Gabriel
Screams fill my ears once again, just like they do whenever I remember that fucking night. I stare at the paper in front of me.
So if everything was your fault, how could you have stopped it? Let’s work through this. Write down on that piece of paper every single thing you could have done to prevent Ara Sahar and Mad Dog’s deaths… or the deaths of the girls and women in the village. Because the way I see it, there was never a way to save them. Try and prove me wrong.
The blank whiteness of the paper mocks me, as my pen lingers motionless above it. I listen to the tick of the clock and I stare at my shoes. Finally I scribble out an answer.
I fucking hate this shit. The therapist is just going to tear my answers apart in the morning.
A soft rap on the door interrupts my homework, thankfully. I answer it to find the army nurse.
“Hey, soldier,” she greets me with a grin, as she tosses me a cold soda. “How was your session?”
I practically growl a response as I drop back onto the bed, cracking the soda open and taking a gulp. “I hate this shit.”
Annie perches in the chair, her combat boots shined to a perfect gleam.
“I know,” she answers sympathetically. “You’re going to hate it the whole time. But I’ve gotta tell you. It does help. All the questions they ask actually have a purpose. They get us thinking in ways we didn’t before. I’m still having the nightmares, but they don’t last all night long. I’m still jumpy, but I don’t look over my shoulder as much. We might actually do this, soldier.”
“I’m not a soldier anymore,” I tell her as I scribble another answer onto the work sheet. She rolls her eyes.
“You know as well as I do that you’ll always be a soldier. It’s in your blood.”
And it is.
It feels good to sit and talk with someone who gets that. Brand gets it, but we don’t talk about it. Men just don’t.
Annie glances at me. “Do you ever miss it?”
It’s my turn to roll my eyes now. “What do you think?”
She grins. “I’d miss it like hell. When I first came back, my parents begged me to resign my commission, to come out into civilian life and be ‘normal.’ As if that was going to happen. I’m a soldier. I’ll always be a soldier. I can’t imagine turning in my boots.”
It’s like a sucker punch because I did turn in my boots.
“Everyone has to do what is best for them,” I finally answer. “I had to resign because that was best for me and best for my squad.”
Annie nods understandingly and I know that she does, in fact, understand. She can’t possibly know what it was like to be a Ranger or to resign from the job that I dreamed my entire life of having, but she knows what it’s like to be a soldier to the bone.
That kind of understanding makes it easy to relate to her. And easy for her to relate to me. She glances up at me, her hands fidgeting in her lap.
“I want to thank you again for being here,” she finally says. “Not only so that I can thank you again for what you did for me, but you’ve reminded me of a couple things. Important things.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Such as?”
Annie gets up from her chair and drops down next to me on the bed, something that puts me instantly at unease. What the fuck?
“You’ve reminded me that there are strong guys out there who know what the fuck I’m going through because you’re going through it too,” she says softly.
As she speaks, she slides her hand softly onto my arm. I freeze as I realize what is happening.
“I’ve also decided that everything happens for a reason,” she continues. “What are the odds that you would be there that day in the squad that rescued me and you would be here when I come to get help?” She pauses for a brief second. “The odds are slim to none, Gabe. I think I was meant to meet you. I really do. The question is… what are we going to do about it?”
Before I can think about what she’s doing, she’s leaned into me, pressing her lips softly to mine.
I am utterly frozen as she kisses me. I didn’t see this coming, I truly didn’t. I thought we were just commiserating about our issues.
Her hands come up and clutch my back and for a moment, one moment, I think about it. It would be so easy to slip away into that vague place where sex takes me, to that place where nothing matters anymore. It would be the easiest thing in the world. And I need someone. I need to be comforted by someone.
But she’s not the person I need.
I’ve already tried this road with Alex and it didn’t work.
I don’t want anyone else.
I grip Annie’s upper arms gently and push her away, looking into her eyes.
“Annie, you don’t want to do this,” I tell her firmly. “You don’t. You’re emotional because of this place. It’s OK, I’m sure it happens to everyone.”
She scowls at me, then she reaches for me again.
“No, it’s not this place. It’s you, Gabe. I just want you. You make me remember what I like about the world. You make everything make sense.”
After knowing me for a few days? I look at her questioningly as I hold her at arm’s length.
“Annie, think about what you’re saying. I can see where you would think that we have a connection because we both have the same shit going on. But think about that…we have the same shit going on. We’d be a train wreck. We each need someone outside of this mess, someone who can keep things in perspective for us… someone to give us a reason to pull out of this. I heard you telling one of your other friends about your boyfriend at lunch the other day. You need to tell him everything that you’ve told me.”
Annie starts crying now, big fat tears that roll down her cheeks in black streaks from her makeup. Fuck. I hate this shit. I never know what to do. I awkwardly pat at her back.
“Annie, don’t cry. Everything’s fine. It’s fine. This is just a misunderstanding.”
She continues to cry, then reaches for me, burying her head into my chest.
“I’m sorry,” she sniffs. “I’m sorry that I misunderstood and wrecked everything. I’m sorry.”
I pat at her again. “You didn’t wreck anything, Annie. It’s a misunderstanding. Our emotions are all jacked up in here. You don’t have anything to apologize for.”
She nods and sniffs and slips from the bed to the door.
“I’m sorry, Gabe,” she sniffles again before she leaves.
I am still shaking my head as I watch her go.
What the fuck was that?
As I calm down and gather my thoughts, I realize that as uncomfortable as that situation was, it did one thing for me.
Because when Annie looked at me, accepting all my flaws, overlooking them because she wanted to sleep with me, it made me realize why I’ve sought out women ever since the incident.
Their acceptance comforts me.
But it’s momentary.
Temporary.
For just a minute it soothes my guilt. I slip into oblivion, into a place where I’m not judged. They accept me for what I am. That’s why I sought out the prostitute in Kabul, that’s why I almost slept with Alex.
But I can’t do this anymore. I’ve accepted what I did to Ara Sahar. I’ve accepted why I did it. And because of that, I don’t need to seek out a substitute for that acceptance anymore.
I need the real thing.
Something permanent.
That’s huge.
Stunned, I sit with my shoulders slumped, my hands in my lap, just thinking about it. I tried to sleep with Maddy for the very same reason I slept with everyone else. But I fell in love with her instead.
And now she’s all I want.
I pick up the phone.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Madison
Another call beeps in as I try to figure out what Jacey is screaming about, but I don’t even look. All I can do is try to make sense of what she’s saying.
“Jacey, slow down. I can’t understand you,” I te
ll her quickly. “Take a breath.”
“OhmyGodMadison,” she shrieks. “OhmyGod… ohmyGod.”
She’s frantic and she won’t listen and it turns my hand clammy as I grip the phone.
“What is it?” I finally yell. “Jacey, what is going on?”
“It’s Tony,” she finally manages to say. “Jesus Christ. Maddy, you’ve got to come. We’re at that curve on your street. The one… the nasty one.”
The one where my parents died. My heart stops.
“Hurry up,” Jacey wails. “Just get here.”
I hear a siren, then I hear nothing.
I can’t even feel my fingers or think as I grab my purse and rush out the door. I don’t notice the drive. I don’t register the red lights or stop signs or anything else. I’m on autopilot as I drive, as I distance myself from my heart so I don’t feel so much of what is going on.
It’s nothing bad, I tell myself as I get closer. It’s nothing bad. He has a flat tire. He had a fender bender. He slid off the edge just like I did a few weeks ago. It’s nothing bad. He’s fine.
He’s fine.
He’s fine.
He has to be fine.
Nothing can be wrong with Tony, because he has to be fine. He holds my life together. He holds my family together and he holds the Hill together. He picks up my slack. He picked up my father’s slack for years. He became my father, in a way.
He’s fine.
But he’s not.
He’s not fine. I know it before I get there. I know it from the dead feeling in my heart. I know it as I pull up and see his truck, crumpled on the side of the road. I know it when I see the ambulance and the fire trucks and the grave looks on everyone’s faces. I know it when I see the stretcher, with the still form on it, covered up with a sheet. I know it when I see the tip of his boot sticking out from under the sheet.
He’s not fine.
And I’m not either.
My legs give out and I crumple to the ground. As I go down, I take in the rest of the scene. I see Jared in handcuffs, I see Jacey’s tear-streaked face rushing for me. I see EMTs lunging toward me.
And then I don’t see anything at all.
* * *
Gabriel
Maddy didn’t answer the phone.
I listen to it ring and ring, then her voice picks up on the voice mail. I listen to the entire message, savoring the sound of her voice, but when the beep comes, I can’t speak. She doesn’t want to talk to me. I won’t force her to listen to me.
With a sigh I head down to a group session, sitting on the opposite side of the room from Annie. She tries to catch my eye a few times, but I ignore it. I’m not mad at her, but I don’t want to deal with her right now. I’ve got enough to worry about without more drama.
Instead I focus on the paper in front of me. On answering this shit so that I can just go through it all in person in individual therapy tonight.
* * *
I wish you could’ve prevented that incident, too. But I’m hearing a definite turnaround in the way you’re speaking about it, Gabe. Instead of saying, “I should’ve stopped it,” you’re now saying, “I wish I could have stopped it.” Have you noticed that? How does it feel to realize that it was out of your hands?
How does it feel? Last night was the first night in a year that I didn’t have continuous nightmares.
After individual therapy last night, I crashed hard and when I woke up an hour ago, it took me a minute to realize why I felt so well rested.
Because I actually slept. It’s a fucking amazing feeling. I’d forgotten what that felt like.
I also realize that my therapist was right. I think I really have shifted the blame for what happened away from me. I mean, in my head I always knew it wasn’t my fault. But heads and hearts don’t always agree; and my heart was guilty as hell.
It’s not so guilty anymore.
Not about that, anyway.
Guilt about Maddy is still alive and well, though. But I know that can’t be resolved here. It can’t be resolved at all, not if she doesn’t want to talk to me. Sessions today don’t seem as grueling as normal, probably because I’m used to them now, but also because the end is in sight. I only have one more day, then I can leave tomorrow.
But then what?
What will I do then?
Do I have the balls to go back to Maddy, to try to explain? Because for the first time, I feel like I might really beat this. And if I can, I know that I’d never hurt her again…
But if she won’t even talk to me, then there’s no way in hell she’ll listen to me try to explain.
All I know is that the void I feel without her is huge. I hadn’t realized what a big part of my life she’d become until she suddenly wasn’t there anymore this week. And there’s no way that I want to continue like this. No fucking way.
I finish up my session and make my way back to my room, ignoring Annie’s voice calling for me down the hall.
I can’t deal with her right now.
I’m on the way to my laptop, to send Maddy another note, when my phone rings on the dresser.
Brand.
“Dude, I don’t want to interrupt your therapy, but there’s something you’ve got to know. When you leave in the morning, you’ve got to come back to Angel Bay.”
Before I can protest or argue, he continues, his voice grave.
“Tony, the bartender from the Hill, is dead.”
“What?” I ask, incredulously. “What happened?”
Brand sighs, long and loud. “Long story. But it involves Jacey.”
I swallow hard. “What happened?”
“She apparently went back to that little fuck Jared. I don’t know the details, but Tony went out to talk some sense into her and Jared ran him off the road. He died at the scene.”
Like Madison’s parents.
That’s the only thing I can think of for a minute.
“Is Jacey all right?” I ask calmly. “Was she there?”
“Yeah, she’s fine. And yes, she was there. She went with Jared to try to defuse the situation and she couldn’t stop him. She’s pretty shaken up, but she’s fine.”
“What about Jared?” My voice is wooden.
“In jail.”
Pause.
“And Maddy?”
Brand’s voice softens. “Jacey says that Maddy’s a wreck. She won’t even talk to Jacey right now. Apparently that guy was a like a father to her and she’s taking it hard. She was at the scene too. You need to come home, Gabe. I think she needs you. And I know Jacey does.”
“I’ll be there tomorrow,” I tell him. “Tell Jacey I’m coming.”
“And Maddy?”
“Don’t mention it to her.”
“But—”
“No buts,” I interrupt. “I’ll be there, Brand. Just tell Jacey.”
I hang up and stare at the wall.
This is going to kill Madison. I know she’s devastated. I know how much she loved Tony. She’s had to deal with so much loss in her life—including losing me.
This isn’t fucking fair.
But life isn’t fucking fair.
All I want to do is to grab my stuff and leave. To drive straight to Angel Bay and grab her up, and protect her from everything.
But I can’t protect her from this.
Tony’s dead and I can’t change that.
I hit the showers and pack my shit and then drop into bed, counting down the hours until I can check out of this place and head back to where I belong.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Madison
I’m at Tony and Maria’s house all day.
They didn’t have much money and what little they had was taken up by their daughter Sophia’s college tuition, so as I listen to them decide how they’re going to pay for the funeral, I speak up.
“I want to pay for it,” I tell them as I take in their family photos, photos that include me. Maria just stares at me in shock.
Tony’s been a part of my life for ye
ars.
He’s family.
This is the only thing I can do for him now.
The last thing.
“It’s what I want,” I assure Maria as she cries in gratitude. “He was like a father to me, Maria. Mila too. He was always there when we needed him the most. It’s the least I can do.” My voice breaks and a lump forms in my throat and I know from experience that it’s going to be weeks until I’m able to swallow it.
It’s hard to swallow when your throat is full of pain.
Even though I can hardly think through my shock and grief, I help Maria make decisions, because I know that everything I’m feeling is amplified a hundred times in her. And poor Sophia is curled up in a ball on her bed, unable to process anything.
I know how it feels. I feel like I’m walking around in a haze.
But there are decisions to make.
An urn.
Crematory arrangements.
Flowers.
Hymns.
An obituary.
All the things that a funeral needs, we have to decide on. I can’t even believe that I’m doing this again. First my parents… and now Tony. It’s just too much. And then Jacey calls right in the middle of it. Right when I’m overwhelmed with everything.
“Please, Maddy,” she begs tearfully. “I didn’t mean for this to happen. I loved Tony too. I had no idea that Jared was going to do that. I thought he was different. I thought he was changing.”
“Oh my God, shut up,” I snap at her as I walk onto the front porch. “I can’t even talk to you right now. Tony’s in the morgue because of your stupid decisions. I never knew that you needed acceptance so bad that you would grovel to a scumbag like Jared. But you did. And you do. And look what happened. This is your fault, Jacey. Your fault.”
I hang up on the middle of her sob and turn to find Maria staring at me, her dark eyes full of tears.
“It’s not that little girl’s fault,” she tells me gently, her dark hair blowing in the breeze. “She makes bad decisions, but she’s just young. This was Jared Markson’s fault—and no one else’s. Tony chose to go over there. He made that decision. You can’t hold Jacey accountable, Madison.”
If You Leave: The Beautifully Broken Series: Book 2 Page 26
