Aaron jerked into awareness as his cell phone went off Thursday while he was reading a novel. He staggered to his feet and went to the kitchen counter where the cell was plugged into a charger.
His mother’s name showed on the screen. “Hey, Mom.”
“Hello, sweetie. Are you okay? You sound funny.”
He cleared his rusty throat. “Was deep into a book.”
“Oh, my gosh. I’m sorry. Should I call you later?”
He walked toward the couch and sank down. “No, it’s okay. I’ve got group therapy tonight.”
“That’s right. How could I forget?”
“I dunno. Maybe because you’ve got a life and have things to do?” He injected humor into his tone.
“You’re my son, that’s why. I’ve just been so busy.”
“When are you not busy? If you don’t watch out, you’ll get an ulcer like Dad.”
She sighed. “I know, I know. He’s making me promise to slow down too. I just fear that…”
Ah, hell. “What?”
“That he won’t listen to me. He’ll just tell me what I want to hear to get me off his back.”
“You’ve never been much of a nagger, Mom.”
She laughed, but there was no humor in it. “Sweetie, you haven’t been around us every minute of every day for years. You’ve spent a large part of twenty years fighting a war. I’ve nagged him, all right. Way more than I should.”
Damn. “You’re right. I haven’t been around much. Until now.” When she didn’t speak, he filled in with, “Everything all right, Mom?”
“Actually, better than I expected. I wanted to tell you that your Dad and I are officially signed up for marriage counseling as of next week. He’s also going to take a stress reduction class and learn meditation.”
Relief and happiness swept over him. Sometimes shit did work. Not every shoe had to drop. He closed his eyes. “That’s great news. It’ll be interesting to see if he takes to the meditation.”
“I think he’ll kick and scream the whole way. He calls it mamby pamby girly stuff.”
Yeah, he probably called it mamby pamby girly shit. “I might have thought of it that way at one time too.”
“And now?”
“I think it’s a great tool. Maybe I should do more of it myself. Tell Dad I’ll meditate if he will.”
She laughed. “Okay. I’ll try that. How are you, Aaron?”
He told her about the letter he’d written and how Lana had helped him, how he’d managed to choke out the words to the therapy group. “It about killed me, but I did it.”
“That’s wonderful, Aaron. I mean, not wonderful that it was so traumatic, but fantastic that you’ve seen some progress.”
With confidence he said, “I’ve seen more than some. I feel a lot different. A lot better.”
He wasn’t lying. Since Tuesday, since he’d told the truth in the letter and held Lana in his arms, he’d felt almost like a new man.
“So you feel the therapy is worth it?” she asked.
Once he would have said hell no. “Yeah. It’s been the right thing for me. I’m glad the judge made me do it.”
“And Lana? It seems like you really like her.”
Hell, marine. You’re on a roll with the truth. “Yeah. She’s wonderful.”
He imagined his mother’s huge grin when she said, “Bring her over for dinner sometime.”
A tiny part of him panicked. No way was he bringing her home to meet the parents until Lana felt comfortable. “I think we have a bit to go before that happens.”
“Well, okay. But the invite is open. I’d love to meet her. She sounds lovely.”
“Right. If I brought her to dinner, you’d invite everyone in the family and scare the crap outta her.”
“That’s tripe. She sounds like a strong woman. I’m sure she could take on our family with one hand tied behind her back.”
“You’re right. She probably could.”
Aaron shared a laugh with his mother, and shortly after they hung up. He glanced at the clock. Time to eat something before heading out for therapy. His cell rang again. Cruz was calling.
”Hey you old son of a bitch, what’s going on?” Cruz asked.
“Getting ready to eat peanut butter.”
“Damn, that’s exciting.”
“Better than an MRE. Helps me keep my girlish figure.”
Cruz laughed. “You’re so full of shit.”
“Yeah, yeah. So tell me something I don’t know.”
“Well, I don’t know if there’s anything you don’t know. You’re always telling me how fucking smart you are.”
They laughed together, and Aaron realized he’d neglected his friendship with his old buddy too. “I’m sorry, dude.”
“What about? That you’re so superior to the rest of us?”
“Yeah, there’s that.”
Cruz barked another laugh.
“No, seriously,” Aaron said. “I’m sorry I haven’t called you much since I left the Corps. I’ll do better from now on. We were always tight, and I’ve…I’ve fucked that up.”
“There’s no way you could fuck up our friendship, dude. I know what’s happening to you now. I won’t dump you on your ass when you need help.”
Aaron sighed, relieved. “Thanks, buddy. I appreciate it. Still, I’ll do better. I’ll call more often.”
“That would be sweet. Besides, who else is willing to listen to all my bullshit war stories but you? My wife sure as hell isn’t.”
Aaron told Cruz about Magnus acting weird around Lana and the interesting dynamics of the therapy group. They jack jawed until Aaron realized if he didn’t get on the stick, he’d be late for therapy. “I have to pop smoke. I like to get there early so Lana doesn’t have to be around that ass Magnus by herself.”
“The guy sounds like a weirdo.”
“That’s an understatement.”
They signed off shortly afterward.
As Aaron sat at the kitchen table eating a quick peanut butter sandwich, he thought over Tuesday night with Lana and what he’d said to her. She was special, and every moment longer that he spent time with her carved a new place inside him. She did nutty things to his head, made him see things in different ways, opened his eyes to possibilities he hadn’t considered before. Yeah, the therapy helped in that direction as well, but how fuckin’ dull therapy would be without her there. He’d realized, as he’d read that letter out loud on Tuesday, that she’d comforted him and made him a better person.
He wanted to see her, be with her, hold her. And yes, he wanted to have sex with her and to take Raul’s memory and grind it into dust. Yet he’d meant every word. He would fall on his sword before he hurt Lana, and he sure as hell wouldn’t push her into sex.
He’d seen an equal hunger in her eyes when they kissed—he knew she wanted him too. Knowing that she wanted him was making it difficult. He’d gone home Tuesday night and jacked off in the shower. Fuck, he seemed to be stroking his own wood at least twice a week because she drove him that crazy. He’d known lust before, and it had never twisted him up this way.
He didn’t know what the hell to do. She could tell him, after therapy was over, to get out of her life. Oh, sure. She’d be nice. She’d let him down easily. And if she let him go, he’d feel like shit. Still, he’d give her whatever space she wanted and needed. He’d leave her life if that was what she wanted.
He glanced at the clock and realized he needed to get on the road. With that in mind, he finished the sandwich and left the apartment.
He arrived early, and there was Lana sitting in her car. Eagerness hit him as he saw her brilliant smile. Jesus, MacPherson, you’ve got it bad. A strange euphoria enveloped him, and even though it should have hit him before, he thought he understood something new he should have recognized before. Ever since the first day he’d met her, she’d carved a special place inside him that couldn’t be replaced with any other woman. A strange panic mixed with heady realization. Oh, man. Am I in love with her?
He’d liked other women before, but this staggering sensation of lust, admiration, caring, and yes…possession, slammed him like a two-by-four to the head. He fucking couldn’t imagine his world anymore without her in it. Good deal, MacPherson. Here he’d fought not long ago to keep his emotional distance. Yet she’d stormed his gates and knocked him right on his ass. Give it up, you’re going down for the count.
Fear had a hand in it as well. What if she told him to take a flying leap? He wouldn’t pressure her, of course, but there was always the possibility she didn’t feel as strongly as he did. He almost snorted. Damn. He could face whatever the military threw at him, but not the possibility he could care for Lana Burns more than he had any other woman…ever.
He parked next to her. As they got out of their respective vehicles, eagerness to touch her made him heady with emotion. Emotion at least as powerful as the anger he’d lived with in his life for far too long. It soothed the beast in him, the one that had lashed out at the dipwad at the restaurant.
“Hi,” she said softly, her smile sweet.
“Hey.” He slipped his fingers into her hair and tucked it behind her ear. As his touch brushed her flesh, she shivered.
Her smile grew. “How are you?”
“Best I’ve been since…” He shrugged. “Best I’ve ever been, I think.”
Her smile faded only a degree. “Oh? Good news?”
How did he say this? Could he say this standing in a parking lot? And which part of his feelings could he mention? “Yeah, very good news. Want to hang out tonight? I could tell you about it then.”
She moved closer to him, and she patted his shoulder. “Sounds wonderful.”
He reached for her hand and brought it to his mouth. He pressed a tender kiss to her fingers. “Damn, woman. Just touching you is making me crazy.”
She waggled her eyebrows at him. “Wait. I thought it was too late. Aren’t you already crazy?”
He gave a low growl and cupped the back of her neck. “You calling me nutty?”
“Yeah, but so am I.”
He drew her against him and pressed a slow, gentle kiss to her lips. She responded, and he almost took the kiss deeper. She drew back, her smile so warm and accepting he felt it all the way through his being.
Before he could confess something, anything, Roxanne and Magnus showed up in Magnus’s car and parked under a tree at the farthest end of the lot.
Aaron released Lana as he stared at the new arrivals. “Interesting.”
“Isn’t it, though.”
Roxanne and Magnus appeared to be in an animated discussion, but not the good kind. Magnus was in the driver’s seat, gesturing with both hands. Roxanne’s expression wasn’t visible as she stared down at her lap.
Lana’s fingers brushed over Aaron’s T-shirt. “Looks like he’s giving her an earful.”
“That’s weird as hell. Are they together or something?”
Lana edged closer to Aaron, and he slipped his arm around her waist.
“Roxanne told me the other day that they’re together,” she said.
Aaron snorted. “You’re shittin’ me.”
“No.”
He grunted. “Here comes everyone else. Want to go in before the odd couple accosts us?”
“Please.”
Aaron released her as they went up the stairs and into the building. He settled into a chair to Lana’s left. Today was the first time he’d walked into group therapy lacking his usual cynicism. Richard and Eliot walked in a few moments later, and Addy a second after that. Everyone was ten minutes early today, and a general conversation started. Addy didn’t mention Magnus and Roxanne, but maybe she hadn’t seen them together. Magnus came in a short time later without Roxanne, and he looked sweaty. He sat next to Addy.
Something, he didn’t know what to call it, prickled at the back of Aaron’s neck. A niggling urge to take action. He’d felt this way a few times since he’d left the military—hell, left the Middle East. He understood it came from the PTSD. A desire to put his back against the wall so no one could sneak up on him. His instincts screamed at him. Tension tightened his muscles.
Where the hell is this coming from? Get a grip.
Roxanne glided in a few moments later, and the feeling inside Aaron rose even higher.
*
Lana glanced over at Aaron—his right leg was bouncing up and down. Hmm. Well, he was a man, and in her experience many men had that nervous energy thing where their legs bounced or they drummed their fingers on desks. Maybe he hadn’t burned off his extra energy with a five-mile run and workout. She’d seen Aaron do it before during a session, though not every session. Magnus twiddled his thumbs, an equal nervousness in his expression. Curiosity took her gaze to Aaron’s face. The warmth and gentleness when he’d kissed her had fallen to that serious and ready-for-combat face. Why?
She refused to internalize. Just because he had a case of the ADHD didn’t mean she must. But God, everything about this man was affecting her. When she stood near him earlier, she got a whiff of his musk aftershave or cologne. She didn’t think he was the type to wear cologne, but whatever it was, it was subtle and sent her libido into overdrive. When he’d taken her hand and kissed it, and when he’d smiled and his eyes had smoldered, she’d wanted to drag him away and make love.
He’d appeared more vulnerable than she’d ever seen him, on the edge of a new adventure. The small lines around his eyes, the hardcore experience carved in his face by twenty years in the military, had softened. She’d hoped against hope that maybe, just maybe, she’d put that expression on his face. He was more affectionate, touched her more often. If she was honest with herself, she loved it and craved more.
Her amorous thoughts disappeared when the group session started. Seeing Roxanne and Magnus arrive together surprised her, though perhaps it shouldn’t. After all, Roxanne had confessed they had a relationship. That blew Lana away. Not the age difference so much. Some older women liked younger men and vice versa. Yet their personalities seemed too different. Lana did a mental shrug.
Addy started the session and urged Magnus to read his letter.
Magnus opened his black nylon briefcase and zipped it up hastily, as if something might escape. He cleared his throat and pulled out a single sheet of what looked like printer paper.
“I only wrote this letter last night. You’ve already heard me mention my stepfather, but there’s more to it than that. I was bullied when I was a kid too. Seems I have it written all over my face. Bully Magnus. It happened right from grade school. I’ve always had trouble with my weight. I wore glasses, had braces, all that at one time when I was seven. I was a convenient target. This was before bullying was on everyone’s radar and all these lame-assed people started talking about it as if it was a new invention just because of Facebook and Twitter. Anyway, back to the weight, glasses, and braces. Yeah, my mother provided those things for my health, while all the time she wouldn’t defend me against my stepfather. That wound was always fresh, the scab ripped off every day as my stepfather messed with me and no one would do a damned thing. I digress, though. Because my stepfather messing with me wasn’t the end of it. I figured when I went to college and got my software engineering degree, there wasn’t anything people could do to me. I was so wrong. I tried joining a fraternity, but I didn’t pass the cruel hazing. I moved to an apartment off campus, but my social life sucked. It’s not as if I stink, as if I don’t bathe and brush my teeth. I’m scrupulous. Women wouldn’t give me the time of day, even the ugliest ones. So I gave up on dating and used whores when I could pay for a high-priced one. I didn’t want some disease. I’ve only had two employers, and I’ve worked at each of them for a long time. The first one the problems were the same as everything else in my life. I get no respect from anyone. Sure, my employers always paid me well, so that was the only thing I had going for me. Once I get in a job, I do great work. Most people are freaking lazy, though, and because I work hard, everyone wanted to dump the work on me. So the reward is money, but the torture is more work. So what’s the point? I’ve seen dumb assed people get accommodations and awards for doing less than half the work I do. All because they’re pretty, look good, and they know how to play the political game. It’s a crock of shit. I’ve spent all my life trying to get help, trying to make everyone out there understand that I’m a victim. Because I am. Well today I rectify that problem once and for all.”
Silence dropped over the room, and a strange apprehension settled low in Lana’s stomach. Weird as hell. What is this guy saying? Lana glanced at Aaron.
His face was hard, his attention riveted on Magnus. Aaron’s leg no longer bounced. He possessed a quiet stillness that made nervous butterflies dart and flit around in her stomach. He watched the other man with an intensity that was unwavering.
“Are you leaving the group?” Elliot asked, his face a mask of consternation.
“Give it some more time, Magnus,” Richard said, looking concerned.
Addy’s lips parted, her expression cautious. “Magnus, I’m sorry you’re still feeling little progress here in the group. How can we help you to be more comfortable?”
Magnus smirked. “You can’t.”
Addy leaned forward slightly. “Magnus, can we talk outside for a moment?”
Magnus’s stubborn expression didn’t alter. “I’d rather hear Roxanne’s letter. Then I’ll talk with you outside.”
Addy appeared puzzled, but she nodded. “All right. Are you ready to read your letter Roxanne?”
Roxanne nodded, her demeanor as cool and collected as Lana had ever seen her. Maybe she didn’t find her boyfriend’s attitude disturbing?
“I’m ready.” Roxanne unfolded a paper she’d been holding in her lap. She rattled the paper a little, as if stalling for time. Yet when she started to read, there was nothing hesitant in her words. “My life split apart the night I decided that my lover telling me he was marrying another was the last straw. He was an art professor at a university, and I was retired from civil service. He was a young man about fifteen years my junior. He’d gone back to Maine to visit his parents and recover from car accident injuries. When we talked on the phone off and on, he pretended like nothing was wrong or different. But a month into his visit with his parents, he told me he’d met another woman and they were going to marry. I wished him well, hung up, and drank an entire bottle of wine on my own. I got into my car to head to a bar—yes, I was going to drink more. That’s when I ran the stoplight and hit another car going sixty. When I woke up in the hospital, I had few injuries, but the ninety-year-old lady I killed, that was another story. The only thing that kept me from being in jail even longer was that the authorities discovered the old woman had also been drinking and didn’t have a license. What are the chances of that? So the five years I spent in prison over her death seems like a short time, but I think it should have been even less. After all, what was she doing on the road? Also, she was so damned old. I have a lot of life left. Well, I did anyway. Some people say that death and misery follow me wherever I go. They talk about how I’m always lamenting my situation, but I never do anything to change it. I say that’s totally ridiculous. Bad things happen to me, but I never have anything to do with it. I have a black cloud over my head that follows me, true. It isn’t my fault. I wouldn’t have these problems but for the crap my parents put me through when I was a child. Though I’d never say so myself, my friends always tell me that I have remarkable resilience. When I was ten, my father sexually abused me. I didn’t tell any of you that before because I didn’t think it was relevant to our discussion of PTSD. Yet as time goes on in group therapy, I see maybe that it does. Anyway, even when bad things do happen, I never go down without a fight. I think tonight is going to be that way. You see, I’m tired of other people getting away with crap. With other people always getting the attention, even when they are clearly inferior to me. Most of you will wonder why I’m about to do this, but I think I like the idea that you’ll never know all the reasons. I think it’s just funny sometimes that crazy people do crazy things and we don’t know why.”
Lana didn’t have time to take a breath before Roxanne made them all understand what she meant.