“I know.” I rested my head on his shoulder, and he wrapped his arm around my waist. He was Ryker for a moment, and I had to drink it in. “And they almost took you, too.”
It was the first time we ever talked about Ryker getting shot, or about Lucas, since the day we went to his grave. Anxiety fell in tears from my eyes. Tosha closed her laptop and looked at me, then the door. I nodded that it was okay that she left, so she did.
“When your mom called me, Ry,” I continued, “I lost it. I thought it was the call. Tosha had to come get me and drive me home . . .”
He sighed and rested his chin on my head. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, “I didn’t know-”
“You don’t need to be sorry for fuck’s sake, you got shot. You didn’t have a choice. But, you have one now.”
Ryker sat up and shook his head. “I don’t, Nat. Lucas wasn’t the only one who died in that attack.”
I’d learned from his dad and the news, that five men died that day. I couldn’t honestly wrap my head around how he thought going back overseas was a healthy decision.
“Are you still having nightmares?”
“My dad says they’ve calmed down. He hasn’t had to wake me up for one in a little while.”
I met his eyes and found him there, waiting for me to understand. “I’m worried about you, Ryker. Your moods are all over the place, you don’t remember things that happened yesterday—”
He cut me off with a shout, “I know! Don’t you think I know? Do you have any idea what it’s like to be inside my head?” His neck turned bright red under his sudden rage.
I slowly slid off my bed and put myself between where he sat and my door.
“I don’t, Ryker. You don’t talk to me. I’m just worried that with everything going on in your head, if you’re sent over there again . . .”
“What are you doing?” Ryker stood and walked toward me.
“What do you mean?”
Ryker’s voice cracked. “Do I scare you?”
I gave a pitiful shrug, “I don’t know what you—”
“I shouted and you headed for the door . . .”
I looked to the floor, knowing I had to say it, but not wanting to see his reaction. “It’s been kind of hard predicting your actions lately, you know.” Looking back up, I saw him run a hand back and forth over his head a few times.
“I’m sorry . . .”
We stood in tense silence, and everything screamed at me to run. Well, to kick him out and just go on with my life. Classes were well under way and I didn’t know how much longer I could balance that life with the life of a soldier who was probably suffering from PTSD.
PTSD.
Tosha and I had been talking about it, and my very minute research suggested that was exactly what was going on with Ryker. I didn’t know what to do, until I looked into his eyes.
In a flash, I was flooded with images of the boy I’d met on the common over two years ago. He was wearing the same t-shirt, taking me in with the same painfully beautiful blue eyes that made me approach him without nerves, and biting the same bottom lip that kissed me for the first time—seconds after we first met. He was still in there, and I couldn’t walk away.
Instead, I took two steps toward him, and watched him exhale. “You don’t need to be sorry, Ryker. I just want you to get some help, okay? Promise me.”
Ryker took me into his arms and nodded. I breathed in his clean scent, not wanting him to leave.
“Will you stay here tonight?” I asked without a second of hesitation.
Ryker lifted my chin and kissed my lips with a softness I thought he no longer possessed. “I don’t want to stay anywhere else. Thank you for standing by me. . . I don’t deserve you.”
I smiled in his presence for the first time in a while. “Don’t talk about yourself like that. I deserve you, and you deserve me.”
“I love you, Natalie.”
“I love you too, Ryker.”
That was the first time we’d said “I love you” to each other since the night he first came home. He hoisted me up and I wrapped my legs around his waist as we kissed all the way to my bed. When he set me down, we quickly tore off our clothes and he paused. He looked me over like it was our first time, passion pouring from his eyes.
“I love you so much,” he whispered into my ear before making another move.
It felt like our first time. It felt hopeful. It was, in fact, the first time I’d felt hope for him and us since he’d come home. God, it was perfect . . .
*
Several hours later, Eric’s mom picked Oliver up from the Audiologist once his tests were complete, so we could chat with the doctor uninterrupted. Eric showed up halfway through the exam and looked like he’d been through the ringer. He said they were moving offices and the elevators were down.
It’s seriously always something.