by Hilary Storm
That’s my biggest reason right there for not calling Jade. She needs to deal with what happened, in her own way. On her own time. I’ll give her a week or so before I find her. The first time is the hardest of them all. It doesn’t matter how much they psychoanalyze your brain; drill a damn hole in your head and fill it with the fact that the enemy will kill you unless you strike first. It’s a vicious circle that spins inside of you until you blow it up your own damn self.
I lean my head forward in the shower, letting the steam and the hot water clear my mind. I learned a long time ago to let that shit go. It’s my job. I do it well, and I’ll do it again if the need arises.
I grab my soap and scrub the hell out of my body, washing away the last traces of this mission. No more. I’m done thinking about it until I help her.
After drying off and finishing my morning routine, I throw on a pair of worn jeans and a navy t-shirt. Slipping into my boots, I make my way down the hall and to the kitchen, leaving my bed unmade. It may be unusual that I don’t want to make it. I don’t give a shit. The idea of knowing she was in my bed at all makes me want to leave it all crumpled to hell.
“Hey, fuckhead!” I shout into the phone where I placed it on the counter before walking to the other side of the kitchen to grab a bottle of water out of the fridge. It’s eleven in the morning, too damn late for coffee.
“Fuck off. Wait, you’ve been fucking off for a week now. Get your ass in here so I can leave and find me some hot piece of ass to take home and fuck.” Some things will never change. I shake my head as I listen to my partner carrying on about how deprived his dick has been since I’ve been gone. He’s so full of fucking shit. That man will fuck any goddamn thing. He’s a hundred times worse than I’ve ever been. My desire to pick up other women vanished the minute I saw Jade. I shake her from my mind and chug down the entire bottle of water, toss the empty plastic into the garbage, snatch the phone off of the counter, and head out the front door. “Whatever, fucker. I’ll be there in a few,” I tell him before I end the call in the middle of him bitching.
I stare down at my phone. The urge to call her is grinding away at my gut. Instead, I toss the phone into the empty passenger seat and grab my shades and my ball cap. I’m giving her the space she asked for, for now anyway.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
JADE
I knew the moment I woke up drenched in sweat, my entire body trembling from the nightmare that won’t leave my damn mind, that I had to leave. It didn’t matter that the sun was set to rise. I had to get the hell out of there before I woke him. The man has been through enough shit to have to deal with a wacked-out woman who can’t handle what she has been trained to do. I don’t need coddled, or for anyone to tell me I will be alright. I need to do this my way.
So what did I do? Like a coward, I fumbled through the dark of his bedroom. Found all of my clothes and tiptoed out of his room. Found a half bath in the hallway and quickly got dressed, picked up my bag from the floor where he dropped it, and quietly exited his house. Called a cab to pick me up. My eyes stayed glued to his front door, praying he wouldn’t notice I was gone. It wasn’t until I pulled away that I let out a deep breath he didn’t wake. Not that I wouldn’t have left anyway, but I couldn’t deal with seeing the look on his face. He wants to help, I appreciate him for that. But how can anyone help me if I don’t try to help myself?
By the time the cab driver dropped me off to retrieve my car, my nerves were frantic and my chest was so very tight. Every noise had me jumping. It was like gunfire to my ears, strangling me and making it hard to breathe, not to mention hard to drive. Turning on the radio to some random classical station to drown out the noises from outside, I made my way down the road and away from Commander Kaleb Maverick.
By the time I made the three-hour drive to my apartment, thankful my roommate was already gone to work, I was a mess and coated in sweat. My chest was aching to the point I felt like I was having a heart attack as anxiety swarmed around me.
By the time I was inside my apartment, my hands were shaking so bad I dropped the card my superior officer handed me on the floor twice before falling to my knees in a crying mess. Through tear-stained eyes I managed to dial the psychiatrist’s number. I attempted to gain some sort of control before speaking to her receptionist, but not enough that she didn’t recognize the panic in my voice before she placed me on hold, returning shortly to tell me to be there within the hour.
So here I am. Sitting in the office of Doctor Simone Randall. Her office is cheery and bright. Her coal-black hair is pulled back with those old metal clips on each side like my grandmother used to use. Her eyes are kind and sympathetic. She’s not showing me pity, just warmth and understanding, as if she knows exactly what I’ve been through. This is the first time I feel a sliver of hope.
“We both know what’s brought you here today, Jade. Anything you tell me stays between the two of us. It’s strictly confidential. My report back to your superior officer will only state whether I feel you need more time or whether you’re ready to perform your job duties,” she says honestly.
“Thank you,” I tell her.
“I haven’t had the chance to look over much of this. To be quite honest, I wasn’t expecting to hear from you for a few days. However, my job is to help you and listen to you. You tell me where you want to start. I’ll stop you if I have questions.” I’m in love with her already. Don’t ask me how I know this. Maybe it’s her non-judgmental demeanor or the clarity in her tone. I don’t know, but when I start to tell her how difficult it is for me to handle the fact that I shot a young boy, her words back to me make sense. It’s something I knew all along, but hearing it from a person who wasn’t out there, or from someone who thinks they know what’s best for me, puts a whole new perspective on my troubling mind.
“I think it’s good for you that you have some time off and stay away from the base where it’s going to remind you of the trauma you’ve endured. However, I would like to recommend you not isolate yourself from everyone. Nightmares are going to come and go, Jade, and with those nightmares comes the difficulty of sleeping.” Then she surprises me with her next request. My brain desperately tries to understand why she thinks this would help me.
“One thing I did see in your file is that you lost a brother. Would you like to talk about that at all?” I’m not sure if I do. That’s one of the reasons why I need to make peace with my parents. Why I need to feel normal before I make the drive across town to see them. My older brother Jason committed suicide almost two years ago after his second tour in Iraq. He hid his symptoms of PTSD from us all. The police found him two days later, after he took his life by jumping off a bridge. It destroyed my parents; a part of all of us died that day with Jason.
By the time I’ve left her office with another appointment for the day after tomorrow and a mild anti-anxiety prescription, I know exactly the first place I need to go to begin this journey of healing.
~~~~
“I’m here, Jason.” I am kneeling on the ground in front of my brother’s grave. There’s just enough light left on the horizon for me to see his name engraved and the words ‘Forever in our Hearts’ below his name.
“I’m sorry it’s been so long. I don’t have an excuse, and I won’t make one up. I miss you.” I trace my fingers over his name. The tears fall freely and I let them.
“I’m struggling, Jason. I need you to give me strength to get through this. You already know what happened, what I did. There’s no need for me to tell you. I love my job and what it stands for. I would kill that young boy all over again to save my team. It’s just… I can’t get the image of how young he was out of my head. It’s haunting my soul. It’s tragic and I’m scared.” My forehead goes to the cold stone and I cry. I’m so tired, weak, and drained.
I’m not sure how long I stay there with my head up against his headstone with fond memories imploring my mind. It’s dark on a warm night with a million stars in the sky by the time I gather myself and than
k my brother for listening. It’s a figment of my imagination upon walking away when I hear his speech reaffirm what I already know.
“You’ll get there, Jade. The hardest part about war is the battle we have within ourselves. We struggle with it daily. For some it may never go away, but for you it will. You have to believe it, believe in yourself, believe in your country, and don’t shut people out.”
I turn my phone on the minute I get into my car, checking my messages before I leave to go see my parents. I’m surprised when there is one from Harris, and one from my roommate, and none from Kaleb. A part of me is hurt that he never called or texted to check up on me, while the other part is somewhat relieved. Maybe he’s going to give me the space I asked for and let me figure this out on my own.
I check the voicemail from Mallory first. “I’m going to kick your ass. How dare you come home and not call me first? You better call me right now, Jade Elliott, or I will snap your tiny ass in two. Call me now!” I laugh at her obnoxious behavior. The bitch knows how this shit works. Hell, her father is a retired officer from the Navy. I listen to Harris’ message through my Bluetooth as I pull out of the cemetery, eager to see my parents.
“Hey. I’m heading to my ranch in Alabama for the weekend. Thought maybe a change of scenery might do you good. Call me if you’d like to go.” That’s it. Short and to the point. No flirtation in his tone at all. I know Harris all too well. My intuition about him knowing there is something going on between Kaleb and I is spot on. Kaleb told him. I know he did, and I should wring his thick, muscular, corded neck for opening his big mouth, but instead I feel relieved. I’m not in the mood for Harris and his sexual advances. What I am in the mood for is a nice weekend away. Riding horses, which I’ve never done before in my life.
Dialing Mallory, I prepare for the chaos of her excitement. She's exactly whom I need to be around right now, but she's the one person, who can read straight through my emotions. She’ll never ask specifics; she’ll just get that I've had a rough time.
“Did you really wait twenty-four hours to check in with me? Jade Elliott, there'd better be a story about one hot night of sex as an explanation of yourself.”
“Hi Mal, I'm home.” I avoid her interrogation and try to move the conversation along. I’m going to keep everything I’ve been through with Maverick to myself. She’d get caught up in the would-haves and should-haves and drive me insane.
“Tell me you're on your way here now! I’m going to take the next few days off if you are.” Mal may get excited about things and cause me to internally flinch at her energy, but honestly, she’s exactly what I need right now. Girl time will do me wonders after being around so much constant testosterone.
“I'm going to stop by my parents’ house for a few days maybe. But what I really need to do is stand my ass in a hot shower for hours.”
“Your parents?” She knows this is a very awkward situation for me and that I haven’t spoken with them in a while. It’s been nearly two years since Jason's funeral, and I think I've only talked to them twice. I just couldn't handle looking at the loss in my mom's eyes when my heart matched her emotions exactly. I know she was worried I'd turn up the same, but what she doesn't understand is, I was already just like Jason before he died. There's not possibly any way I could become more like the guy I looked up to my entire childhood. He was my hero. He fought for my country and for my freedom.
He would share stories with me he wouldn't share with anyone else. I was his outlet and through all of that, we shared a closeness I've never felt with either of my other three brothers. A part of me died when he died.
“Yes. It’s time. I miss them.” She doesn't continue to question me. If she wants to know any more than that, she doesn’t ask. She knows I can't tell her anything about where I’ve been or what I’ve done. I need quiet time to myself to sort all of this out before I see her.
“And then you're mine!”
“Yep.” My mind slips back to Kaleb with the word mine. The way he said he wanted me to be his and the way he has a way of claiming me every time we're together frustrates me. This trip will do me good.
“Hey. How do you feel about Alabama?”
I ask, quickly pulling my thoughts from everything Kaleb. I can't think about him right now. The need to get my life back on track has to come before him, or any man for that matter.
“Is this a trick question?”
“No. One of the Captains from my team invited me to his ranch for a few days. How does a road trip sound?”
“It sounds damn perfect. I think it's exactly what I need!”
“Alright, get packed up, we’re leaving Friday, so I'll let you know more details after I talk to Harris.”
“Oh, he sounds cute.”
“What makes you think it's a guy?”
“Because I'm your only female friend, Jade. We both know you roll with men better than women in the grand scheme of life.” She's right. Shit, I can't think of any other woman I've actually remained friends with over the years. We just generally don't have much in common. Partly due to the fact I’m a soldier and most of them are wives of soldiers. I don’t really know why, but she’s right.
“I'll let you decide that for yourself. I'll see you after I go see my parents, then we’ll talk more. If it goes well, I’ll stay with them, if not I’ll be home sooner.” God, I need to talk to them. I know things will be awkward with the way I left. I know without a doubt that my parents love me, they love us all. It’s me who is dealing with more guilt than I’m willing to carry anymore. It’s time I at least attempt to be strong enough to handle the look on my mom’s face when she speaks of him. The elicit effect from what I’d done triggered my stubbornness into reality. I should’ve been there for him. I owe my parents the respect they deserve. I owe them the right to see their daughter.
“Jade, I'm so excited that you're home, but I hope it goes well and I don't see you for a few more days.” Her attitude turns serious.
“I know. Me too.” I'm not excited about anything, but I have to fake it. I am hopeful though. I'm hopeful I can make amends with a few things in my life. My parents are the first step to being successful in that.
“See you soon!” She hangs up, and I take some time before I call Harris. I think a trip like this is exactly what I need. I’m just not sure it should be with him. Who knows what Kaleb has said to him; and I can only imagine the shit going through Harris’ head. Well, there's one thing I know for sure, Harris will say what's on his mind. He won't sit on anything too long, so I know if something did go on between the two of them, he'll tell me.
“Shit.” His phone goes directly to voicemail. He's probably either sleeping or fucking someone, who the hell knows with him. I hope he’s done both; he deserves both after what we've been through. I leave him a message, letting him know I'd love to join him for that road trip and that I’m bringing Mallory. Also, that I’m at my parents’ for a few days, he can text me the time and the directions.
By the time I hang up, I’m pulling down the old, familiar street. Everything looks the same as it did all those years I lived here. Flowers are blooming and the grass is green. My heart literally leaps from the thought of seeing my parents. The white house with the big backyard looks the same. Except for the swing on the front porch and a few potted plants on the steps, it’s exactly as I remember.
“Jade. Oh my goodness.” My mom exits the house before I’m all the way out of the car. I pause for a moment and just take her in. She looks beautiful. Her blond hair is now streaked with silver, but her skin is still flawless. She has aged hardly at all.
“Mom.” Slamming the door to my car, I run to her. Her arms encircle me the moment I hit the top step. I don’t care what anyone says, there's nothing like being in the arms of your mom. I suck in a sharp breath; she smells the same. Like cookies and vanilla. A weird combination, I know, but my mom always made cookies. She always tucked a few extra away for me to eat with her; with four brothers and my dad she had to.
I smile when we step inside. The same photographs of me and all my siblings still fill the one wall. The same exact leather furniture sits next to my dad’s ratted recliner, which is still in the spot directly in front of the television. These are the signs that I know I’m home.
I don't have time to reminisce long before my mom makes my presence known to my dad. “Christopher! Look who's here!” She yells out to the man who is sitting in the sunroom watching a ball game from the sounds of the loud play-by-play announcements over his speakers.
“You have got to be shitting me? My girl! Well damn, it’s about time you pulled your head out of your ass and brought it home. Get in here and have a beer with your old man. The Marlins are playing, up 3-0 in the bottom of the third.” Some things never change. This is why I needed to come home. I needed to see they were alright. I won't lie and say the guilt of staying away hasn't been eating at me.
I sit softly on the edge of the couch near my dad and face the game, hoping he'll continue to allow this whole thing to not be a terrible idea. Coming home should not feel like I'm walking on eggshells, but it does. “I know you can’t talk about what's bothering you, Jade, just know this will always be your home. We’ll always be your parents.” My mom sits next to me, and we both sit back to relax against the back of the couch. I feel my body loosen up slightly. We sit like this for an entire inning and listen to my dad yell at the umpires for every bad call that's made. He's always been an avid Marlin fan.
