Daisy spoke barely above a whisper. “Not if he was already dead.”
Sky’s chest tightened. Fuck, it hurt to breathe. Especially with his heart hammering away like that. He found a comforting rhythm with his thumbs, tracing one thumbnail with the tip of the other. “It creeped me out when George told me about Joe and Sarah, because Daniel was married too. He and his wife, Jill, had a little girl. After he died, I went to see them. I tried to spend time with them, but Jill wanted me gone.” He met Daisy’s eyes again. “I felt responsible somehow. I wanted to stay and take care of them, but she kept telling me it was too much of a reminder that I survived and Daniel didn’t. And to please go away.”
Daisy stroked his cheek. “I understand now why you offered to care for Hallie McCabe if Philip had died.”
He snorted out a laugh of disbelief. “Pretty sick, huh?”
“No, Sky. Caring. Maybe a little misplaced. But caring.”
Sky stood and paced back and forth in the bedroom. Both hands found their way into his hair. “They can tell me there was nothing else I could have done until they’re blue in the face, but I can’t get that day out of my mind.” He stopped, turned, and beseeched Daisy with his eyes. “Jesus Christ, do you know what happens when your tail rotor goes out? You fucking spin. Until you fucking crash.” He sat down on the end of the bed again, elbows on knees, chin in hands.
Daisy patted his back, but remained silent. Had he just fucked up the best thing that ever happened to him? He should have known it was too good to be true. He should have known better than to think he deserved happiness. He didn’t fucking deserve squat.
“You asked me if I had any problems after killing terrorists in the attack on the Blanchard. I don’t. Taking out the tangos hasn’t bothered me in the least. It was the accident in ’08 when I lost Daniel. That’s what gets me every time. I always dream I can’t get him free from his harness. And then Jill comes and bangs on the window and yells at me to save him.” Sky turned and looked at her. “Except lately it’s been you at the window.”
“Me? I’m in your dreams.”
Sky gave a little chuckle. “Yeah, you’re the woman of my dreams, but not like this. In these dreams you make me go with you.” He smiled at her. “You want to fool around, which makes me feel even guiltier for leaving him behind.”
Daisy asked quietly, “And you don’t see the symbolism in that?”
“What symbolism?”
“Nothing,” she said. Just sat there and waited for him to go on.
Was there any hope she’d let this ride? That she’d forgive him? For what? Not telling her he had bad dreams sometimes? Or, being stupid enough to think he could handle this himself?
“Maybe that’s why I’ve been afraid to have a serious relationship with anyone. Maybe I couldn’t allow myself to settle down because I wouldn’t want to leave her behind, you know, like Daniel left Jill.” He smacked his forehead. “What am I saying? Of course you know. But then Philip told me about that survivor guilt thing that worked for him and I figured it was worth a try. I started to believe that maybe I was left behind to make a contribution to the world—maybe with you.”
He hoped to hell when he looked at Daisy that she’d look forgiving. But all he saw was disappointment in her eyes. “That’s why I asked you to marry me. No, wait. I asked you to marry me because I love you. But I finally felt like maybe I deserved to love somebody after he told me that.”
“And how’s that ‘survivor guilt thing’ working for you? Have your dreams stopped?”
“Obviously not.”
“How long has this been going on? The dreams?”
Now the disappointment was partnered with suspicion and…was that anger he saw? No, it was fear. Fear of her nightmare happening all over again. It was all there for the taking, reflected in her blue-green eyes. And then he boiled it down to one word. He had hurt her by not telling her about the dreams.
“Ever since it happened. I’ll have a lot of good nights and then, Whamo! Out of the blue, a bad night. But they’ve gotten a lot better since George and I talked a couple weeks ago.” Maybe Sky could bargain with her. “Come on, it’s not as bad as what happened to Jack.”
Daisy wrapped her arms around herself. “I told you I wasn’t going to do this again, Sky.”
“It’s just dreams, Daisy. I can handle it.”
“Okay, but maybe I can’t. Because that’s exactly what Jack said. You suggested I go talk with someone. And it’s helped. Have you gone for help? You know, what’s good for the goose and all that?”
Finally he had a leg to stand on. “Yeah, I did. They make you talk to someone after an accident like that. You have to go talk to the squadron doc and a shrink.”
“When was the last time you talked to ‘the squadron doc and a shrink?’”
“After it happened. Couple of years ago.” He was losing ground again. “No, wait I had to go through it again after the attack on the Blanchard. Look, I’m fine, Daisy. Really.”
Daisy leapt from the bed and pointed to the headboard. “A man just woke up in my bed screaming. I wouldn’t say he was fine, Sky. I wouldn’t say he was fine at all. You told me that in order to move forward with my life, I had to let Jack go.”
Her voice gained momentum by the second. “Only then could I move on and be able to love again. That’s what you said. And I had to get past the fear that if I left him behind it didn’t mean he didn’t matter. You taught me that. But did you do it yourself? No, you’ve clung to this…this tragedy…afraid that if you leave Daniel behind, it will mean that his life was unimportant. You’re afraid you’ll forget him as if he never mattered.”
Daisy paced. She stopped, turned, and glared at him. “And you had the audacity to suggest that I needed counseling. Talk about the goose and the gander!”
Sky stood and faced her, hands out in supplication. “I’m sorry, Daisy. I’m sorry I didn’t say anything. I really thought I could handle it.” His voice gained strength until he was shouting. “I’m sorry I didn’t keep talking to a shrink. I’m sorry I couldn’t save Daniel. I’m sorry I didn’t die. I’m sorry for ever fucking living! What do you want from me?” he cried.
She stood there, eyes wide. “I want you to admit you need help.”
Completely spent, Sky collapsed at the foot of the bed. He cradled his head in his hands and mumbled, “It’s still not as bad as Jack’s problems.”
Daisy sat down beside him, but did not touch him. “What’s big and bad to you is big and bad to you. You cannot compare it to other people’s pain or symptoms. PTSD is not a competitive sport.”
Sky jerked his head up to look at her. “What makes you so sure it’s PTSD?”
Daisy flew up from the bed, her hands punctuating her speech. “It goddamn well is! You had a traumatic experience. You have repercussions that interfere with your life and mine. That’s PTSD. Wake up and smell the fucking coffee!”
Sky took that one like a shot. Braced himself with his hands. His head fell back. He exhaled deeply. He was all out of ammo.
Daisy Mae wandered into the melee, jumped into his lap, and had the gall to purr. He pushed her away. “Some alarm cat you are,” he mumbled.
“What?”
“She…” Suddenly his hair needed repeated smoothing. “She usually wakes me up. She senses when I’m dreaming, I guess.”
Daisy stood there, hands on hips, disbelief on her face. “Daisy Mae wakes you up from your nightmares?”
“Usually.”
Daisy’s jaw dropped. “Oh, my God! Is that why you’ve kept her here?”
Sky looked at her sheepishly. There was no need to answer the question. He swallowed. “Look, I’ll go talk with somebody, okay? How ’bout we discuss this when I get back from the mission?”
“How ’bout we don’t? How ’bout I don’t ever want
to talk to you again? How ’bout good-bye? How ’bout that?”
Sky walked to the bedside table, head hung low. He picked up his wallet and keys and put them in his pockets. “Okay. I’ll definitely talk to someone when I get back.”
Daisy threw her hands up in the air and sighed heavily. “You don’t understand, Sky. This isn’t about a couple of dreams. This is about deceit. You lied to me. When I said I could never deal with another man with PTSD, that should have been the time to fess up. Oh, my God, did I really call you trustworthy tonight? I should have followed my instincts. I knew you were bad news the second I met you. What was I thinking?”
“Daisy, I’m sorry. What if I promise to talk with someone? I really do love you.”
“You know what? I thought I loved you too, but it’s a little late for that. Because I’m not sure I can ever forgive you for lying to me. You knew how badly I was hurting over Jack’s condition and yet you continued to deceive me. So how ’bout this? How ’bout I think you need to leave. Right now. So please pack up your alarm cat and get the hell out of here!”
Chapter 25
Talk about crashed and burned.
Sky hadn’t felt this bad since... No, this didn’t even come close to the way he’d felt when Daniel died, but he still felt pretty shitty.
Why hadn’t he listened to himself in the locker room that day when he realized this falling-in-love stuff was too much work? The day he’d decided to let Daisy go because it was too much damn trouble? Oh, yeah. That plan had flown right out the window when she asked him to hold her all night, and he’d ended up in her guest room bed.
And here he was back in his own bed at what? Three o’clock in the morning? He hadn’t been able to sleep since she’d thrown him and Daisy Mae out on their asses three days ago. He couldn’t even go on a decent unshaven, unwashed, drunken bender because he had to go to work to prepare for an op. Prep days, when he was usually gung-ho about flying south and hoping to kick some drug-runners’ asses. Everyone else at the squadron was in pep rally mode, and there was Sky, slumping around headquarters like some kind of emotional road kill.
The nights hadn’t been much better. Even his favorite shoot-’em-up flicks didn’t take the sting out. There he’d sat for the past three nights with Daisy Mae on his lap, surrounded by empty pizza boxes and dead soldier beer bottles, watching good conquer evil. And it only served to make him feel fat and lazy. He should have worked out his angst at the gym—but then he wouldn’t have had the luxury of feeling sorry for himself. He might have felt pumped up about life in general, instead of sinking down to a deep navy blue.
Here he was, able to sleep as much as he wanted at night without worrying about the dreams, and he couldn’t sleep. Oh, he dropped off with no problem, but he awoke a few hours later. Hurtin’. And thinkin’.
Stinkin’ thinkin’.
Interesting how he hadn’t had a nightmare since Daisy asked them to leave. At least that wasn’t what was waking him up.
Daisy Mae stretched and head butted Sky under the chin, nuzzling her way under the covers. She liked to curl up in the crook of his arm and purr herself back to sleep. Hey, at least somebody could sleep around here. What a pathetic excuse for a man. With a fucking cat curled up in his arms instead of the most incredible woman in the entire world.
He should have listened to himself that day and walked away from Daisy. But, no. He’d gotten sucked into that magical in-love place. A place, he swore, he’d never go again. Because when it didn’t work out, it hurt too damn much. Christ, had he actually asked her to marry him? Ouch.
He considered going out partying the last couple of nights. What was the use of pretending to be a grown-up if Daisy wanted nothing to do with him? Fuck that. Might as well go back to having fun for the sake of having fun. Yeah, like he was having fun. Ha. But he couldn’t even drag his ass off the sofa for the past seventy-two hours, except to put his game face on and go to work.
Not that flying out to the USS Van Den Elsen later today and maybe catching some bad guys off Central America over the next couple of weeks wouldn’t be fun. Any day flying was fun to Sky, but it saddened him to know that when this mission was over, he’d head back to this pathetic bachelor apartment with its mismatched everything and be utterly and totally alone again. Oh, yeah. It was going to be a merry fucking Christmas. Even the thought of inviting lush young ladies to join him did nothing to raise his spirits. Sky didn’t want any lush young lady. He wanted Daisy.
Daisy Mae repositioned herself and cuddled under his chin. At least this female would be on her back when he returned, waiting for him with bated breath—or was that just a reflection of the wrong brand of cat food? In the old days, he would have thought that was funny. Nothing was funny these days.
Come on, Sky, she’s just a woman. Plenty of those to go around.
But not like Daisy.
Maybe he would do what he’d told her. Look into talking with someone about the nightmares after they completed this op. But that wasn’t going to help things with Daisy. She wasn’t pissed at him for not talking to someone or even for having a couple of bad dreams. She was pissed because he’d essentially lied about it. She’d felt betrayed. Okay, maybe he hadn’t come clean about his dreams, but she never asked if he had nightmares. She’d asked if he suffered from PTSD. And he hadn’t honestly believed that was the case. He and Daniel hadn’t been in combat, so…
“Wake up and smell the fucking coffee.” Was that how she’d put it?
Double ouch.
Daisy had been upset and rightfully so. Because as much as he’d tried to deny it, it was PTSD. She’d nailed it: “You had a traumatic experience. You have repercussions that interfere with your life and mine. That’s PTSD.” And she’d said something about symbolism. What the hell was that all about? Wasn’t symbolism something you had to think about in high school literature class? Did grown-ups still have to do that?
Deep down he’d known it was PTSD all along. But he’d been too bull-headed to deal with it because—how had Jack put it? Counseling is for pussies? That was exactly how he felt. At least up until about seventy-two hours ago when Daisy pointed out to his sorry ass, right before she kicked it out the door, that he needed help. Philip hadn’t been afraid to get help, and look at the magical life he was leading. Okay, so Sky would seriously consider talking with someone when he returned in a couple of weeks.
That decided, he glanced at the clock to see it was now four A.M. He flipped back the covers, figuring the night was a wash. He might as well get up and report early to the squadron. He and Mikey had a full day ahead of them, flying out to the frigate that would take them down through the Panama Canal for drug patrol. Maybe they’d bust some bad guys and he could take his wrath out on them. He might as well shower, shave, and write instructions for Daisy Mae’s care. He leaned over and kissed the top of her head. “At least somebody’s going to miss me while I’m gone.”
“I have no idea where he went or how long he’ll be gone. We’re not only finished, but I told him in no uncertain terms to get a new vet. Even gave him several recommendations. I don’t think you’ll have to worry about him returning to the clinic,” Daisy said, looking over Lillian’s shoulder at the computer.
“Methinks thou doth protest too much, Daze.” Lillian pulled up the appointment calendar for the day and hit Print. “I think you’re still in love with Cap’n Crawford.”
“Darn you, Lillian, I am not.” But Daisy was having trouble convincing her elevated heart rate.
“Are too. Do you have any idea how much you’ve smiled and laughed in the past couple of weeks? Everybody noticed. You didn’t hear all of them. But every client mentioned it as they were checking out. ‘What’s with Dr. Daisy? She seems like a new person. She must be in love or something.’ I just say, ‘I don’t know, but it sure is good to see her so happy.’”
“I wasn’t all
that cheerful.” Daisy took the list and started pulling records.
“Oh, yes you were. Now look. What if he apologizes and gets help for his what? Dreams?”
Daisy rolled her eyes. “I can’t even believe I told you about it.”
“Honey, you gotta talk to somebody. You can’t keep it all bottled up, like you did for the better part of three years.”
“I did not.”
“Come on. You did. You know you did.”
Daisy could feel herself caving. She missed Sky so much, but… “Oh, Lillian, I don’t know. I don’t think I could go through it again. What am I saying? I know I couldn’t go through it again. It’s too painful. And it brings back such bad memories of how Jack and I fell apart. And it’s not just the dreams. I feel betrayed. He kept the truth from me. Maybe if he’d come clean in the first place, I might have been able to deal with it.”
Daisy handed the records to Lillian who stacked them on the desk and added notes to each.
“You told him about Jack, right? He knew how you felt? Maybe he was afraid to tell you. Afraid you’d can his ass right then and there.”
“And maybe I would have. I just don’t know. But I know I cannot tolerate deception.”
“How about that counselor? You still talking with her? That’s been helping, hasn’t it?”
“Yes, but…”
“But what? What does she say about Cap’n Crawford?”
“She says I should think about…” Daisy’s voice drifted off as she scooped up the pile of clients’ records for the day and held them to her chest.
Forget Me Not (Love in the Fleet) Page 24
