I Hate to Stand Alone by Casey Winter

Author:Casey Winter [Winter, Casey]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-05-27T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fifteen

Luke

I take the steps two at a time, needing to get out of here, needing to get some air and see the sky. I feel trapped. I feel ashamed. I feel … I feel, and that’s the problem.

I’m supposed to keep that dark part of me hidden from the world, locked in a box inside myself. I was so good, making sure I never fell asleep around Hannah, making sure she never had to see me like that. But just now, I made it all about me. Her mother is sick and I let myself relax. I made it all about my messed up problems, my past, gun smoke and blood and pain.

I made it about that mission that haunts me every night of my life, that never lets me rest.

I pace across the main lobby and through the automatic doors, sucking in night-cold air. But I don’t feel my head clear. I just feel more muddled, more pathetic.

People with the sorts of problems I have are always told they shouldn’t think this way about themselves. They’re told to accept and forgive themselves. They’re told that it’s natural, a normal part of being human.

Screw that.

I’m a Navy SEAL, dammit. I’m supposed to have a bulletproof mind. I’m supposed to be carved from steel, unbreakable. I let Hannah in, and she saw me, just for a moment, the real me.

The soldier. The mercenary. The fighter.

I end up just pacing up and down in front of the hospital, not trusting myself to drive right now. I think about calling Morgan. But Morgan has always been colder than a tundra, frozen to the middle. The scars in his mind were made early, when he saw his family burn to death in front of his eyes. He’s never let himself get emotional. He barely even smiles. We’re not the same, me and Morgan.

I don’t think I can speak to him right now. I’d feel stupid, bothering him with this. I keep thinking, over and over, I fell asleep. How did I let myself get so comfortable? How was Hannah’s touch so home-like, so welcoming, that I drifted into the pain I knew would be waiting for me in unconsciousness?

Vignettes from my tours are superimposed over this quiet night. In the yellow glow of the hospital lights, I see muzzle flash. In the light wind, I hear a thousand screaming voices. In the scent of the trees and the bleach stink of the hospital, I smell combat.

I turn at the sound of approaching footsteps. It’s Hannah, her expression so concerned and forgiving I can’t look at her for long. It threatens to make me feel again, to break down my defenses. “Luke,” she says quietly, putting her hand out. “Please, don’t do this. You don’t have to—I’m not judging you. I don’t think any less of you.”

My fists are clenched so damn hard, my fingers are jabbing into my palms. My breathing won’t slow down. I’d feel sorry for Jock Hanlon if he chose this moment to come swaggering into my life.

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