Silenced Memories

by Brittney Sahin

  She rubbed her hands against her thighs and gave him a slight nod. “As good as can be expected.” She sank into the cream, leather sofa. “How are you? How’s Julia? You saw her today, right?” She teased her tongue between her teeth before biting her lower lip.

  She was nervous. Was she nervous because of him?

  “Yeah, I just saw her.” He took a seat in the chair across from the sofa.

  “Does she know everything?” Her voice quivered a little with each word.

  He nodded and looked down at the ground, lacing his fingers together. “When are you planning to go back home?” There. He’d said it.

  She scooted back on the sofa a little and looked out the glass balcony door. “I’m not going back home. I’m going to rent a place in Boston. I can’t live in the same city as my father right now.”

  “What about here?” He wasn’t sure what his own question implied, but he had to ask.

  “Michael, I—I don’t know if we should see each other anymore. I don’t even know if you want to. Dustin forced us to be together for his own game, and now . . .”

  Her words barreled with full force at him. “Dustin is not why we were together. He didn’t manufacture my feelings for you.”

  “And what feelings might those be?” She lifted her brows and focused her blue-green eyes on him.

  If only I knew. “I care about you, Kate. I told you at the cabin that I wanted to give you more.”

  “And what does more mean?” She shut her eyes. “I’m sorry to do this right now, but after everything we’ve been through, I need to know where we stand. I need to know if I’m making the right decision.”

  “You mean the decision to leave Charlotte? To move to Boston?” He straightened in his chair.

  “I don’t know. I guess. I just found out I’ve been living a lie. Nothing seems real . . .” She smoothed a hand over her cheek. “And I just don’t understand this thing between us—whatever it is—and that worries me, too. The man who doesn’t do commitment, who was seeing someone else while sleeping with me . . . I just don’t know.”

  Trisha. Shit, not this again. “Look at me, Kate.”

  She opened her eyes.

  “The redhead, Trisha, she’s a friend, and that’s it. Nothing happened between us. Nothing would ever happen between us.” He could tell she needed more by the way she averted her eyes. “The day I was shot in Afghanistan, I lost a lot of friends,” he explained slowly, staring at a spot on the floor. “One of them was Eddie, and he left behind a wife. He was the only one of us who was married, and I promised myself I would look after her, always, for him.”

  He watched as Kate’s gaze shifted toward his, and fast. She stared at him, blinking a few times. “I visit her a few times a year when I can, in Charleston. I send her money. I do what I can to support her. September is a rough month for her, though, and for me. It’s the anniversary of the day he died. I guess her feelings for me got a little muddled, and she kissed me. I explained to her that I could never feel for her that way. She agreed—she was embarrassed, even. She just wanted to see me again to apologize.” He moved toward the couch and sat beside her. “I should have told you, but this stuff is hard for me to talk about.”

  She reached for his hand and held it. The gesture sent a jolt through his system. God, he cared about this woman—more than she could possibly understand. His body warmed at her touch, and he fought back the urge to take her in his arms and hold her—to promise her that everything would be all right. But he didn’t know the future. He didn’t know if he could promise her forever. He released her hand and stood up, moving toward the window.

  She rose from the couch and approached him, standing by his side.

  “What we have is real, but I don’t know how much of me there is left to give.”

  His words must have alarmed her because she took a step away.

  “Kate.” He reached out for her, but she slipped from his side. “I’m not too different from Dustin if you think about it. I’ve killed countless people. I’ve taken lives without hesitation when ordered. I would have killed Dustin if you hadn’t stopped me.”

  “You’re nothing like him.” Standing across the room from him now, she turned her back.

  He lowered his head and focused on the plush carpet beneath his shoes. He heard the distant sound of the radio playing from the nearby bedroom. It was Sam Smith’s song, “Stay with Me” –how perfect . . .

  The lyric “stay with me” sounded in his ears, giving him the chills. “I don’t know if I’m going back into the military, Kate. And as much as I care about you—I can’t let you be like Trisha.” He paused and tried to fight the pain that was slowly seeping inside him. “I can’t be Eddie. I can’t be off in the Middle East worrying about you. I can’t leave behind a woman I—”

  She shifted to face him, her eyes watery. “I’ve fallen in love with you, Michael. I’ve never truly felt this way before.” Her hands trembled. “Not until you. And I would support whatever decision you make about the military. I would stand by your side. You can trust me.”

  Her words hung in the air, and he tried to process her admission. It was too much.

  “But, I can’t try and turn you into something you’re not. I can’t ask you to give me more if you’re not ready. I’m going to leave tomorrow as planned.” Her voice quavered with every word, every syllable drawn out with clear pain.

  He watched as she tried to slip a mask over her face, to shield her emotions, but he knew better. He felt just as shredded, just as broken. “Kate—”

  “No, don’t. Don’t say anything.” She turned back away from him. “Please, just go.”

  He stared at her long blonde hair, dying to run his hands through it. He wanted to kiss her. To lose himself. To feel human.

  But it was pointless. He’d never be able to shake the pain of his memories away. He’d never be the man Kate deserved.

  He forced his feet toward the door.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Kate exited her brownstone apartment in Boston and took in a breath of the fresh air. It was a beautiful Monday morning in October. The temperature was hovering in the low fifties, but the blue sky made it feel warmer. The sun beat down on her shoulders as she walked down the tree lined street, loving the golden orange and red leaves that danced in the breeze.

  It had been a month since the day Michael had walked out of the hotel room. A month since she’d heard the sexy baritone of his voice.

  She had told him to leave. It was her own fault. She just never imagined his absence would hurt so much.

  Julia had called her like clockwork twice a week, although she never uttered Michael’s name. And neither did Kate. Instead, they spoke about daily details, made jokes, discussed business. Julia had told her she’d decided to put the next Maddox Gala on hold for a little while. Although she didn’t say as much, Julia was probably hoping that Kate would change her mind and host the New York event, as they’d originally planned. But Kate didn’t think she could do it. She had offered Julia the services of the New York office, which was certainly up to the task, but still Julia had hemmed and hawed.

  As she rounded the corner and the cafe came into view, she saw his tall, muscular frame. It was unmistakable.

  “You shaved your beard,” she teased.

  Connor rushed toward her and scooped her into his arms, hugging her. “So good to see you.” He set her down and pinched her cheek like she was his kid sister. “Glad we could meet up. When I heard from Julia you were living in Boston, I thought I’d give you a call. I just finished a job.”

  “Hopefully it wasn’t another kidnapping case,” she joked.

  “No, just a basic bodyguard assignment.” He motioned for her to have a seat at the nearby table. “I went ahead and ordered you a drink,” he said, sliding a latte across the table.

  “Thanks. So, how have you been?” She took a sip of her drink, warming her body.

  “Pretty good. How about you?”

  She
thought about how to answer his question. She wanted to ask him about Michael. She was desperate to know how he was doing, but she was too afraid to ask. Plus, she knew she would just set herself up for pain. “I’m just adjusting to my new life.” She rubbed her cheek. “I opened the paternity test a week ago. I was relieved to discover David is my father.” She exhaled after her admission. It was the first time that she’d said those words aloud.

  “Are you talking to him yet?”

  “No. I don’t think I’m ready for that. It’s a bit of a challenge to forgive him after what happened. I’ve seen my stepmom a few times, and she keeps trying to convince me to see him. But I need more time.” She cleared her throat and forced a smile on her lips. “Anyways, I think I’ll be staying in Boston for a while. I’m running my events company in Boston only. I gave up my position in New York and put my New York loft up for sale.”

  He smoothed a hand over his clean-shaven face. “And you’re happy here?”

  “I’ve been focused on putting together the Mayor’s Ball. Kind of crazy that I’m working with Erick Jensen on this whole thing, but it has helped keep me busy.”

  “You didn’t answer my question,” he responded with a firm voice. “I’m worried about you.”

  So am I. “I just don’t know if being an events planner is all that fulfilling anymore.” She shrugged. “Maybe I’ll quit altogether, someday. I sort of feel . . . adrift.”

  He studied her for a moment before responding. “I know the feeling. When my time was up in the military, I had no idea what I wanted to do with the rest of my life. My father wanted me to run his business, but that is definitely not what I wanted . . . I began to wonder why I hadn’t just stayed in the Marines. I probably should have.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “It’s honestly hard to explain what it’s like to be in the military, to be on a tour of duty and never know when or if your day is up. And to watch people die—to kill people. It’s hard for civilians to understand.” He clasped his large hands on the table. “But in the service, everyone gets it. We’ve all been through it, together.” He laughed as if shaking off his heavy comments. “If being in war doesn’t screw with your head, then you must have been pretty screwed up to begin with.”

  “Is it hard for you to be in a relationship? You know, because of your time in the Marines?” She leaned forward, wondering if Michael was the only one with the issue.

  He took a moment to drink his latte. “I think it is, for a lot of people,” he responded, without answering the question for himself.

  Connor had a wall up almost as high as Michael, she realized. She watched as his eyes narrowed in on a blonde in a short skirt walking by.

  He averted his attention back to Kate. “Uh, hmm. Sorry.” His lips curved into a smile. “I’m just not ready to settle down.”

  “Well, when you think you are, consider moving to Boston. It would be nice to have you here.”

  “Do you mind if I tell Michael that I saw you?”

  Oh God, he said it. His name.

  “Kate?” Connor waved his hand in front of her face.

  She refocused her attention on him, pulling herself from a Michael-induced daze.

  “I take that as a no?”

  ***

  Michael sat behind his desk and stared at the computer screen. The numbers were becoming blurry. He couldn’t focus. He glanced over at the time and realized that, if he didn’t leave soon, he would be late.

  He hurried out of the office. It was almost four o’clock, but he only needed to walk a few blocks.

  He arrived just a few minutes after four and apologized to the receptionist. He was always a prompt person, and he hated being late to anything.

  “He’s ready for you. You can go on in,” the receptionist said.

  He nodded and headed down the long hall and to the office. He knocked on the door and waited for a response before entering.

  The doctor rose from behind his desk and walked toward Michael to greet him. “Good to see you. Have a seat.” He walked back to his desk and grabbed a notepad before seating himself in front of Michael.

  Michael rubbed his palms against his gray slacks and waited for the doctor to speak.

  “So, this is your third week in therapy. Do you feel like you are making any progress?”

  “No,” he said flatly. “I still feel shitty.”

  “Because?”

  “Because I’m here—instead of with her.”

  “Kate?”

  Michael nodded and looked down at the floor.

  “Have you made your decision about rejoining the military yet?”

  He asked him this question every time he visited. And Michael’s response was always the same. “No.”

  “But you want to be with Kate?”

  “Yes.”

  “But you don’t know if you can be?”

  “Yes.” Michael knew the game. He knew the series of questions he would ask. He knew his answers before he was even asked.

  “Are you having the nightmares?”

  “Yes.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and shut his eyes. The dreams had been coming every night, but the nightmares were no longer about the day he almost died in Afghanistan.

  “Tell me about it.”

  He nodded, his eyes still shut. “I watch Dustin slit Kate’s throat. Powerless to stop it.”

  “Why do you think she dies in your dream?”

  He had answered this question before, too. “I don’t know.”

  The doctor usually moved on to another question, but this time, he pushed. “I want you to really think about it. You used to dream of watching a fellow Marine die in Afghanistan. Her throat was slit, and you couldn’t save her. Everything you dreamt about was true. Why do you think your mind is altering the reality of what actually happened?”

  “I just don’t know,” he responded, almost angry. Irritated.

  “You saved her life when you couldn’t save the Marine. But for some reason, I think that you’re afraid that if you love her, you’ll somehow kill her. You see yourself as the enemy.”

  Michael let the words sink in.

  “You should talk to her,” the doctor suggested. He had waited for Michael to speak for a few minutes but realized he had no intention to.

  “I can’t. It’s been seven weeks. She must hate me.” He leaned back in the chair and crossed his ankle over his knee.

  “Do you think the nightmares will stop once you see her?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Do you want Kate or do you want to be a Marine?”

  “They need me. People are dying.”

  “You’re only one man.”

  “The military is made up of men and women. If everyone thought like that, there’d be no military.” He rose to his feet, stuffed his hands in his pockets, and walked to the window.

  “Don’t you deserve happiness?”

  “No.”

  “What about Kate? Does she deserve it?”

  “Of course,” he was quick to respond. He kept his eyes trained on the view outside. The room felt like it was closing in on him. He was struggling to breathe.

  “What if you are her happy ending? What if you rob her of that?”

  “She’ll find someone else. Someone better. She deserves better than a murderer.”

  “So we’re back to that, huh?” The doctor set his notepad and pen on the coffee table in front of him and stood up. “Why do you call yourself a murderer?”

  “Because by definition, that is what I am.” He turned to face the doctor, his lips twitching with irritation.

  “So the military is made up of a bunch of murderers?” The doctor stood a few feet in front of him and crossed his arms.

  He was taller and more muscular than Michael would have expected. His gray hair was cut close to his head, and his face had grown hard. Michael noticed for the first time that he had callouses on his hands.

  “Am I a murderer?”

  “You wer
e in the military?” He could see it now—the edge to the man. He wasn’t sure how he’d missed it before.

  “Navy. Ten years. Served in Vietnam. Killed more people than I can remember. I tried to keep count like it would somehow make it okay, but eventually, there were just so many.” He shook his head. “But I’m not a murderer. I followed orders. I was in a war.”

  Michael bit his bottom lip, which triggered an image of Kate to flash into his mind. Beautiful and stunning Kate, biting her lip . . .

  “How many men have you saved? How many Marines are alive because of you?”

  Michael shrugged and looked away.

  “That may be a better number to count.” The doctor joined him at the window and looked down at the street.

  Michael let the words sink in, but his attention shifted to a woman exiting a limo on the street.

  A stunning blonde woman. Similar age. Same height. A dead ringer for Elizabeth, for Kate’s mother—for Kate.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Don’t be nervous. Everything will go as planned. Kate walked around the ballroom, apprehension building inside of her.

  The last three weeks had been a whirlwind of emotions as she prepared for the Boston Mayor’s Winter Ball. It had served as a well-needed distraction from Michael, though. She still couldn’t believe Michael never even gave her the courtesy of a call, after over two months of silence. But she knew in her heart that hearing his voice would only make things harder for her. It was probably for the best.

  For the last few weeks, she’d been spinning a story in her head, telling herself that she had only fallen for Michael because of the circumstances. She had simply been a character in a movie, falling for the rich playboy, going against everything she believed in because she had been in close quarters with him and was scared.

  That wasn’t love. Just context. True love and fairy tale endings were exactly that—fairy tales.

  Every day she told herself that story. And every day, she felt she was getting a little closer to believing it.

  Kate smoothed a hand over her sleek, white chiffon dress. The one-shoulder gown reached her ankles, but also gave her some breathing room with a long slit up the side leg.