doing about it?” she asks hesitantly. “What’s the treatment?”

  I shake my head again. “I declined treatment when I came home. I mean, I saw a shrink a couple times, but I didn’t do the extensive program that Brand signed up for. It’s called CPT. It stands for cognitive processing therapy or something like that. Brand told me that it fucking sucked, but still thought I should do it. I said no way in hell. I’ll deal with it on my own.”

  “And how’s that working out?” Maddy sounds doubtful.
<
br />   “Shitty,” I admit. “But it can’t be worse than CPT.”

  “How long does the CPT last?” Maddy asks curiously. “Can you still do it?”

  “I could,” I answer carefully. “But I don’t want to. It’s supposed to be a week of pure hell. I’ve had enough of hell.”

  “OK,” Maddy answers uncertainly. “But do you remember what you told me yesterday? You said you could see that I’m afraid to face my demons, that until I do, I’ll always be hung up in the past. Those were pretty wise words, Gabe. And I think they might apply to you too.”

  I shake my head. “Your past is different from mine, Maddy. People died because of me. It’s not the same.”

  She stares at me doubtfully, but doesn’t push it.

  “I’m sure you know what you’re doing.”

  I don’t.

  But I don’t say that.

  Instead I look at her again. “Do you think I’m a crazy asshole now?”

  She stares at me like I’m actually crazy.

  “Gabe, I saw you melt down in Chicago. Trust me, my imagination was way worse than reality. When you didn’t say anything about it, I thought you might actually be crazy. But you’re not.”

  I stand up and hold out my hand to help her up. “Do you hate me now?”

  “For what?” She’s incredulous. “For doing your job? For coming home devastated? For losing your friend? Um, no. I respect you even more for what you’ve been through.”

  “Maybe you’re the crazy one,” I mutter as we walk down the pier.

  “We shouldn’t rule that out,” she agrees. I chuckle, a low sound in the night, before I tuck her into her car. “Meet me at my house,” she suggests. “Stay with me tonight.”

  I tense up automatically, out of sheer habit. “I don’t think so,” I tell her. “I don’t think I should.”

  “But I know what to expect, right?” she answers. “Nightmares, tossing and turning? Trust me, I’ve seen it already. I saw it that first night and I saw it last night. You woke me up from the couch. It’s not that big a deal.”

  I picture that girl in Kabul. The blood running down the side of her face. She would beg to differ, I’m sure.

  But that was almost a year ago. Surely I’ve come a long way since then.

  Surely.

  I finally nod. “All right. I’ll meet you at your house.”

  Maddy grins beatifically. “Perfect. See you there.”

  I get into my car and sit there for a second. I can’t believe I just did that. I might not have told her everything, but I told her some of it and she didn’t run.

  I take a shaky breath in. Then out.

  Is it possible that everything might really turn out OK?

  Is it possible that like Maddy, I can face what happened and move on with life?

  It seems too much to hope for.

  Yet that’s exactly what I’m doing.

  Hoping.

  I start my car and follow Madison’s taillights to her house. In the dark they almost seem like glowing red eyes watching me.

  The bad thing caught you.

  Fuck the bad thing.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Madison

  Driving to my house, I think about what Gabriel said. And it all makes perfect sense.

  No wonder he freaked out in Chicago when our taxi exploded. It was an explosion, for God’s sake. It must’ve seemed just like the bomb in Kabul.

  I swallow hard.

  Hearing him talk like that, so vulnerable and hurt, touches me in a place that I’ve never been touched, a deep-down place where wives and mothers keep their protective instincts.

  It makes me want to wrap my arms around him and hold him where I can protect him, as if I could. I know that I can’t, just as I know he would never allow it. He’s as alpha-male as they come.

  I pull into my driveway, get out of my car and meet Gabe as he’s stepping out of his Camaro. I drag his face down to mine, kissing him hard. He’s surprised, but wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me closer, returning my kiss.

  Finally he pulls back. “What was that for?”

  I shake my head. “Just for being you.”

  He looks at me skeptically, but doesn’t push it. He simply follows me into the house. Knowing what happened to him puts me in a sentimental mood and all I want to do is sit around and stare at him, marveling at his bravery. Or hold him tight. Or drape myself in his arms. All of these things would make me look crazy, so I don’t do any of them.

  Instead I suggest that we sit in the hot tub.

  “You have a hot tub?” He raises an eyebrow. “How did I not know this?”

  “It never came up before.” I shrug.

  “I don’t have a swimsuit,” he warns me, his dark eyebrow lifted. I smile.

  “You don’t need one.”

  I tug him by the hand until we reach the sunken hot tub on my veranda. Gabe eyes it in surprise.

  “I didn’t even notice it was here that first night that we… well, I didn’t see it.”

  I laugh as I step out of my shorts, then peel off my top. “We were a little distracted that night.”

  I take off my bra and then step out of my panties, standing in front of him completely nude. He eyes me in appreciation, his gaze doing a slow sweep up and down my body.

  “I’m a little distracted right now,” he admits, undoing his own pants and shedding his clothes.

  He pulls me to him, my skin against his, his hands running up and down my backside.

  “Have I ever told you that you have the sexiest ass in the world?” he asks quietly.

  “No, you haven’t,” I chuckle. “But feel free to.”

  “You do,” he announces against my lips. “I could keep it in my hands all day.”

  “Why don’t you keep it in your hands over here where it’s warm?” I suggest, as I move away from him and toward the hot tub.

  Gabe slips out of his clothes and follows me, and true to form, he does grab my ass as I step into the steaming water.

  Once I sink down in the water, I climb onto Gabe’s lap.

  The feeling of his skin against mine instantly turns me on and I kiss him hard. For a reason that I can’t explain, I need to feel close to him tonight. I want to absorb his pain, all the pain he’s been hiding. I want to take it away so he doesn’t feel it anymore.

  I want to drown in him. I want him to drown in me. My body and his body and nothing in between.

  And there’s only one way I know of that I can do that.

  I slide my hand along his stiff cock, listening to the way Gabe sucks in his breath as I touch him. I love the way his voice sounds in the dark, I love the way he feels against my hand. I love the way he responds to me.

  I love the way he opened himself to me.

  The way he trusted me with himself.

  I love the way he feels beneath me, his thighs under mine.

  I kiss him again, muffling his full-throated groan with my lips, and it’s like he knows my thoughts, he knows all of these things that I love about him.

  And I don’t even have to say it.

  Without another word, I lower myself on him in the water, burying his cock deep inside me, and he throws his head back, gripping my back with his large hands.

  “Don’t you want a condom?” he manages to say, lifting his head and looking at me with stormy eyes. I shake my head.

  “I’m on the pill. And I trust you.”

  “Fuck, Mad,” he groans, as I lift myself up and down the length of him.

  The water makes it easy to take more of him in me, to sink fully down on him. I can tell it’s driving him crazy. But it’s driving me crazy too. The way his skin slides against me makes me want to cry, my nerves are so feverish, my emotions so raw.

  I want him to come, though. I want to absorb him into me, I want to take everything he can give me. Take and take and take. All of it.

  “Come for me, Gabe,” I whisper against his throat, since his head is tipped back. I kiss it slowly, lic
king the wetness from his skin, tasting him. “Come for me.”

  He groans. “You’re killing me.”

  I laugh, a low and husky sound because I’m so turned on. “That’s the point,” I tell him. “I want you to come. I want to feel it.”

  I move faster, slipping up and down his length, until he does groan and grab at me, and I know he’s coming. I feel him throb and pulse. I feel the heat of it inside me and I smile.

  “Now was that so hard?” I ask with a smile as I curl onto his lap. He grins.

  “No. That’s the problem,” he answers. “It wasn’t hard at all. But you didn’t come. We need to take care of that. Fair is fair.”

  Even as I protest and tell him that he doesn’t need to, he flips me onto my back and holds me against him as he slips his fingers into me. Moving fluidly, he deftly and quickly brings me to my own climax and I come and come, twisting and writhing beneath his hand.

  “You’re good at that,” I finally tell him when I can breathe again. He grins.

  “Thank God. You’re insatiable.”

  “Whatever,” I chuckle. We lie in the hot tub until our fingers start to prune.

  “I think we’re going to have to drain this, sanitize it, and refill it,” I mention as we climb out and wrap ourselves in towels. Gabe chuckles.

  “Why? Is anyone else besides us going to be using it?”

  He has a point.

  We order Chinese and curl up on the sofa to eat it. We watch a movie until we’re sleepy enough for bed and then it’s finally my favorite time of day.

  I love the night because I love snuggling against Gabe’s hard chest. I love it when his arms close around me and he holds me close. I feel safe and secure, as though nothing from the real world can touch me.

  And tonight he won’t be leaving. He’ll stay with me all night. It’s a thought that makes me smile.

  As I lie inside the crook of his elbow, I listen to the crickets chirping outside my window and the lake crashing against the shore, lulling me to sleep. I listen to Gabe’s rhythmic breathing and the sounds of his light snore when he slips even deeper into sleep.

  I don’t know how long it is before I follow him.

  I don’t know how much time passes until I’m awakened.