She couldn’t help but smile broadly. “This is wonderful. Feels like old times.”
“I’m glad.”
His voice was mild, but it lacked the familiar spark she was used to hearing from him.
“Something wrong?” she asked as they grew closer to the park.
“No.”
“I don’t believe you.”
He made a half-choking sound. “The longer I know you, the more exasperating you get.”
She sighed. “This is the real me, Aaron. The real me before the kidnapping. Let’s just say I’m finding my footing slowly but surely. I wasn’t a shrinking violet before Costa Rica. I was just put in a shell for a while. I’m breaking out.”
This time when she tossed a glance at him, a big smile came out of him.
“Yeah, I can see that,” he said.
On a roll, she switched to a southern accent. Which southern accent, she didn’t know. “Do you like women who are quiet and sit around agreeing with everything their man says? Can I bake you a pie, mister?”
He laughed, a warm and from the belly sound. “Hell, no. I like a woman who speaks her mind but…”
She made the turn into the park. “But?”
“It has nothing to do with you. My brain is just scrambled today. I haven’t slept well the last three nights.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah.”
“Can I ask why?”
“You can, but I won’t answer.”
Frustration bit at her, but she took a deep breath. As she slid into a parking space, she noted the entire park looked deserted. “Good, we’ll have the place to ourselves.”
When she opened the door, he asked, “Where are you going?”
“I love it when the weather is like this. I like the cool air in my lungs. I’m walking to that gazebo over there. Looks like a nice place to sit.”
They got out of the car, and she locked it. They started the short walk down a dirt path between small trees and well-manicured grass. The picnic table under the gazebo was mostly dry, and she picked a place to sit. Aaron chose to lean against the latticework railing across from her. She drew in the damp air and savored it. She’d worn a windbreaker over a T-shirt and jeans. Aaron had on a long-sleeved polo shirt and jeans. It couldn’t be more than sixty out, but the humidity made it feel cooler.
“This feels good.” She closed her eyes and enjoyed the damp air on her skin. She unzipped the wind breaker.
He cleared his throat, and she looked at him. That devouring gaze was back in his eyes, and it started a familiar humming in her body. A sweet, stirring desire to know more of him both physically and mentally.
“What do you think of our little therapy group so far?” she asked.
“Interesting.”
“Is that good or bad?”
“It’s just interesting. We’ve got a mix of people in there who want to get better. People like Elliot and Richard, yourself. Then we have Roxanne and Magnus. They’re a piece of work.”
“I’d agree with that. What about you? Where do you fall in the group?”
“Good question. Somewhere in between I guess.”
That piqued her interest. She knew her next statement would challenge him. “I wouldn’t say you don’t want to get better. Maybe you still don’t believe you need the help.”
He scratched his head. “I don’t know.
“Do you sometimes feel as if you don’t know where to start? As if whatever is going on with you is so complicated there’s no way to understand it? Ever?”
His eyes pinpointed her intently. “I’ve never heard anyone describe it like that before, but yeah. Exactly like that.”
“Do you get depressed about it?”
“I don’t know if I’d call it depressed. Discouraged maybe. I want things to go back the way they were before. I used to shrug off deployments, to recover physically and mentally very fast. Prior to retirement, on my last deployment…well, it didn’t work that way.”
“Where was your last deployment?”
He turned away from her to cup the railing with both hands and look out over the green, but she could still hear his voice. “Camp Constitution, Afghanistan. Stuff happened. More intense and worse than any other deployment I had as Force Recon.”
“Tell me more.”
He turned back to her. He stuffed his hands in jeans pockets. “I don’t know where to start.”
“Start anywhere.”
“I’ve had the same nightmare two nights in a row.” His voice was a quiet, deep sound. “That’s what makes it hard to sleep.”
“Oh, no.” What did she say to that? She was gratified and surprised he’d told her. “Do you remember it? The details?”
His gaze turned bleak. “Yeah.”
He looked into the foggy distance as she wondered what horrible images formed in his mind.
She’d take a chance and ask once more. “Do you want to talk about it?”
He closed his eyes for a few seconds, and then returned his attention to her. “Yeah, but I don’t know if I can.”
“Maybe it’ll be easier to tell me than in group therapy.”
“I know it would be easier to tell you.”
She waited. And waited.
He said, “I haven’t had the dream in a long time. Weeks. So I was surprised that I had it Thursday night and Friday night.”
“Maybe the group therapy is bringing it up. Did the dream make sense to you?”
“Yeah. It’s not freaky or unrealistic like most dreams. It’s the real deal.”
“Real deal?”
“What happens in the dream occurred in Afghanistan. We were at Camp Constitution. This one guy, Sergeant Fillman, was a totally with-it marine. Someone I would have trusted with my life. One day he came at me with a weapon.”
Cold goose bumps skittered over her body. Her stomach sank. “Oh, God.”
“I was outside, we’d just gotten back from this royally fucked up—” He glanced at her. “Sorry.”
“Don’t worry. Remember, I said I don’t care about cursing.”
“Okay, then. This royal clusterfuck, asshole of a recon. But we survived it. We killed several insurgents and none of us got hurt.”
“So why was it a fucked-up, asshole of a recon?”
“Because if a Force Recon unit has to engage the enemy, we consider it a failure in a way. We pride ourselves on stealth.” He rubbed one hand over his face. “It’s a long story, but things didn’t go as they should have. I considered it a personal failure.”
“You can’t control everything.”
He smiled, but there was no humor in it. “Still a failure in terms of mission.” She nodded and waited for him to continue. “Fillman was a good guy. A few years younger than me, tougher than hell. Everyone considered him a stable, reliable marine. Anyway, he walked toward me with this look on his face…the only way I can describe it is pure depression. Sadness so thick you can taste it.”
He paused, and the suspense tied her in knots. She had to know. “And?”
“He lifted his weapon and pointed it right at me. I froze. Everybody froze. Right that minute I knew I was dead. The enemy wasn’t going to take me out, but a marine. I freaking couldn’t move and couldn’t speak.”
She thought of the moments where she’d been in the dark hut, the prison where they’d kept her two weeks in Costa Rica. “I know the feeling.”
He returned his gaze to hers. “Do you?”
“Not combat obviously, but…” She held her hands up. “Sorry. This isn’t about me. Go on.”
He nodded. “Everything happened fast, but I swear it felt like things were moving in slow motion. I thought of my sisters, my parents. Friends. My entire almost-twenty years in the marines would end with being murdered by a marine. I didn’t know why. What had I done to warrant this guy wanting to cap me?”
The chills racked her again, and she rubbed her arms.
He continued. “The next second he put the gun to his temple and blew hi
s brains out.”
Bile rose to her throat as she realized if Fillman had chosen a different path, this amazing man standing in front of her wouldn’t be here. Tears surged to her eyes as she put one hand to her chest. “Aaron. That’s…oh, my God, that’s terrible.”
He didn’t speak, his gaze glued to the gazebo floor. She almost felt the waves of pain coming off of him.
“Aaron, why did he do it? Why did he point at you and why did he kill himself?”
“Your guess is as good as everyone else’s. It was the most screwy, unbelievable thing I’ve witnessed. Ever. There was an investigation and it led to nothing. He didn’t have a girlfriend, his parents were dead, he had no other family to mourn him. It sucked. Sucked bigger and harder than anything the marines had thrown at me before because I couldn’t figure it out.”
“Had he been in the marines a long time?”
“Yes.”
“He’d seen a lot of action?” she asked.
“Yes.”
There it was. “Perhaps that’s why you dream about it. Because in your mind, there has to be a reason for what he did, and you still want to know why. It haunts you.”
His gaze returned to hers, filled with hurt and paradoxically a new understanding. “You could be right.”
“Have you told this story to anyone before?”
“People in the marines know. The story got around. It isn’t a secret.”
“But did you tell VA counselors?”
“Yes. It was also what my lawyer told the judge.”
“And that’s why he decided it was therapy and not jail.”
“Yep.”
“I think that was a good call on his part.”
“Was it?” he asked.
She stood and walked toward him slowly, but she came to a halt quickly. “How would jail have helped you? Other than making you miserable and punishing you. You’re not a criminal.”
“Yeah, I am. I assaulted a guy.”
“So you think you should have been tossed in jail? Do you think that would have solved your problems?”
“I’m not sure group therapy is going to fix me.”
Exasperation made her say, “It almost sounds like you want to be punished.”
One corner of his mouth quirked up. “Maybe I should be. Fillman killed himself. He needed help and no one knew it. We failed.”
“We?”
“The Marine Corps. The military. Everyone. There are men and women out there dying right and left because they can’t handle what happened to them in war.”
“People are better at trying to help vets than in the past.”
“I get that. Doesn’t mean what we’ve done works well enough.”
“All we can do is try, Aaron. Nothing is perfect.”
He smiled ruefully. “You know what, you’re too damned smart.”
“Is that a compliment?”
“Yes.”
She felt the heat rising in her face and switched gears. “You think that one incident brought you to where you are today?”
“It was the only thing I could think of that maybe fucked me up this badly.”
She tilted her head to the side, her thoughts running full speed. “Do you really think you’re messed up? I mean, you seem like you’re doing fairly well in life.”
“Fairly well isn’t good enough.”
“You’re going to be stubborn about this, aren’t you?” she asked with a smile.
He returned her grin. “Yeah. Stubborn is one of my good qualities.”
A need arose inside her to comfort him. She walked closer to him. “Thank you for trusting me with the dream. It’s an honor.”
He looked down on her. “You’re the first person I’ve ever told about the nightmares.”
His revelation made her feel special, and despite the sadness she felt coming off of him, she savored the moment of trust.
“The first night I had the nightmare, I almost called you. But it was late,” he said.
“It would have been okay. If you have the nightmare again, call me. Anytime.”
“Deal. Now I’ve told you one of my secrets, it’s time for you to tell me one of yours.”
Oh. Well. Could she do that? “I don’t…” She turned away and went back to her seat.
He planted his hands on his hips. “Fair play. I showed you mine, you show me yours.”
She clasped her arms around her body, suddenly cold in the drifting mist. The sounds of the city, a horn honking, and cars going past on the road nearby, faded away.
“Like you, I’m not sure where to start,” she said.
“Tell me one small detail. That’s all.”
She could do that. She took a shuddering breath. Thinking of the day she’d been kidnapped and every day after took effort. “I’ve sort of pushed much of it to the side. I can’t live in the past.”
“Doesn’t matter if that’s what you want. Shit keeps floating to the top, doesn’t it?”
His blunt way of speaking would have put off a lot of women, but she found it refreshing. He might hide a lot, but most of him was real and up front.
“Aaron, that doesn’t mean I have to concentrate on what’s wrong. I’d rather concentrate on what’s right.”
“I’ll give you that. Addy seems to have let you off the hook. Both of us. We haven’t said much about our real experiences yet in the group.”
She shivered. “She has let us off the hook so far, but the day of reckoning will come.”
His eyes narrowed. “So you’re all about other people revealing their soft spot, but not your own?”
Shame spiked inside her. “I don’t think that’s it.” She felt defensive. “Without sounding like the woman in my online group, I feel like I am screwed up more than you are. I don’t know what incident to talk about.”
“Start anywhere.”
She stood up and walked across the gazebo, and then turned around to look at him. “There’s too much. I have trouble driving, nightmares, palpitations, irrational fears, mistrust. How is your PTSD influencing you other than punching people out?”
He walked slowly toward her, a big, impressive man. Her breath felt short, but not because she was afraid. Because he made her feel things she didn’t wish to feel. Attraction, sexual arousal, the whole ball of wax. Most of all, she admired him far more than she should for such a short acquaintance and that worried her.
He stopped, close but not too close. “I’m a friggin’ mess.”
“How?”
“Half the time I want to stay in bed and read. I don’t want to go anywhere or be with anybody. I don’t want to engage with the world. Noises are sometimes too loud. Certain noises make me want to take cover. I lack motivation and drive.”
She smiled. “I don’t know whether to be comforted or not. That’s the way I am. I used to take long walks in my neighborhood. I got a treadmill instead. I’m afraid there’s a bogeyman around every corner. I hate that I’m constrained by my own mind. My own brain is stifling me.”
He moved closer, and she drew in a deep breath. Being this near him drove her nuts. He smelled so good—a mix of musk and man that didn’t shout but subtly teased.
“See? We’re both a mess,” he said.
“You seem pretty together most of the time. Are you going to share what you told me with the group?”
“I don’t know.”
“You’ll have to share more than you have, or Addy won’t sign off on the paperwork that says you’re good to go.”
“I know.”
If she said the right thing, the right way, she might get through to him. “Is there a particular reason you don’t want to share this with the group? Is it too embarrassing?”
A thoughtful look came into his eyes. “In a way, yes. I’ve made it through all these things, all this war, and yet suddenly I can’t run my own life when I’m not in a war. It’s lame.”
She shook her head. “No, it’s not. What you described to me, let alone anything else that happened i
n your career, would scar anyone. If you let people like Roxanne and Magnus keep you from talking about it, then they win. Show them how brave you really are by telling the truth and what happened to you.”
Irritation flashed over his face. “I don’t give a crap what Magnus, Roxanne, or anyone else thinks about me.”
She shrugged. “Well…of course. I think it’s good you don’t care so much about their opinion. But if that’s really true, then why can’t you just be honest with the group and talk? I’m not liking it, either, but at some point I’ll have to tell them everything.”
He stayed silent, but she could almost see the wheels spinning in his mind. Finally he answered. “I don’t know. That’s another mystery.” He smiled. “Damn, woman. You’re not only beautiful, you’re a genius.”
Once more heat filled her face. “Stop. Besides, you already said that.”
“I’m telling the truth now too. You’re smart and beautiful. That’s how I see you.”
She looked at the ground a minute, flattered more than she wanted to be. “Well, thank you.” She touched his shoulder as a wave of concern came over her. “Make me a promise?”
“If I can.” His voice was soft.
“Whatever you do, don’t give up.”
“What do you mean?”
A fear rose to the surface inside her. “If you ever feel bad…so bad you might want to do something to yourself, please call me.”
His brows lowered, and he shifted even closer. “I have no plans to off myself like Fillman did. I understand some people get to that point and they aren’t thinking right anymore. They just can’t see their way out. I get that. But I’d never hurt my family like that. It would kill them.”
“Good.” Relief snaked through her, and she allowed her hand to drop from his shoulder. “I just…”
Before There Was You Page 12
