Strategically placed photos line the credenza behind Jackson’s desk. A picture of him, Catherine, his daughter, and a few others I figure are of his sister and parents. Another with the Virginia team.
That’s the one thing about the SEALs. It’s not just a brotherhood, it’s a family you would do anything for.
“If you need me to do anything while you’re gone, just let me know.”
“I appreciate it.” He turns to face me as he clears his throat. “Glad you decided to come here. Dempsey told me what happened to you in Sudan. The RPG. Matt Teals. Your injury.”
Shrapnel images pierce my skull, then a tic of my jaw. I stand to my feet and wave the folder in my hands. “I’ll make sure I have Natalie book my flight and hotel,” I say, deflecting the conversation.
“Brody, can you sit for a moment?” Jackson motions to the chair as he levels his eyes at me. I can feel it coming, or rather hear it coming and I’d prefer getting back to work.
“I’m sorry to hear what happened to Teals. He was a good man.”
“Yes. He was.”
“How’s his wife? Laura, right?”
“Yes. She’s fine. They’re taken care of,” I answer bluntly.
“And you?”
“I don’t want to talk about this.”
“Why not?” he asks, his tone serious.
I narrow my eyes at Jackson, wondering where this is going. I know he cares and he’s also probing, but for what? I drag my hand through my hair and let out an annoyed breath.
“We’re not going to talk about my feelings and have a kumbaya moment, are we?”
“I’ve been where you are, Brody. Shutting down. Not wanting to talk about the shit that fucks with your head. Some of us deal with it better than others.”
“There’s nothing to talk about.”
Jackson’s glare locks onto my eyes. “You avoiding this subject clearly tells me there is something to talk about.”
“What are you, my shrink or my boss?” I bite back, fully aware I’m being sarcastic when he doesn’t deserve it.
“I’m the reason you haven’t been sent to the sandbox to help with the team.”
“You’re fucking kidding, right? That’s why I’m playing desk-jockey, filling orders, instead of where I’m needed, doing something I’m good at? Boots on the ground with the rest of the guys?”
“We’re contractors now. We assist. We aren’t military anymore and even though you were good at being a SEAL . . . I don’t think you’re ready. I want your head straight and that’s why I want you to train with the operators when you’re in Virginia.”
“Look, Jackson,” I say calmly and place the folder back on his desk. “I’m fine.”
“Fine . . . famous last word.”
“That mission. It was a complete failure,” I snap.
Silence fills the room as I scrub my face with my palms. When I look up, Jackson’s back is leaning on the opposing wall, arms crossed over his chest. The weight of his stare is heavy as he anticipates my answer.
“It’s how we conduct ourselves after a fall that defines us, Brody.”
“Well, this is how I operate,” I state, shrugging off his stare. “And if I talk about it, to you or to a shrink, I’m afraid I’ll heal. And if I heal, I’ll forget. I don’t want to forget what happened. It was either him or the damn reporters I was protecting. I made the wrong choice.”
“Right or wrong, you made a choice, which was following your orders. Teals made his choice.”
“I should have stopped him. I should have made him wait.”
“What were you going to do? Hold his hand?”
“That was the only time I ever wore my dress blues,” I say as I close my eyes for a moment.
“You’re lucky. I’ve worn mine too many times.”
“None of us should ever have to wear it,” I mutter.
“You’re right . . . none of us should ever have to wear it. But when you signed on, you knew the risk. We only hope we never have to wear the uniform that represents death and bad news when we face the families left behind,” Jackson chokes out. “Trust me, man. I understand more than you’ll ever know. The one question you need to ask yourself is how are you going to learn from your loss?”
I stare at Jackson, jaws clenched as I sink into the chair. Too much shit spins in my fucked-up head—the night terrors and the whiskey I drink every night to fall asleep only to wake up still exhausted.
“Matt was my best friend. His boys are my godsons. His wife is like a sister and now a widow.” My voice cracks while I hold back the tears while the turmoil and guilt churn in my chest.
As much as I want to punch a wall, I can’t. Jackson’s right. I need to let him go and forgive myself.
“I’m not trying to get all spiritual on you. Believe me, I’m the last person who should. But you got a second chance, man. Have you ever thought about that? There was a time I blamed myself for everything. That burden weighed a fucking ton.” Jackson takes a pause. “Think about the people who are still here, Laura and her boys, your sister, your dad. Now, think about your future.”
A vision of Dee hits me full force. I think back to the other night when I walked her home. The pepper spray aiming at me and how adorable she looked.
Lost in thoughts of her, I’m snapped out of it when Jackson slaps my shoulder. “Tell you what . . . take the rest of the day off, Reinhardt.” He walks over to his open door and motions for me to get out. “Get a head start on your weekend. Go grab a beer, hang out with a friend, clear your head. I’ll meet you back here on Monday and go over some details before I leave for Germany.”
Chapter Fourteen
Delilah
I stare at myself in the bathroom mirror with just my jeans and bra on. The lights give me no justice and make my skin look paler than I really am.
“I look like hell,” I call out to Sydney as I apply mascara to my lashes. I can hear the hangers scrape the wooden rod as she sifts through my closet.
“I think you should wear this white top.” She strolls in the bathroom holding a button-down satin blouse with a few creases on the front of it. “I’ll steam it for you.”
“It’s not too dressy or revealing?” My eyes motion to the low dip of the blouse. “I haven’t been this nervous to go on a date since—”
“Don’t you even say it,” she snaps. “I forbid you and may lightning strike you if you say or think of him ever again.”
“You’re so dramatic, Syd.”
She giggles. “And I’m so happy Brody is making you nervous in a good way. You need this night out.”
“It just feels weird to go out with a guy without having to feel like I need to watch my back.”
“All the more reason to just be you.” She cups my face with her hand. “Brody’s one of the good guys.”
“And how do you know?”
“I saw Bryan at the coffee shop yesterday and I asked about him. And from what I gathered, he works for a reputable private security company.”