A Good Man

by Rosanna Leo

  “I do, but—”

  “You know what? You’re right, Em. It’s been a long day and it’s only getting longer.”

  “You’re not even giving me a chance to explain.”

  “When it comes to this subject, there’s nothing to explain. I don’t want to do the show and I’m going home.”

  Emily angled away from Lacey and lowered her voice. “Alone?”

  “It might for the best. But I’ll follow you home in my truck and walk you in to make sure you get home safely.”

  “If that’s what you want.”

  His clipped nod smarted like a slap across the face. He headed into the other room to gather up his things and Emily realized she had to move or she’d look pathetic, staring at her man as he walked away. She rallied and turned, trying to remember where she’d left her bag.

  Lacey’s shrewd eyes narrowed. “Good luck, sister. You’re going to need it.”

  “Lacey, wait.”

  The brunette turned back and put a hand on her hip.

  “Michael and I…we didn’t go looking for this.”

  “So it just happened, as they say?”

  “Well…”

  “Let me tell you something. I don’t know what happened between you and Trent and, frankly, I couldn’t care less. I will, however, share what happened with me and Michael. I cheated on him with my ex, not because I felt anything for the man, but because he fulfilled a need. After being in a mind-numbing void with Michael, I needed to feel something. Michael’s a good guy, I’ll give him that. I still care for him, more than I probably should, but he’s closed off when it comes to real emotions. He might blame our break-up on other things, and he’d be partially right, but the fact is he never let me in. He keeps everyone at a distance, even more so since he stopped that man from blowing up the daycare. I would love for him to be able to move on from that day, but he’ll never do it until he confronts it. So, enjoy your little fling, but if you want my advice, you’ll get out now.”

  Even after Lacey walked away, her words hung heavy around Emily, like wet clothes, weighing her down.

  ‘He keeps everyone at a distance.’

  After Trent’s betrayal, the last thing Emily needed was a man who didn’t share his soul. Yes, it was early days, but she could tell her feelings for Michael ran deep and she knew he felt the same. Right now, his attentions made her feel giddy and desirable, but at some point, they’d have to decide on whether or not they could have a future together. Could she love a man who refused to face his feelings?

  He emerged from the other room, keeping his gaze level with her shoulders, but never her eyes. “I’m ready if you are.”

  “I’ll just get my purse.”

  “I’ll wait outside.”

  As he walked away, Emily sensed a space was opening between them, one of his own creation. It might turn into a chasm if she wasn’t careful. Although she knew it made little sense, the idea of losing Michael hurt even more than seeing Trent kiss Veronica. The more time she spent with Michael, the more Trent seemed to fade into the distance, like a worrisome cloud drifting into someone else’s horizon.

  He followed her home in his truck, just as he’d said he would. Emily had snuck several peeks in the rear-view mirror, but every time she spied the drawn lines on Michael’s face, she felt more and more helpless. When they arrived at her condo, she drove into the underground parking and he circled toward the visitor parking lot. She parked her car and headed toward the entrance of the building where they’d agreed to meet.

  Within a few minutes, he arrived at the door and she let him in. “You don’t have to come up. I’m fine.”

  “With everything that’s been happening, I’d like to see you right to your door, if you don’t mind.”

  “Okay.”

  They were silent as they walked down the hall toward the elevator. Once in the elevator, the silence swarmed her and she wanted to babble, say anything, just to cut the tension. However, she took a moment to breathe and plan her words.

  When Emily opened her condo door, Michael entered first and turned on the lights, at his insistence. He was careful to check all the rooms. He returned to the living room and she greeted him with a sigh. “Thank you, but I’m sure there’s no need to look in the closets and under the bed.”

  “Damn. I forgot to look under the bed.” He shrugged. “That was a joke, a bad one.”

  She didn’t laugh.

  “I get it, Em. I may have overreacted about the broken window, but I feel protective toward you.”

  “I’ve never been the focus for any stalkers.”

  “I’d be willing to guess Jane Ashton thought the same thing.” He cast a final glance about the room. “I’m going to go home.”

  “Michael, I’m not sure what you need from me.”

  “I don’t need anything. Please don’t worry.”

  “I want you to know I’m on your side. You do know that, right?”

  “I do.”

  “I just don’t want you to make any difficult decisions without seeing the full picture.”

  He stared at her belt buckle.

  “I’d love for you to stay tonight. We could just grab a pizza and hang out.”

  “Thanks, but I could use some time alone to clear my head. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  Before he left, he gave her a peck on the cheek. Emily didn’t think any kiss had ever felt so cold.

  Once he was gone, her tiny condo struck her as cavernous, hollow. Emily turned on the radio, filling the space with the sounds of classic rock, just so she wouldn’t feel alone. Firing up her laptop, she carried the computer to the kitchen table. After making herself a cup of blueberry tea, she sat and began typing a variety of keywords into the search engine.

  PTSD. Victims. How to help?

  A number of articles filled her screen and she began clicking through them. One in particular caught her attention.

  Post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) is a mental illness. Victims may have been exposed to trauma involving death or the threat of death, sexual violence or injury. The trauma often comes as a surprise and can leave victims with a sense of powerlessness. Many assume PTSD to be connected with military personnel, as a result of living through war or conflict. However, victims of crimes, natural disasters or accidents can also suffer from the condition. Even those who witness tragedies are known to sometimes suffer from PTSD.

  PTSD can cause symptoms such as nightmares and flashbacks. Those living with the condition may often avoid events or things that remind them of the tragedy.

  Those with PTSD endure a variety of effects. They may have trouble concentrating or may feel nervous. They might be moody or experience sleep deprivation. They may often worry something bad is going to occur, even if there is no need for such concern.

  Many victims experience guilt or shame. They may struggle with the idea they should be able to “get over it”. Victims may have difficulty discussing their fears with others. Some may even feel they inadvertently caused the trauma. Anyone suffering from PTSD should seek professional help.

  Emily consulted a few more articles, making sure to check resources such as medical journals and websites from mental health organizations. They all detailed more or less the symptoms Michael was experiencing.

  He needed help.

  She’d get it for him.

  He might think she was interfering. Hell, he might very well hate her by the time she was done, but her bruised feelings weren’t as important as his peace of mind. He deserved serenity and freedom, and she would do everything in her power to ensure he was never scared to face his past again.

  Emily picked up her phone and dialed her brother Chris’ cell phone. “Hey. I have a question for you. Are you still dating that psychologist?”

  Chapter Nineteen

  “Want to grab lunch?” Despite the pressure building in his head and heart, Michael gave Emily his best smile. Things had been awkward between them last night and it was his fault. He needed t
o make things better. They hadn’t spoken much that morning, both of them wrapped up in their own projects around the house. Having her around, but outside touching distance, made him feel like an amputee pining for his phantom limb.

  “Thanks, but I have to run some errands today.”

  “I could keep you company.”

  She shuffled in her place. “I’m not doing anything exciting, trust me. You’d be bored to tears.”

  “Right. Well, I’ll leave you to it then.” Did he expect she’d jump at the chance to spend extra time with him after he’d turned her away last night? It served him right for being such a nutcase. He wouldn’t blame Emily for wanting out of their fucked-up relationship. He’d gone from treating her like a booty call to practically confessing his love to kicking her out of his bed. “I’ll see you after lunch.”

  “Not if I see you first.” Emily slung her purse over her shoulder and made a silly face.

  He knew she was trying to keep things light, but he spied the tension near her eyes. He hated seeing her concerned.

  As she walked outside, Michael meandered toward the craft service table. Luckily, many of the crew members had chosen to grab a quick lunch from a new food truck parked just around the corner. He didn’t feel like waiting in a long lineup to spend fifteen bucks on a tiny taco, “oohing” and “aahing” over how authentic it tasted. He reached for a turkey club and a cola and headed outside to sit on the porch.

  Sometimes he was an ass. Hopefully he hadn’t managed to alienate Emily with his stubborn behavior. His brothers were right. He was pig-headed and liked things his own way, even if it was to his own detriment. Emily had merely been trying to help yesterday, asking him to consider Lacey’s idea, and he’d shut her out.

  Michael didn’t care if he offended a thousand TV producers and directors, but he wouldn’t hurt Em for the world.

  He was falling for her hard and against his better judgment. Not that loving her proved bad judgment. If anything, it was the smartest thing he’d ever done. She was perfect for him. He’d known it from day one. Her smiles and laughter had confirmed it, and having her sweet body in his bed had sealed the deal.

  Their relationship was moving quickly, probably a lot more quickly than his comfort level preferred, but he’d never been one to do things halfway. He was an all-or-nothing sort of man, in work and in life.

  If he could just make Emily understand, he’d feel a lot better.

  Maybe it was time he tried to face what happened to him a year ago.

  The moment he considered it, the familiar ache lanced through his frontal lobe. His automatic reaction was to reach inside his pants pocket for his bottle of pills, but he remembered Nick had taken it at the Bamboo Gigolo and hadn’t yet given it back.

  “Dammit.” Michael put aside his sandwich, braced his elbows on his knees and breathed in and out.

  If he could just find something to take the edge off…

  He jumped to his feet as he remembered the kit he kept stored in his truck. Surely he had some pills in there. He unlocked the vehicle, rummaged in the trunk and pulled out the kit. His hands were shaking so much he almost wrenched the zipper right off the case. He whipped it open and poked through the contents.

  There were two headache medicine bottles inside, both of them empty. They’d been full not too long ago.

  Bile surged into Michael’s throat but he choked it back. How many goddamn pills had he taken lately? Disappointed in himself, feeling like a junkie, he dropped the first aid kit and slammed the trunk shut.

  As the pain intensified, he almost fell to his knees, right there in front of his pickup. As imaginary blades sliced through his skull, he was sure he was losing his mind.

  Jane Ashton appeared before him, her torso bloodied and torn. She put one hand on her hip. Michael, there are worse things than losing your mind. She shrugged. You could be dead.

  She was right. He could be dead.

  * * * *

  “Em, meet Priya.”

  “Wow.” Emily shook the psychologist’s hand, appreciating her firm handshake and direct gaze. “You’re not what I anticipated.”

  Priya slid her glasses down her nose and looked over them. “Let me guess. You expected some sweet young thing who hangs on your brother’s every word?”

  “Yeah, pretty much.”

  “Hey.” Chris put up a hand. “I don’t think I appreciate the picture you two are painting.”

  “We know you so well, babe.” Priya patted his hand. “And I do hang on the odd word.”

  They chatted as they ordered and while waiting for their food to arrive. It wasn’t long before Emily and Priya were laughing and trading stories about Chris. As much as he scowled and fussed, he sat close to Priya and his hand strayed often toward hers. Emily was happy for her brother. He’d met his match, a smart woman who gave as good as she got. Watching Priya tease Chris was much more amusing than she’d ever thought it would be and they looked cute together.

  They finished their meal. Chris rubbed his flat belly. “I feel like treating myself to dessert.”

  “You always do,” said Priya. “I’ve never known you to refuse anything sweet.”

  Chris grinned, his eyes lighting up with mischief.

  Emily cut him off as he opened his mouth to speak. “Let’s change the topic. I’m already uncomfortable.”

  “Fine,” he said. “Cheesecake all around?”

  Emily shook her head, too full to eat another bite, and Priya did the same. While Chris tried to decide on which flavor he wanted to order, Priya leaned over and spoke to Emily in a lowered voice.

  “Chris told me about your friend, Michael. You suspect PTSD?”

  Emily nodded and told her about the tragedy Michael had witnessed.

  “Sounds about right. And he’s resisted getting professional help?”

  “So far. He said he visited a doctor…once. He doesn’t think he needs one. He thinks he should be able to shake it off.”

  “I admire his determination, but it won’t work in this case.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Memories are powerful, but traumatic memories even more so. Stifling them doesn’t help. Michael needs to learn to quietly contemplate what happened so those recollections don’t erupt from him like a ball of fire. The more he can face the memory of the trauma in a safe environment, the less power it will have over him.”

  “I want to help him, but I don’t know what to do. He says he just wants to forget everything happened.”

  Priya reached for her hand and squeezed it. “It’s understandable. Many people suffer alone for years. Some never learn how to manage. Make no mistake, Emily. People like Michael do suffer. They re-experience those memories over and over, and in the heat of the moment, they’re unable to differentiate between real time and what happened in the past. Someone like Michael would live in a state of hypervigilance.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Hypervigilance is common among soldiers. They are constantly on the lookout for danger. Even when the danger has subsided, they can’t shut off the warning signs. They see potential for disaster everywhere. They can’t sleep. They have nightmares. They might startle easily or have difficulty concentrating. Can you imagine how exhausting that must be?”

  “But Michael isn’t a veteran. Would he experience all the same symptoms?”

  “People can develop PTSD from so many traumatic situations. Michael may not have carried a gun for his job, but every day he fights a war inside his mind.”

  “I wish he’d stayed in treatment before. It might have helped.”

  “I can’t blame him for his skepticism. Even in the healthcare community, there isn’t enough awareness about the disorder. The good news is it’s treatable. I realize I haven’t met Michael myself, but based on what you and Chris have told me, I think he would benefit from some cognitive therapy. Another option is group therapy. There are some amazing programs out there right now. I’d be happy to give Michael a referral. In
fact, I know someone in the field who was an army doc. I think he would relate to him well.”

  “Thank you, but he might resist. How do I encourage him?”

  “Above all, be patient. There’s no quick fix for PTSD. Those who suffer from it often feel as if they’ve lost all control. Michael is likely seeking to gain some of that control back in handling it himself.”

  “From what I’ve seen, he does like to take charge.”

  “I’m sure he does. In the meantime, stay positive for him. Listen to him and encourage him to talk. It sounds as if he’s shared more with you than with anyone else so far. That’s a good sign.”

  Emily nodded.

  “See if you can distract him. Help him spend time away from people and things that remind him of the trauma.”

  “The anniversary of the shooting is coming up.”

  “Ah.” Priya hummed. “That’ll be a tough twenty-four hours for him. It would be great if he had some pleasant distractions that day.”

  “I can do that. I can take him out, keep him busy. Would that help?”

  “It would, and I’m sure he’d appreciate it, but Emily, make sure you take care of yourself as well. Okay? Don’t neglect your own feelings. You mustn’t feel badly if you can’t give Michael all the support he needs. At the end of the day, it would be best if he gets professional help.”

  “Understood.”

  The cheesecake arrived, a dripping concoction of crème and cherries. Chris grinned and held up three forks.

  Priya leaned over and kissed him, snatching forks for her and Emily. “I’m very fond of your brother, Emily, even though he is a bad influence.”

  “Yeah.” Emily stabbed the cheesecake and popped it into her mouth. “He’s the worst.”

  * * * *

  When Emily returned to the set, Michael could have sworn she brought the sun with her. He’d been in a foul mood the entire lunchtime. His head had hurt so much he was willing to bet the devil was up there, wearing cleats and tap dancing. He hadn’t been able to dislodge the image of Jane’s broken body from his head. Even going for a walk around the block hadn’t helped.