“But you really like her, don’t you?” Jacey asks knowingly. “I told you a long time ago that you were perfect for each other.”
I sigh. “I do like her. And she’s been through a lot already. She doesn’t deserve my shit. But I’m selfish enough to not want to leave just yet either.”
Jacey pushes her plate away and stares at me over it, her arms crossed and a serious expression pasted on her face.
“Gabriel Joseph Vincent. Do you think you don’t deserve something good in your life? Do you think that whatever happened overseas is so bad that you shouldn’t ever be happy again? Because again, that’s dumbass. You deserve happiness more than anyone I know. In fact, you deserve it more. Listen to me. You need to tell Maddy the truth. Just lay it out there. Let her decide for herself if you’re worth it. You owe it to yourself and to her.”
I nod, wiping my mouth and tossing the napkin in the plate.
“OK,” I exhale. “Maybe you’re right.”
“I’m definitely right,” she answers. “And for once it feels good to lecture you, instead of you lecturing me.”
I roll my eyes, we pay the check and then walk out to our cars.
“Seriously, bro. She’s worth it. She really is. She’s tough and prickly on the outside, but she’s got a heart of freaking gold.”
I think back to yesterday, to standing in front of that bonfire watching her bad memories burn, and the vulnerable look on her face.
She’s tough and prickly on the outside but she’s fragile as hell on the inside.
And that’s the part of her that I’m afraid of.
“Thanks for the advice, Sis.” I kiss her on the forehead. “I’ll be home later.”
“And if you’re not, don’t worry about it,” she answers. “We haven’t seen Jared in a while. I think he’s done messing with me now.”
“We can hope,” I answer as I climb back into my car. Before I start it up, I send Maddy a text.
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 shou
ld 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.
“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
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