“You stop and feel, Dan. I know it’s tough for a man who society has trained not to feel, but that’s what you have to do. I’m sure you’re feeling so much, and you’re overwhelmed by it. Am I right?”
He rubbed his chest with his other hand. “Yeah, that pretty much sums it up. How did you deal with it?”
She managed a grin. “Men think their way through stuff. Women feel their way through it. You need to get back in touch with your feelings. Really allow yourself to feel them. You can’t think a feeling away with your mind. Thoughts are thoughts.”
“How do I do that?”
“Dan you can’t approach this from that left-brain thought process you were taught. Thoughts don’t equal emotions.”
She saw him wrestling with her explanation.
“Look, Rome wasn’t rebuilt overnight. This isn’t going to be easy for you. It’s not easy for anyone.”
“Okay,” he grumbled, trying to sort out everything she was saying to him. “This is deep shit, Sloan. I need time to think about it.”
“See? You’ve already shut your heart down by saying that.”
“What do you mean?”
“The heart feels. The mind thinks. Every time you verbally say, ‘I think,’ you’re making your left brain primary. You’re automatically cutting off what your heart knows. If you say I feel instead of I think, you include your feelings. I used my whole brain when I was in black ops. I never deferred to my left-brained thinking. First, I felt out the situation. Then, I thought my way through it. But I used both sides, my heart feelings and the logic of my mind to figure it all out.”
“Damn, this is confusing to me, Sloan.”
“Of course it is,” she laughed. “You’ve been trained your whole life to believe that you only had to think your way through life.” She grinned fully.
Dan released her hand, giving her a sour smile. “I just never thought…felt…about any of this.”
“You’re the one that asked me about it, remember?”
“Yes, I did,” he said, giving her a warm look. “Is there hope for me?”
“Lots of hope,” Sloan whispered, suddenly emotional. She smiled a little and reached over, caressing his jaw. “You look exhausted. You need to rest and maybe nap some more?” Sloan wanted to keep touching Dan because she saw his expression instantly lighten as her fingertips slid along his jaw.
“Yeah, I got a whole lot to chew on,” he grumbled.
“Why don’t you finish your coffee and cookies and then sleep for a bit?”
“What will you be doing?
“Out puttering in the kitchen. Getting our dinner ready. Want me to wake you up at 1700? I usually eat around that time.”
“Yes, that sounds good.”
“How’s your pain level,” she asked easing off the bed and checking the IV drip near his bed.
“Okay.”
“Well, if you start feeling more pain, let me know? I can change the drip rate.”
“You’re an incredible woman, Sloan. I just never appreciated all of who you are.”
Her heart did a flip-flop in her chest, and it took everything she had not to slide her arms around Dan’s shoulders and kiss him until they were both senseless. “Thanks. That’s nice to hear.”
“I’ve got a lot to make up for.”
“A day at a time,” she counseled somberly, walking to the doorway. “Get some rest. I’ll come and wake you up later.”
*
Sloan stood at the kitchen sink, staring sightlessly out the windows, watching the bare gray branches across the road move slightly in the invisible chill. Dan was sincere in trying to understand what he felt was wrong with him. He’d bitten off a huge chunk to try and change. Could he do it? Sloan didn’t know, but her heart ached with wanting to support him on that journey. Not many men had that kind of courage to plumb the depths of their feelings like he was trying to do.
Rubbing her chest, she felt fear married to hope. The discussion they had on the beach was the first honest talk they’d had with one another to crack the door open between them. This was the second time. And Sloan needed this kind of communication with Dan all the time. Not just when he thought it was convenient. He had to extend that to her, as well.
Life was never fair, and she knew that in spades. Their relationship at Bagram was one way: Dan’s way. How she felt, what she needed from him, was never broached. Never even considered by him. If the sex they’d shared between one another hadn’t been as good as it had been, Sloan would have walked away from him long before he walked away from her. What was worse was that she’d fallen in love with him under those limiting circumstances he’d entrapped her with! Why had she agreed to his demands in the first place? There was something within her that was wounded and needed to be looked at with honesty, too.
She knew not every day was going to be full of progress like this one had been. Dan was right. He was going to fail sometimes and make terrible mistakes.
Hanging her head, love for him swamped Sloan. Their kiss was the most perfect thing they could have shared with one another. If only she could share her feelings with Dan, to let him feel what she felt for him. Then, maybe he’d understand the depth of her commitment to him. It might help him, but words were so often useless. Hope threaded through her fear of loss of Dan once more. Sloan knew her fear was justified, but at the same time, she had to give him a chance to change.
*
Sloan slipped into Dan’s room at 1700. The silence was calming. There were twirling snowflakes dancing silently outside the windows, and she loved the deep peace that winter always brought her. Her eyes moved tenderly across Dan’s sleeping features. His beard made his lower face darker, emphasizing the breadth of his cheekbones, his power, and masculinity.
Her heart pounded with a hope so fierce and blindingly honest that Sloan felt driven to move to his bedside to kiss him awake. It was only when he made love to her that she knew he loved her. Otherwise, it was not in his consciousness. She’d had other lovers and knew the difference, grateful that they’d been teachers to her. The way a man moved his hand across his woman’s flesh, the way he caressed her, told Sloan it was either about love or lust. Dan always had, nearly from the beginning, loved her. And that’s why she had opened her heart and fallen artlessly for him.
He stirred.
Sloan watched his hands move slowly across the afghan that lay over him. His brow furrowed and then relaxed. When he moved too much, she knew he was still in pain. His breathing deepened telling her he was slowly waking up.
There were strands of his dark hair laying across part of his brow, and her fingers longed to move them. Dan was so responsive to her every touch. Maybe she needed to be more tactile with him because it was an avenue where he remained vulnerable with her.
Pushing away from the door jamb, Sloan quietly walked to the right side of Dan’s bed. She leaned over, capturing those black strands of hair and easing them away from his brow. Instantly, he stirred, his lids fluttering. She smiled and luxuriated in tracing her fingers across his hairline, absorbing these small moments as he gradually opened his eyes.
“Time to wake up,” she whispered.
“Why’d you stop?” he muttered thickly. “I like how you care for me. It’s a nice way to wake up.”
She smiled and squeezed his hand. “Feel like sitting up? We need to get you and this IV out of bed and walk you to the kitchen table. I made us a good meal.” She pulled her hand free and slid it behind his shoulders, knowing he couldn’t pull himself up on his own yet.
“Are you in pain?”
“Yeah,” he admitted, wiping his eyes, “but not as bad as yesterday.”
“Every day it will be a little better.”