by Lush, Tamara
"Leo? Leo!" I rushed to him, then stopped. His eyes were shining in the moonlight, but looked vacant. Distant. Spooky. And he didn't acknowledge my presence.
"Oh my God, I think you're sleepwalking," I whispered mostly to myself.
What could I do? I'd read somewhere you weren't supposed to wake a sleepwalker. Was that a myth? I wasn't sure and didn't want to test it.
Leo muttered a few words, and I watched in horror and confusion. Most of what he said was unintelligible, but some made it clear he was talking about Afghanistan. He muttered something about the desert and dry heat. Then he repeated one phrase.
"I'm sorry."
Kneeling before him, I uttered his name in a soft whisper. Repeated it several times, then touched his thigh. He stopped talking and moved forward, resting his forehead on my shoulder. I embraced his broad body as if he were fragile, and I thought that maybe, just maybe, he was waking up from his dream.
I caressed his back and found his T-shirt soaked through with sweat. Blinking away tears, I wondered if this was what he'd wanted to keep from me. Was he embarrassed? He seemed so damaged. All of this had to be from his PTSD. From serving his country. From trying to be a man and then being yelled at by me for abandoning me when we were teens.
I fought back a sob. "Leo, baby, we need to get you some help."
He wrenched himself from my arms. His eyes were wild and feral, and he reared back, panting. "What? Who—? Jessica! Where—?"
"It's okay." I gently put my hands on his arms and repeated myself several times, almost as if I were the one who needed convincing. "Just breathe. Slow."
"Jess." His voice broke. "It's not okay."
He scrambled to his feet and walked toward the ocean, and I followed.
"It will. It'll be okay. It's okay now." I realized I was barraging him with words, but I didn't care. All I wanted was my Leo back.
He turned to me, and I saw a single tear slide down his face.
"It's not," he said. "I haven't told you everything."
Chapter 40
A Team
LEO
By the time I was finished explaining to Jessica the extent of my PTSD, about the night terrors and the recruitment center arson, it was three in the morning. We sat on the sand next to the sculpture of the mermaid, cross-legged and facing each other. The ocean air was thick with the smell of salt water and sadness.
Jessica pushed out a breath. "I didn't know people could sleep-drive," she said.
"Yeah, it happens sometimes when people take certain sleeping pills. I took one last night, hoping to be able to drift off. Now I'm here. It happened to me a few times before the fire in New Orleans. Once I found myself in the backyard of my dad's home, about to walk into the pool. That was scary as shit." I shifted toward the ocean and stretched my legs out straight.
"But how are you certain you set that fire? Let's go over the evidence again."
She was trying to bargain with the facts, just like I had for a few weeks now. It was time to move toward acceptance.
"I don't have to. I'm sure they have my DNA on the T-shirt. I need to do the honorable thing and turn myself in. The paper said an arrest was imminent. Which means they know it's me. I thought I could run away. But I can't do that. Can't have that on my conscience. I'm going back tomorrow. Well…today. I've made up my mind. I've gotta turn myself in."
Without saying a word, she scooted so she was sitting in my lap, straddling me and sinking onto my thighs. She wrapped her legs and arms around me and held tight. "I love you. I'm going with you."
"What? Jess, no."
"Yep. I am. I've seen what happens when you abandon the person you love. It never works out."
I scowled. "I'm sorry for not telling you the truth. I'm sorry for—"
"Stop. It's insignificant now. Let's go back to my place. We're going to try to sleep for a few hours, then we'll put breakfast on for the guests and ask Nicole to take over for as long as possible. I think she'll understand. She'll have to. Then we'll get on the road."
She pulled back and traced my eyebrows with her fingertips, but I couldn't return her gaze.
"Hey," she whispered. "Open your eyes."
I did and reluctantly met her gaze. Even though her eyes were puffy from crying, the moonlight shone on her skin, making her look angelic.
"This isn't your fault. This happened because of the war. Because of what happened to you over there. We need to tell a judge that."
"I'll try," I said, exhaling.
"No. We'll try. We're a team now."
"You don't have to—"
"I want to. Whatever you're going to face up there, I'm going to be with you. I figured something out today."
"What's that?"
"That we're a lot alike. You went along with our parents all those years ago because you wanted to make them happy. Thought it would be better for everyone. Thought it would be better for me and my relationship with my mother."
I nodded. "That's exactly what I thought. I was wrong. I should have fought for us."
"No. Maybe. But I understand now. You want to please people. I do too. And now I think it's time we put each other first. We just have to trust each other with the truth—and forgive each other when we make mistakes. Let's go to my apartment. You're not going back to that asbestos trap."
She rose and held out her hand, and I let her pull me upright. Then we silently walked to the street and drove separately to her hotel.
Once inside, I closed myself off in her bathroom for a while, needing time to recharge. I splashed water on my face, then looked at the bags under my eyes in the mirror. I felt a little better after telling Jessica everything, but my muscles still tensed every time I thought about returning to New Orleans and giving up my freedom and any hope of happiness.
I opened the bathroom door and saw Jessica sitting on the bed wearing a short and filmy white nightie. The outline of her breasts was visible, and despite my exhaustion and terror and sadness, I wanted to hold her. Wanted to be inside her. Wanted to love her.
Shaking and stripping off my clothes, I walked to the bed. She smiled as I approached, and I had a rock-solid erection by the time I took her in my arms. It was clear what she wanted, and I couldn't resist, not even under the circumstances. I eased her onto her back and caged her with my arms and legs, raining kisses down upon her skin. First her lips, then her jaw, then the soft column of her neck. Her breathing quick, she made those little moaning noises I loved.
"I'm sorry for everything," I whispered, stroking her hair away from her face. "I'm sorry for not standing up to our parents back then, and I'm sorry for not telling you the truth about my problems. I'd totally understand if you didn't want anything to do with me ever again."
She sniffled, then reached out to cup my jaw, angling my head toward hers. "You have nothing to be sorry about."
"I love you," I murmured, and lifted her nightie.
She wasn't wearing anything underneath. My hands roamed her body, pausing to stroke her nipples with my thumbs. When I slipped the gown over her head, a little sob escaped her lips, and I paused, confused.
"Do you not want me to—?"
"I want you to do anything you want with me."
Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes, and the sight made my heart so heavy, I wasn't sure I could take any more. I brushed my lips over the wetness streaking her temples, then softly kissed her cheeks, her mouth. Then I glanced down. God, she was so gorgeous.
"I'm so sorry," I whispered a second time in her ear, caressing a long strand of her hair.
"Don't ever apologize again. For any of this. I'm sorry for pushing you away. For being nasty. For not trusting you. I'm learning how to forgive, Leo, and I forgive you for all those years ago. And I trust you going forward."
I kissed her deep and slow, then parted her legs with my knee. "We both have a lot to learn."
"I know. But right now, we can love each other. We've always been perfect at that."
Chapter 41<
br />
Relief
JESSICA
Wow, how was I still standing? I’d never been this exhausted, physically or emotionally.
I looked like hell and refused to glance into a mirror in the hallway as I passed from the kitchen into the dining area while carrying a basket of banana bread. My hair was clipped into a messy knot, and I wore a sweatshirt over a pair of jeans. No makeup. Normally I tried to dress up for the guests, but today, I couldn't muster the enthusiasm.
Leo also looked ragged. For the first time, I'd noticed little creases in between his eyebrows. They seemed to have deepened overnight, and when he first woke his eyes had taken on a deeply haunted, vacant stare, as if he was walking to his execution. He'd perked up some while serving guests, and for that, I was grateful.
He was still the most beautiful man I'd ever seen, and I sighed when watching him walk out of the dining room to grab a copy of The Palmira Post on the porch. What was going to happen once we got to New Orleans? Would he be put in jail immediately? Maybe a judge would be lenient because Leo was a war veteran and he'd acted without full consciousness. I had to hold onto that fantasy of mercy. Otherwise, the thought of not seeing Leo for years was too devastating. But I'd wait for him.
"Got your paper, Mr. Spencer," Leo said, walking in and stripping off its little plastic bag. He set the paper in front of the guest, who thanked him.
Leo had already learned the guests' names and had been chatting with them all morning as if nothing bothered him. He'd even joked and laughed with a couple people.
It was heartbreaking.
I turned away because I was about to cry. Leo didn't deserve any of this. His caring and thoughtful personality was at odds with someone who would set fire to a building. Even if he did have night terrors, even if the Ambien had made him sleepwalk and sleep-drive, this didn't make sense. He was too good, way too good, to do anything that destructive.
We had to figure out something. A lawyer? That was the first step. I wasn't naïve enough to think my love could cure him. No, Leo had some deep-rooted PTSD issues. He needed therapy, and quick. And probably different medication. But I wanted to be there for him, to help him in any way I could.
Shifting my body back toward the table so I could clear some dishes, I maneuvered around Mr. Spencer's open newspaper. When I went to grab an empty coffee mug, I gasped as I glimpsed a headline over the man's shoulder.
Arrest Made in New Orleans Recruitment Center Arson
"Leo!" I said, louder than I intended. Everyone in the room looked up. Frowning, he moved to my side.
"What, babe?"
Not wanting to alarm the guests, I tugged at Leo's arm, pulling him into the hallway.
"There's a story in the paper about the arson," I whispered.
"What?" His eyes darted toward the dining room, and his shoulders tensed.
"Yeah. I just saw it when I was clearing the table. It said an arrest has been made. Go get that paper!"
Leo craned his neck toward the door to the dining room. "I can't just rip it out of the guy's hands."
I rubbed my lips together. "No. You're right. We're going to have to wait."
We returned inside and continued clearing the table, buzzing nervously around the room. Only when the guest put the newspaper down did Leo pounce, scooping it up and stalking out of the room.
I followed him into the kitchen.
"It's inside—no, the next page," I said impatiently as he thumbed through.
Both of us shaking, we located the article. It wasn't long, and was at the bottom of page 4A.
"'Police matched the DNA found on a T-shirt to a local homeless man who confessed to lighting the fire in the alley near the back door of the recruiting center because he was cold,'" I read aloud. "'The suspect is a sixty-eight-year-old Vietnam veteran who is known to police.'"
Leo slumped against the counter and closed his eyes.
I threw my arms around him and held on tight. It was all I could do. My eyes swam with tears, and then I couldn't stop them from flowing.
"We've got a lot of work to do," I murmured after a few minutes, sniffling.
"Yep. We do. First, clean up the dining room. Then I have to sort out a few things at the bakery and help you plan some events here and—"
I leaned back, tilting my head toward him. "No," I interrupted, wiping my cheek. "I'm not talking about work things."
Sadness clouded his face. "What are you talking about?"
"You. We have a lot of work to do with you. We need to find you a good therapist, or a group, or something that can help you with your PTSD. I'm going to make that my priority."
"You really still want to be with me now that you know all about my issues? My problems sleeping, my night terrors, everything? It's good the arson is cleared up, but I'm still damaged."
I nodded. "Those things aren't you. They're symptoms of what happened to you. I have some understanding of that. Ask me to tell you about me and Jacob sometime—but only if you want. Now might not be the time."
"Did he hurt you physically?"
I felt his body tense and shook my head.
He exhaled. "Good."
"I love you, Leo." Fanning my hand on his chest over his heart, I stared into his eyes.
"You know, I'll be better now that I'm with you and—"
I shook my head. "You'll need help. We need to see. This isn't about being cured by the love of a good woman and some magical sexy times."
He grinned. "Magical sexy times? I thought they cured everything. And I think it's a regimen that's dangerous to give up. I hope to have many more, in fact. As soon as possible."
I laughed, delighted, and leaned up to brush my lips over his, but when he slipped his hands under my shirt and caressed my bare back, I wriggled away. "Our sexy times are magical. But they're not going to help you heal. I want you healthy and whole for the long haul."
"I guess that means you really want a future with me."
I rested my hand on the back of his head and moved my mouth to his ear. The smell of his faint, lime-and-spice cologne and feel of his hands spanning my back stirred my whole body with desire.
"That's exactly what it means, Leo."
Epilogue
One year later...
LEO
"Leo, tell the group what's helped you in the last year, in terms of your PTSD."
I took a breath. "Oh, God. So much. So, so much. I've gotten the bakery up and running, and I'm helping my girlfriend with her hotel. I've also taken up windsurfing. Being out there on the water helps. But really, these two are the reason why I'm alive." I turned to my right. "She's been there for me through everything. This is Jessica, my girlfriend, and I love her. She's my rock. She listens, and she wakes me up if I'm having nightmares, and she's patient, and..." I trailed off.
Sometimes it was too much to talk about. Sometimes my heart was so full, I didn't know how to express it all. But I was trying, and doing better each day.
I swallowed the hard lump that had formed in my throat. I'd planned this night for weeks, taking Jessica to this meeting for military spouses to thank her for everything she'd done. I had some other plans too. But now, I could barely get the words out.
"And her," I added. I swiveled my head to peer down at the black Labrador Retriever sprawled next to my chair. "This is Mia. I got her through Southeastern Guide Dogs. She helps with my anxiety. She nudges me when I'm having a flashback and she's so calming. It's pretty incredible what she does for me. I'm still having some horrible dreams, but a lot less now. And I'm taking some new medications which have helped too."
I paused again. "I'm also in therapy, and we've determined I actually suffer more from something called TSD than PTSD. Trauma-Associated Sleep Disorder. It's different from PTSD in that my symptoms manifest more when I'm sleeping than during the day. But things are getting better. Just having a diagnosis helps."
I squeezed Jessica's hand, and she leaned into me when I was finished talking. "I'm proud of you," she whispe
red.
We stayed at the support group meeting for two hours in all, then climbed in my truck and drove over the long bridge from Fort Myers back to Palmira.
"Let's stop to watch the sunset," I said, glancing at her as I drove.
"Awesome idea. We can go to the dog beach so Mia can stretch her legs."
I didn't know who loved the dog beach more, Mia or Jessica. I just knew being with them both gave me a peace I hadn't felt in years, and whatever they wanted to do, I'd follow.
Sure, we'd found moments of difficulty in the past year, with most of them centered around the best treatment for me. But we'd worked through everything with a discussion and had emerged stronger at the end of each day.
She'd even improved her relationship with Nicole, who'd been impressed with what we'd been able to accomplish at the hotel in just a year. Things were going so well, we'd hired a new part-time employee. I liked to think the pastries from Sugar Rush were helping out just a little.
We pulled into a parking lot, which was oddly empty for that time of year. The winter sun was low, and everything seemed still, fragile.
"Got the place to ourselves," I said.
I leashed Mia and held her in one hand and Jessica with the other. It was a perfect evening, and it was about to get better. The grin on my face spread wider. Jessica had no idea.
Once we got on the sand, we unleashed Mia and watched her poke around the water with her nose. Then, being the calm service dog she was trained to be, she sat on the sand within eyesight of me and surveyed the empty beach. I was still standing, and my heart felt light as I watched Jessica kneel, inspecting something in the fine, sugary sand.
"Did you find a starfish?" I asked softly.
"No, it's a shell." She squinted up.
"Hey. Come here." I pulled her to standing, then planted a soft kiss on her lips. After, I sank to one knee on the sand. I took out a small black velvet box from the pocket of my shorts, and my hands quaked. Her mouth dropped open, and a little cry escaped her lips.
