Before There Was You

by Denise A. Agnew

  His brows lowered slightly with his frown. “Why?”

  “I have to start driving myself, Aaron. My independence is very important to me. That’s one thing that’s taken a shot in the ass since my kidnapping. The PTSD robbed me of my independence. I need to get back to where I was, not rely on other people to help me do everyday things like driving.” He still didn’t look convinced, so she continued. “I was fiercely independent before the kidnapping. I think the damage to my ego from depending on people so much has been as bad for me as the actual kidnapping.”

  Understanding cleared his frown. “I get it. You’re right.” A smile, small but truthful, curved his mouth. “I’d feel the same way.”

  “If I can drive Tuesday by myself, you won’t even have to wait up after therapy and talk to me.”

  “I liked that part.” His gaze took her in, warm and devouring. “Talking to you.”

  Attraction slid through her again, a sweet, slow feeling. “Thank you. I liked it too. You’ve already helped me so much.”

  “Don’t hesitate to ask for more help if you need it.”

  Grateful, she nodded. “Why are you so eager to help me and not Roxanne or someone else?”

  Their drinks came before he could answer and they gave their orders, but he didn’t forget the topic. “I like you, and I know you’re trying to get better. You’re sincere about wanting to wipe out your PTSD, just like I am. You know I’m attracted to you.”

  She looked down at the table. Oh, did she ever. The heat flashing over her skin proved it. “I’ve never had a man protect me the way you do, Aaron. It’s a strange feeling.”

  “Never?” He sounded skeptical. “Not even your father protected you?”

  “Not that I remember.”

  “A boyfriend? Your husband?”

  “No.”

  He quirked one eyebrow. “That’s a damn shame.” He drank a sip of his iced coffee. “You haven’t told anyone about what happened to you during the kidnapping, have you?”

  His change of subject startled her. “Some of it. The counselor I talked to…she knows.”

  “But you didn’t tell your parents.”

  She hadn’t. “How did you know?”

  “A lucky guess. I understand.”

  She glanced up from her water. “If anyone one would understand, it would be you.”

  “Sometimes it’s easier to pretend it all never happened,” he said quietly.

  “Your entire career, or the marine who shot himself?”

  Pain and a brutal kind of vulnerability flickered across his face. “Fillman.”

  She understood the helpless feeling all too well. They veered into everyday topics, and she found the change of pace refreshing. They might have a mutual attraction, but what if they had nothing in common? She quickly discovered they did have several things in common. Politics: moderate. Food: Italian was their favorite. Twenty-four hour news: hated it. Movies: Sci-Fi. Reading: Sci-Fi.

  They went silent when their food came, and she mulled over a good topic of conversation.

  She put her hand to her mouth when she realized she hadn’t asked him about his father. “Oh, my God. How rude. I forgot to ask how your father is. Where’s my brain?”

  His expression held amusement. “It’s okay. I’ve done that too many times to count lately. I feel like I’ve totally lost my brain somewhere and can’t find it.”

  She put down her fork and ignored her penne pasta for the moment. “How is he?”

  “When I talked to Mom this morning, she said he feels really good. They did tests and confirmed he has an ulcer. He’s got orders from the doc to take several days off, and later on this week he has to see a gastroenterologist.”

  “Oh joy. Poor guy.”

  Aaron grinned. “He’s going to hate every minute of it, but I can’t blame him. Mom will keep him on the straight and narrow. He’s been complaining about heartburn for a long time, and she’s been nagging him to see the doctor. I think he’s blown off going just because she was nagging him.”

  “Your parents get along otherwise?”

  “They do. They’re really still in love.”

  “I’m jealous.” She gave Aaron a half-embarrassed smile. “I don’t think my parents ever loved each other.”

  He chewed a bite of lasagna and swallowed fast. “Really?”

  “I never see them kiss, no hugs. Nothing. You’d think they’d show some affection, even though they’ve been married for a gazillion years.”

  “You would think. My parents are pretty affectionate.”

  She started eating again. “Like I said, I’m jealous. Mom nags a lot, and Dad never listens.”

  “I take it your relationship with your parents isn’t in a good place right now,” he said.

  “No.” She hated talking about her parents. “I’ve managed to whittle my mother down to only calling me once or twice a week, though. She was calling me every day.”

  “She was concerned.”

  “Yes, but…”

  “But?”

  Lana hadn’t told many people the story, but it occurred to her that she understood the shooting Aaron had witnessed more thoroughly than he realized. “My mother witnessed a horrible shooting twenty years ago at the high school where she worked. It’s changed her. Made her more cautious and afraid of everything.”

  Aaron met her gaze, his eyes sympathetic. “Oh, hell. What happened?”

  She sighed and sipped her water. “She was a high school secretary for a short time. Most of my life she’s been a homemaker, and the thing that happened that day at the high school…she vowed to never work outside of the home again.”

  When he finished chewing a bite of his meal, Aaron said, “So that’s why she’s cautious…why she smothered you? Still does?”

  “I think you’re right. Anyway, she heard this loud bang and it sounded like gunfire to her. Then she heard another shot. She got down behind her desk and so did several other people. A guy had walked in the front door with a pistol and shot the principal, who was his ex-wife, and then shot himself.”

  Aaron winced. “That’s horrible.”

  “It was. She was traumatized, but her way of handling her trauma was to hole up in our house most of the time. She’s never sought counseling. She was overprotective to start with, but after the shooting, she got worse.”

  He leaned forward slightly. “Let me guess, when you wanted to go on the trip to Costa Rica, she freaked.”

  “Good guess. She was worried the whole time something would happen. When it did…” She shrugged and popped a forkful of pasta into her mouth, chewed, and swallowed. “The rest is history. She’s told me numerous times that if I’d just listened to her, the kidnapping wouldn’t have happened.”

  Aaron’s eyes widened. “She blames you for the kidnapping?”

  “She said I don’t have a good sense of danger and when I shouldn’t do something.”

  “You’re kidding? You don’t believe that?”

  “I couldn’t be any more cautious without being completely paranoid.”

  He stopped eating and stared at her. “So you really can’t rely on your parents for help with the PTSD, can you?”

  “No. Not at all.”

  “You’re incredibly strong, you know that?”

  Heat flooded her face. “I don’t know about that.”

  “You know you can tell me about the kidnapping, right? Any time you want.”

  She hadn’t expected him to say that. “I don’t know. Maybe I should leave that for group therapy.”

  “You can trust me.”

  “I know. I need to take things one step at a time. Like driving myself to therapy Tuesday night. That’s a huge step.”

  “Of course. But the invite is always open.”

  “I appreciate that.”

  They talked about general things again for a long time until she decided to turn the conversation in a different direction. “You’re in good health for a retired marine, right?”

&nbs
p; “Except for screwed up mental health, I’m good to go.”

  Oh, yeah. She could tell, even through his clothes, that the man had muscles to die for. “You’ll be invincible when the old mental health is back where it should be, right?”

  “I don’t know about invincible, but I’ll feel more competent.”

  “You still have no idea what you want to do? You still want to get your Master’s?”

  “Yeah. Considering that I planned to start this fall, I should’ve gotten off my ass by now. I’m thinking it’ll be next spring instead. I need to clear my head before I try school.”

  “Do you still doubt there’s anything wrong? Do you still think the group therapy is garbage?”

  He shoved his plate aside. “No.” He lifted one eyebrow. “I’m skeptical, I’ll admit, but I’m willing to take it through to the end. What choice do I have?”

  They left soon afterward, and he walked Lana to her car.

  When she unlocked the car, he leaned on the hood of the Subaru. “Do you mind if I follow you home? Just to make sure Magnus doesn’t get any more stupid ideas?”

  “I don’t mind you following me home.”

  When she reached her apartment complex, he pulled up next to her and walked her to the door.

  “Aren’t you the protective gentleman?” she asked as she unlocked her apartment.

  “Sue me.” His words were hard, but the smile softened it.

  “No, I appreciate it. I hope your Dad feels better soon, and I’ll see you Tuesday.”

  As he turned to go down the stairs, he said, “Call me if you change your mind and want a ride Tuesday. See you then.”

  When she entered the apartment, she regretted one thing about today. She wished he’d kissed her again.

  * * * *

  Aaron sat in the chair near the long, sectional couch at his parent’s living room later that afternoon. He sank deep into the stuffing, his mind running in a hundred different directions. The television was on to a golf game—Aaron didn’t have much interest in golf, but his Dad loved to play.

  Aaron’s father lay on the couch, tucked in with a glass of water and orders from the doctor to stay off his feet and rest. Mom had gone upstairs to lie down. She hadn’t slept much lately. Aaron said he’d stay in case Dad needed something.

  “You seem distracted,” Dad said.

  Aaron glanced over at his father. “It’s been a crazy weekend. You getting sick threw things off, for sure.”

  Dad’s eyebrows lifted. “Well, excuse me.”

  “I don’t mean it like that.”

  Dad looked doubtful. “Are you sure?”

  “You scared the crap out of all of us, Dad. That’s what I mean. Mom’s still worried. I’ve never seen her that afraid before.”

  A strange expression came over Dad’s face. “Scared the hell out of me too.”

  Wow. Dad never admitted to fear. Not in front of Aaron, anyway. “I’m glad it wasn’t worse.”

  Dad nodded. “Me too. Your mom is going to nag me to death, though.”

  Even though Aaron knew the answer, he asked anyway, “About what?”

  “Working too many hours. I have some vacation time, and she wants us to take it. Two weeks.” He winced. “Can you imagine?”

  Aaron laughed. “Two weeks is all? When is the last time you took vacation?”

  Dad wrinkled his face into a half grimace. “I’ve got four weeks’ vacation. The company told me to take at least a week of sick leave, and your mother made me ask about two weeks of vacation now.”

  “And?”

  “My supervisor said yes. The vacation won’t come until next month. We’re planning a trip to Estes Park.”

  Aaron couldn’t help the grin. “Good. You deserve it.”

  Dad inhaled slowly. “I guess this was a wake-up call for me.”

  “So you admit Mom was right? You’re pushing yourself too hard.”

  Dad hated admitting he was wrong about anything, and Aaron half expected a negative answer.

  “I need to make some adjustments in how long I work each day.” Dad made a snorting noise. “Your mom suggested I try some meditation or some crap like that.”

  A long time ago Aaron would have agreed with his father. Not so much now. “Meditation isn’t crap. I’ve tried it myself.”

  Dad sat up straighter. “You’re kidding?”

  “I’ve been doing it off and on for about ten years. I saw it help some other marines I used to work with, and I tried it.”

  “Marines? As in plural?”

  “Yeah, yeah. I know it seems like bullshit, but it helped me during the war.” An epiphany came to Aaron. “I stopped doing it when I retired.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know. I shouldn’t have. I’m going to restart. Maybe it’ll help me get my shit together.”

  “You think pills are going to solve your issues, Aaron?”

  Aaron felt a little defensive, but he reined in the temptation to argue with Dad. “Hell, no. But it can’t hurt.”

  “Maybe your mother needs to try meditation. She’s going to wear herself out taking care of me.”

  Aaron made a decision there and then. “I’ll come over every day until you’re on your feet. I’ll cook, clean, whatever you guys need.”

  “I don’t think we’ll need all that help.”

  “Okay, but I can stop by every day and see if she’s running herself into the ground, right?”

  Dad hit the mute button on the television. “Sure. She’ll probably resist the help, though.”

  “Just like you do? You’re two of the most independent people I know.”

  Dad smiled, and this time it was genuine. “And you’re a chip off the old block, son. All you kids are.”

  Dad’s smile faded, and Aaron wondered if he was remembering Craig. Aaron was. Craig had worked too hard, too long.

  “Okay, so I’m independent,” Aaron finally said. “Doesn’t mean you guys don’t ever need help. I’ll be over every day and make sure Mom doesn’t do too much. I’ll help cook tonight.”

  Dad looked pleased, his eyes sparkling with humor. “Thanks, Aaron.”

  “Anytime.”

  “Are you two conspiring against me?” Mom said as she came down the stairs.

  “Damn, caught again,” Aaron said.

  “How much did you hear?” Dad asked.

  Mom settled down on the opposite end of the couch beyond Dad’s feet. “Enough. Aaron, I don’t need your help around the house.”

  Aaron took a deep breath and released it slowly. “Okay, even if you don’t need it, maybe I do. Put me to work.”

  Mom seemed to contemplate his request. “Dad can’t have spicy food or too much food.”

  Aaron held his hand up. “Awesome. That means I can make eggs. How hard is that?”

  “That all they teach you in the marines, boy?” Dad asked.

  “You have no idea.” Aaron tossed his parents a wink.

  “I don’t think I want to know,” Mom said.

  Dad chuckled. “Too much secret squirrel stuff.”

  Aaron groaned. “Nah, you can look a lot of it up online.”

  All three of them laughed, and the warm sound healed a small piece of Aaron he didn’t even realize had been cracked until then.

  Chapter 10

  Lana wiped her sweaty right palm on her jean-clad thigh as she crept along on I-25 Tuesday evening. Traffic had once again slowed to a crawl. She glanced at the dashboard clock and estimated at this rate she’d be late to group therapy. She could have taken a back road and made it on time. Traffic at this time of night, during rush hour, could prove murder on the overstuffed interstate that wound through part of Colorado Springs. She couldn’t see if an accident had jammed things up, but cars barely moved. She’d forgotten the commute she used to make to the high school for work.

  You’re soft.

  Maybe. Even if she wasn’t having mental issues, she’d still want to teach students online now that she’d tried it.


  She glanced at the dashboard clock yet again. Yep. Who knew how long this mess would take to clear up? She made a command decision to take the nearest exit and wind her way through town. It had to be faster than this. She wiped her left palm on her jeans again and drew in some deep breaths. She could control this weird feeling. She could.

  Still, she didn’t like this impending sense of doom that started rattling her cage as soon as the traffic slowed. She hadn’t tried driving since meeting up with Aaron at the Italian restaurant and wished now she had.

  Stubborn pride built inside her. She’d be damned if she relied on Aaron or anyone else for a ride again as long as she had a car to drive. Frustration brought tears to her eyes. She forced them back. She couldn’t see to drive if she didn’t control herself. The thought of getting off the road and parking somewhere, calling Aaron and surrendering to the shit crowding her head…yeah, she thought about it. Aaron would come for her. She had a feeling nothing would stop him from coming for her.

  “I fucking hate this,” she almost growled the words. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. Shit. Hell. Damn it.”

  As a rule she didn’t curse much, unless she was alone and driving. Then all bets were off.

  Group therapy should be starting right about now. Aaron and the rest of the group would notice she hadn’t turned up, obviously.

  Maybe she should call Aaron, but her anger at herself for not leaving her apartment earlier and for allowing the panic to creep up kept her hand off the cell phone. Seconds later it rang. Since the car barely inched along, she reached into her purse and snatched the phone. She glanced at the screen.

  “Aaron,” she said in relief when his name flashed. She answered. “Hey, Aaron.”

  “Hey.” His voice was soothing and deep. “You okay? Where are you?”

  “I’m glad you called. I was just about to call you. I’m stuck in a horrible jam on I-25.”

  “Yeah, Roxanne said there’s a three-car pile-up around the exit for Highway 24.”

  “That far south? Damn. I didn’t leave early enough and then the traffic just came to a crawl.”

  “How are you doing? Feeling okay?”

  “Not really.” She hated admitting it.

  “Did you take deep breaths?”

  “Yes.”