Would that act of support and loyalty pay off now? He couldn’t tell by the expression in the lieutenant’s eyes, which rested on Geo’s face with their now-familiar coolness. “Ensign Parnell is already pushing for a Trident review board,” he said quietly. “This incident—striking an officer—along with your arrest of a few weeks ago, makes me think it’s warranted.”
Geo kept quiet.
“Your drinking has increased exponentially. Several of your teammates have remarked on it,” the lieutenant went on. He paused. “A few have raised concerns about operating with you.”
The words hit Geo like a hammer blow, and he had to fight not to stagger. If his teammates were losing trust in him, wouldn’t operate with him, then he was finished.
“Sir—” he choked, but couldn’t go on.
The lieutenant nodded toward Alex. “Master Chief?”
After a long moment, Alex said, “Geo, if you agree to it, I think we’ve come up with a work-around to the disciplinary action.”
“Anything,” Geo burst out. “I’ll do anything—”
“We’re sending you home,” Alex cut in. “As of today.”
“What?” A fresh wave of horror weakened Geo’s knees even more. “You want me to leave the platoon?”
“Temporarily.”
“What do you mean, temporarily?” With all his might, Geo tried not to sound belligerent, especially since right now Alex was his only ally. “How long?”
Alex seemed to brace himself. “At least ninety days.”
“What? Master Chief—”
Holding up a placating hand, Alex waved him toward an empty chair. “Have a seat and hear me out.”
The last thing Geo wanted to do was sit, but he gritted his teeth and did it anyway. Alex propped his butt against the table next to him, arms crossed over his chest. “Ninety days. And during that time, you’ll seek mental health services.”
Geo dug his fingernails into his thighs. “I’ll do what now?”
“You’ll see someone for your post-traumatic stress.” The lieutenant took over, his gaze implacable. “Witnessing the suicide of a battle buddy isn’t something you’re equipped to deal with on your own. Period.”
“I didn’t witness it—”
“You were steps away when it happened. You heard it. You were first on the scene. Don’t quibble with the semantics, Petty Officer.”
Images that were burned into Geo’s brain fought to materialize. In a surge of desperation, he beat them back.
“Don’t do this,” he said hoarsely. “I’ll do better. I won’t drink as much. I’ll work harder—”
“Work harder at what?” Alex interrupted. “Forgetting? The last thing you need to do is stuff this down anymore, Geo. We think it’s time you deal with it once and for all.”
“By sending me away?” Now Geo didn’t bother to modulate his tone. If he was going down, he wasn’t gonna go down easy.
“Yes.” The lieutenant’s voice was equally firm. “If you were bleeding out on the side of the road, we’d do everything in our power to get you help. A mental injury is no different, and I’m not about to sit here and watch you suffer when I can do something about it.”
“You’re not helping me, you’re—”
Consigning my career to the Dumpster. These guys will never, ever trust me again.
He clenched his fists, the starburst of pain shooting up his arm startling him. Geo stared at his swollen knuckles while the lump on the back of his head gave a sudden throb as if to say, “Remember me? You’re a screwup no matter which way you look at it.”
Blowing out a shaky breath, he forced himself to straighten. “So what you’re saying is that I have a choice: Trident review board, or going home to see a shrink.” When the lieutenant nodded, he made a bitter sound. “Basically, I’m fucked.”
“Well, if you look at it that way, I guess you are.”
Before Geo could respond, Alex held up a piece of paper. “This is Ensign Parnell’s statement. What it contains is enough to send you to captain’s mast at best, a Trident review board at worst. If we forward this up the chain of command, yeah, you’re fucked. Even if you beat it, the fact it’s in your permanent record means you’ll never make Chief.”
Geo flinched. Upward or out. If he didn’t make Chief this time, his days were numbered anyway.
“If you agree to go home and seek mental health services, this statement goes in the shredder, never to see the light of day.” Alex crouched in front of him. “We’ve cleared this with the task unit CO,” he said softly. “He bought off on it with zero hesitation.”
When Geo didn’t reply, he went on, “Don’t you get it? We’re worried about you, and we care. The drinking, the discipline problems, the aggression, that’s not you, and we would be remiss—as your leadership and as your friends—if we didn’t say something, do something.” He paused. “Isn’t that what you tell yourself when you think about Barlow? ‘Why didn’t I fucking do something?’”
The truth of that stabbed Geo like a knife to the throat. Tears sprang to his eyes, and for once he didn’t try to hide them. Seeing them, Alex reached out and gripped his shoulder. “That’s a burden you shouldn’t have to carry alone, brother. Not anymore.” He squeezed. “Take some time, figure some stuff out, and come back when you’re ready. There’ll always be a place for you here.”
Geo bowed his head.
The piece of paper crinkled as the lieutenant took it from Alex and slipped it into a manila file folder. “This will stay in my safe for ninety days. It’s up to you what happens to it.”
Dismissed, Geo stood. Alex walked him out into the hallway, where they turned to face each other.
“I just want it noted that I think this is bullshit, Master Chief,” Geo managed.
“It’s noted.”
“I assume there’s someone in Coronado I’m supposed to check in with periodically?”
Alex rattled off the name of a friend of his, and with a start, Geo recognized him as the OIC of Matt’s original platoon, Lieutenant Bradley.
“They’re coming off block leave in the next few weeks and starting workups, so go ahead and hook up with them for the close-to-home stuff.” Alex forced a grin. “Show ’em what a badass K9 team can do, okay?”
When Geo just stared straight ahead, the smile faded from Alex’s lips. “Rotator flight to San Diego leaves at 1300. Be sure you’re on it.”
“Aye, Master Chief,” Geo said stiffly, and without another word, he turned on his heel and strode away. Once in his room, he slumped on the edge of the bed, waves of anger and despair washing through him.
How the hell had it come to this? When had he become so weak, so lacking in self-discipline, that he was letting jerks like Parnell affect him to the point he was being sent home in disgrace, his very future in jeopardy?
Geo clutched his hair. And why couldn’t Cade stay in his goddamn mental box where he belonged?
“Fuck you, Cade,” he gasped. “You kill yourself and now it’s my life being ruined?”
The anger intensified until Geo was shaking with it.
“You’re gone. Checked out. Outta here. And the ones who loved you the most are left holding the bag. Fuck you!”
The pressure inside him built. Fighting the urge to scream, or punch the wall, he finally picked up a heavy boot and flung it across the room with all his strength.
Crash!
It hit the doorframe, inches away from where Matt now stood staring at him, frozen like a deer in headlights.
As quickly as it appeared, the anger leached away, leaving Geo limp and drained. He sank to the edge of the bed and buried his face in his hands. After a moment, the mattress dipped. “I’d ask if you were okay,” Matt said softly, “but I think I know the answer to that.” He lifted his chin toward the black mark on the doorframe.
“Y
eah. Sorry.”
“It’s all right.” Matt hesitated. “What did Master Chief say?” He listened quietly while Geo told him everything, about being sent home, about being ordered to see a therapist.
“Obviously you’re pissed about it,” he said when Geo finished. “I mean, Exhibit A: the boot.”
“I’m pissed at myself, mostly.” Geo heaved a sigh and fell backwards on the bed. “I’m disappointed and angry in myself.”
“For what, being human?”
Geo shook his head. “For being weak. For not setting the example.”
A brief silence, and then Matt said, “Five years ago I made a promise to myself, a promise that I would never touch a drop of alcohol again. I’ve kept it, too, through hazing, peer pressure, even those times when I’m just fuckin’ stressed and a beer sounds like heaven.”
When he didn’t go on, Geo rolled to face him. “And?”
“Now it’s all I can think about. Like, if I drink enough beer, maybe I’ll be able to forget the sound of Shane’s blood splashing everywhere while I kept on driving.”
Geo flinched.
“Maybe I won’t think about those hours when I didn’t know if he was dead or alive. Maybe it’ll erase the knowledge that I’m the one who triggered the goddamn ambush in the first place.”
His own misery forgotten at the anguish in Matt’s voice, Geo sat up and gripped his shoulder. “It won’t. Take it from me. It won’t erase any of that.”
“I know. That doesn’t stop me from wanting it, though.” Sucking in a ragged breath, Matt went on, “So what I need right now is an alternative to taking that drink, something that doesn’t have anything to do with ‘rah-rah SEALs,’ ‘rah-rah mental toughness,’ ‘rah-rah compartmentalize everything and suck it up.’ I can get that anywhere in this community.”
He turned to Geo.
“I need honesty. I need someone to tell me it’s okay to struggle with this shit. That it’s okay to maybe need help.” Matt paused. “Like it or not, you are being an example, even if it’s not the kind you thought you’d be, or the kind you want to be. For what it’s worth, I do think it’s the kind I need.”
“Well, if what you need is to watch me spiral right on down toward rock bottom, enjoy.”
Matt nudged him with his elbow. “I also get to watch our leadership recognize that and do everything in its power to make sure that doesn’t happen. Maybe after all this, other guys who are hurting won’t be too ashamed to ask for help when their time comes.”
With a pat to Geo’s arm, Matt slipped out the door, and long after he’d gone, Geo sat slumped on the bed, his thoughts in a tangle.
It was true. The SEAL narrative was firmly focused on mental toughness, their status as “elite” and “special.” No one talked about the darkness, the brokenness. They didn’t talk about the destroyed marriages, the isolation, the disconnect, or how it felt to stuff charred bits of beloved teammates into body bags and a week later come home to a world whose idea of a bad day was that their car wouldn’t start.
He’d bought into that narrative, too. He’d ignored his own concerns about Cade, and convinced himself that he just needed time, because someone so capable, so larger-than-life, so tough, couldn’t possibly be in such a deep well of agony that death would seem like the only way out.
Geo squeezed his eyes shut, the echo of that single, lonely gunshot ringing in his ears.
“Maybe after watching you...”
No. He didn’t want to be anybody’s trailblazer or poster boy. He wanted to stay with his unit where he belonged.
Until what, the next time you fuck up? If you can’t control your anger, eventually someone’s gonna get hurt. Eventually something’s gonna happen that you won’t be able to come back from.
He still had a chance to come back from this. As much as it sucked, if he jumped through enough hoops like a good trained SEAL, that statement from Parnell would get shit-canned and Geo could get right back where he belonged.
At last he dragged himself up from the bed and started to pack. It didn’t take long, and soon he was strapped into a cavernous C-17, Bosch’s travel kennel locked down at his feet.
As the ramp slid closed and the engines spooled up with a whine, Geo put everything he was leaving out of his mind and turned his focus toward what he needed to accomplish—getting back to his unit.
The problem was, he had no idea where to begin. Who should he call? A Navy psychologist? Memories of past mental health briefs welled up, and Geo shuddered. They’d been a joke, something they all had to sit through, yet even the presenters had looked bored, their message clear: “You don’t really need this. You’re SEALs, right?”
Geo firmed his lips. No way. Whoever he saw would have to be someone outside the Navy, yet ideally someone who also had a basic understanding of military culture. He let out a grunt. Yeah, good luck with that. He had no fucking idea where to start.
Right then his phone buzzed in his pocket. Geo dragged it out, a pleased warmth washing through him as he read Lani’s text. Hey, Bosch and Geo, what’re you up to? Hope you’re out there living your best life. The message was followed by a few paw print emojis and a heart.
Geo stared at the screen. Holy fuck, was he an idiot. Maybe he didn’t have a clue where to start, but he certainly knew someone who did. He snapped a quick photo of Bosch in his crate, and thumbs flying, replied, Heading somewhere top secret. Shhh.
Lani answered with a string of zipped-lips emojis, which made him chuckle.
You get it, don’t you? You understand things about me I don’t even understand myself.
A sudden aching need to see her, to be with her, swept over him. When I get to where I’m going, can we talk?
There was no hesitation. Anytime.
Geo’s tension slowly leached away, and he slumped in relief. Okay. He had someone in his corner, someone he liked, someone he’d already grown to trust. Lani could help him.
He just had to be honest with her first.
* * *
“Thanks, girls!”
Lani stepped out of the SUV before turning back to wave at the driver and the two other women inside. “I had a great time.”
“Love ya, sweetheart.”
“Catch you later!”
“We’ll do lunch soon.”
After the car roared off, she ambled up the sidewalk toward her apartment, smiling to herself. Her tummy was full, her heart even more full, the happiness a low hum that made her swing her purse back and forth playfully and lent a skip to her step.
What a fantastic night.
Still grinning, she caught sight of a lone figure perched on the stairs leading up to her door, and she paused. The man sat just outside the pool of light cast by one of the lamp posts that lined the walkway, his elbows propped on his widespread knees, head down.
Unsure what to do, Lani continued to hesitate. Her apartment complex had roving security, so maybe she should call the number and request an escort before she went any further. She’d just fished her phone out to make the call when the man lifted his head.
She gasped. “Geo!”
She hurried toward him, slowing once again when she caught a clearer glimpse of his face. His eyes looked bleak, lines of misery bracketing his mouth. Stress tightened his shoulders, his fingers clenched together so tightly the knuckles were white.
Holy shit. What was going on?
Her heart pounding, Lani leaned against the railing next to him. “Hey,” she said softly. “How’re you?”
Geo shrugged. “I’ve, uh, been better.”
His voice sounded scratchy, hoarser than usual, and the way he was sitting, muscles bunched as if ready to flee, warned her to keep it light. “Well, I just happened to have made a cheesecake this morning that’ll knock your socks off. Wanna come inside and have some?”
A shadow of a smile touched hi
s mouth. “Sure. If you feel like sharing.”
“Oh, I won’t let you hog it, buster, believe me.” Holding out her hand, Lani said, “C’mon.”
She pulled him to his feet and, entwining their fingers firmly together, led him up the stairs. Once inside the apartment, he headed for the bathroom while she flipped the lights on and started some soft music playing.
She was busy slicing the cheesecake when Geo reappeared, the neckline of his T-shirt damp as if he’d splashed water on his face. Gesturing toward the fridge, she said, “Help yourself to a beer if you want.”
“No. No beer.”
He sounded so adamant that she paused. “Okay. Coffee?”
After a long, slow exhale, he nodded. “Yeah, that sounds good. Thanks. I’ll make it.”
She pointed out where everything was, then left him to it, her mind racing. What was going on? From what she understood, he was supposed to be headed to Langley right about now for his CIA “workshop.” Why was he home, so visibly upset?
And why had he come to her?
Her instincts still screaming to keep it casual, Lani said, “Lemme tell you about my day.”
Busy scooping out the coffee, he didn’t answer, but she saw the stiffness in his shoulders ease a bit.
“Remember the night we met?”
Geo threw her a wry glance. “As if I could forget.” He pantomimed someone puking.
“Not that part,” she grumbled, secretly delighted in the glimmer of humor. “I meant the part where I told you that I’d lost all my friends, the team wives.”
He turned to face her, coffee abandoned for the moment. “Yeah, I remember. Did something happen?”
“Hell, yeah, something happened.” She leaned in close, and lowering her voice dramatically, hissed, “I...stopped feeling sorry for myself.”
“Yeah?”
“Oh, yeah. So get this: the other night I was bored and lonely, my self-pity game super strong. ‘Boo-hoo, poor me. I don’t have any friends anymore. They don’t call me. Why don’t they call me?’ blah, blah, blah.” She paused. “You know what I realized?”
Trusting a Warrior Page 17
