He glanced over at Alex in time to see his face soften.
“Look, I get it. Guys like us aren’t programmed to ask for help. I’m not saying it’s easy, or that I’d be first in line myself. But I want you to know that the leadership of this task unit is as committed to your mental health as we are to the physical side. We’re here for you, George, so come to us.”
Yeah, right. Sure. And have the guys think he was weak, or that he considered himself worse off than anyone else. They all had shit to deal with. He wasn’t special.
“Thanks, Master Chief,” Geo managed. He paused. “Am I, uh, still getting on the plane?”
Alex nodded as he clapped him on the shoulder. “You’d better be on that fuckin’ plane. See you in a few hours.”
After he’d driven off, Geo leaned against the bed of his truck, hands stuffed in his pockets. He shivered in the cool night air, jaw throbbing, his head aching from the effects of too much alcohol and too little sleep. God, what a fucking mess.
Tilting his head back, he stared at the predawn sky. His life choices really sucked ass. If he’d accepted Lani’s invitation, none of this would be happening. Instead, he was hung over, beat up and lurking in a deserted parking lot at four in the morning.
At least the bar had declined to press charges, since there hadn’t been any damage done and he’d been the only one injured. He reached up to probe the bruise on his jaw, wincing in both pain and shame.
Tonight he’d acted like the worst kind of thug, accosting and intimidating someone who clearly wasn’t a threat. A douche and a liar, for sure, but not a threat. In that moment, with his anger raging out of control, he’d thought it okay to set Tariq’s safety aside in order to “expose” an asshole and “save” a woman who hadn’t asked to be saved.
All because he’d been looking for a fight. Any fight.
I’m sorry, Tariq. I’m sorry, Lani.
On a tidal wave of remorse, Geo texted them both. He stuck his phone in his pocket not expecting any reply, and when it buzzed loudly, it startled him so much he jumped. Heart pounding, he pulled it back out and stared at the screen.
Believe me, I’ve my share of ambush moments. No apology necessary.
Geo pinched the bridge of his nose, Lani’s gentle understanding making his tired eyes burn. Then he sucked in a deep breath and typed, I don’t know how to deal with them. How the fuck do you deal with them?
A pause. By letting them happen. There’s no cure, no way to avoid them, so instead of seeing them as something to run from, I’m learning how to just let them happen.
“Goddammit,” Geo ground out, suddenly wishing he hadn’t started this. He didn’t want to let them happen, he wanted them to leave him alone, to stop making him angry, to stop hurting.
Before he could figure out a way to put a breezy end to the conversation, his phone buzzed again. Since Tyler’s death, even the smell of hot chocolate makes me cry. The other day I was getting a tea at Starbucks when the girl in front of me ordered some. I immediately teared up, and then it hit me. What if my child wants it someday? Am I going to cry every time? Refuse to make it? Fall apart? So I made myself stay in line, made myself smell it. Made myself remember.
A giant fist squeezed his chest.
Tyler fixed it so carefully that day, just the way I liked it. That whole last hour of his life, even as he planned to end it, he took care of me. He made sure I felt loved, and with that hot chocolate, he was also saying goodbye.
A ragged sob escaped from his lips, a single tear tracking its way down his cheek. “Dammit, asshole,” he berated himself, dashing the back of his hand over his face. “You will not do this.”
Choosing to see hot chocolate as love instead of the precursor to horror is helping me and honoring my brother. Does that make sense?
Geo wanted to reply, but his fingers were shaking so badly he couldn’t type. He was about to put his phone away when it buzzed one last time. I know it’s not easy. I know I’m at a different point in my grief journey than you are, but if you want to talk, I’m here, okay? Always.
Lani followed up the text with a heart emoji, and a sudden warmth cut through Geo’s numbness. Thank you.
He slipped his phone in his pocket and swung up into the truck, then dropped his forehead to the steering wheel. Fuck. Once again, he’d managed to spew all over this amazing woman he was coming to admire more and more each day.
With a long exhale, he sat up to turn on the engine. He did have to admit he felt better, though, stronger, less brittle, as if a valve had been opened to release some of the pressure building inside him. What the fight hadn’t managed to do, a simple understanding conversation had.
You shouldn’t dump on her, though. You should find a professional.
Geo’s jaw tightened as all of his tension came roaring back. Right. No matter what Alex said about support, anyone in the teams who openly sought mental health services would immediately be taken out of the deployment rotation. He’d be sidelined and forced to watch his brothers go to war without him.
Hard-earned trust would be lost. He’d have to prove himself again, prove that he wasn’t gonna crack under the strain. They’d all be watching him, waiting for him to fuck up, scrutinizing every move he made, because if he made a wrong one, people could die. In a high-risk, high-consequence environment like special operations, any sign of weakness was taken seriously and dealt with accordingly.
Geo firmed his lips. He wouldn’t let his teammates down. He wouldn’t let himself down. No way. It all ended here.
Time to get a motherfucking grip once and for all.
Chapter Eleven
Beep, beep, beep!
Lani dragged her eyes open and stared at the bedside clock. Ugh. Much too early. Slapping the snooze button, she pulled her pillow over her head. Getting up at ten in the morning after working the closing shift at the bar was nothing but pure torture.
“My bed, too comfortable,” she grumbled. “Me, too tired. Verdict? Just stay home.”
Flopping out her hand, she located the phone tangled up in the covers and pulled it to her. She peered blearily at it for a few seconds before scrolling in search of Maura’s number, thinking she’d just text her with some excuse.
The effort proved too much in the moment, and closing her eyes again, she laid her phone on her chest. “In a minute,” she mumbled. “I’ll do it in a minute.”
Drifting in a most pleasant haze, she yelped as the buzz of a new notification startled her awake again. “Huh?” she gasped. “What?” She fumbled for the phone and forced herself to focus on the message.
The name on it said Geo.
Completely awake in an instant, Lani pushed to sitting and plumped her pillows up behind her, heart thudding painfully. Geo was contacting her? In the weeks since their impromptu text therapy session, she hadn’t heard one word from him. She’d agonized over it, considered calling him, but something deep down told her not to push it.