For the next few days the pattern was the same. Wes would make love to me in the daylight when he was more himself and fuck me raw at night, taking from my body whatever he needed to push away the nightmares so he could find his way back home.
Exhausted after he rode me hard that fourth night home, I turned, lying on his chest. The anxiety and fear that had controlled him the moment I woke him from his nightmare through the rapid fire fucking finally left when he came deep inside me. For a longtime after, he’d worship me with soft kisses and whispers of regret and love. Regret that he’d used me for selfish reasons, and love because he knew I’d do it over and over again until he was free of the evil that lived inside his memories. The broken words he whispered through the act revealed that he’d been through a horrifying ordeal. He needed more help than the temporary respite in the body of the woman he loved. That monster crawling around in his head needed to be eliminated, the same way I’d had to eliminate mine after being hurt by Aaron.
I decided it was time to address the elephant in the room. At least enough that he’d take the first steps on the path toward healing.
“Baby, you need to see someone about these nightmares and your response to them.” I tipped my chin down and kissed him above his heart.
He stiffened in my arms. “Are you angry because I’m using your body? I don’t mean to. Fuck, Mia, I don’t know…” He ran his hand haphazardly through his hair. “You’re the only thing that makes it stop.”
“Wes, it’s okay. I love giving you whatever you need to heal. But what do I make stop?” This was the first time I asked since he’d come home.
His eyes cut to mine. “The memories. They come when I sleep, and I can’t shake them.”
“Until you’ve given your body and mind something else to focus on?” I grinned and waggled my eyebrows, trying to lighten the intensity of where this conversation was going.
He looked at me shyly. “Yeah, pretty much.” Wes sighed and ran a hand up and down my bare back. After he’d used my body, he needed to reconnect on an emotional level. He’d spend a long time petting me. I think it was his way of making sure I was okay.
“Would you tell me about one of them?” I held my breath and tried to show that I was strong. Strong enough to hear whatever he had to say.
Wes shook his head, and his jaw tightened. “Sweetheart, you don’t want that shit in your head.”
“I told you about Aaron.” He was about to open his mouth, deflect the similarity of the situation, but I plowed ahead. “I know it’s not the same, but it was traumatic to me. It fucked me up, and this is hurting you, baby. If we’re going to be a team, partners in all things, we have to be able to take the other’s pain, lift it off our shoulders so we aren’t consumed by the weight anymore. Eventually, with two people carrying it, it’s lighter. Start small. Tell me what happened when you were shot.”
Wes closed his eyes and swallowed. He didn’t open them back up for so long I thought he’d gone to sleep, or was trying to, until he spoke. “They had us chained to the wall, arms above our heads with ropes. I’d never felt gnawing tension like that from having no mobility in my arms. They spent a lot of time kicking us, throwing things at us, spitting on our faces. Basically the worst you could think of probably happened. That day I knew something was up. The men were no longer cracking jokes and playing with their toys—the toys being us. They were off kilter and spoke in harsh tones. It was like they were scared, perhaps knew what was coming. And then, suddenly, there was gunfire and the sound of helicopters. I didn’t know what to think.”
He took a breath, and I moved an unruly lock of hair off his forehead. He didn’t speak for a few moments, and I worried he wouldn’t continue. “Then what happened?” I didn’t want to push, but I knew he needed to get something off his chest.
With a somber expression, he opened his eyes. “Two of the men dropped to their knees and prayed. Just like any man would when scared out of his mind. They prayed. Only right after, when the gunfire got louder, and I could hear boots on the ground and voices calling out commands in English, one of the men lifted his gun and blew his own head off. The other looked at me with pure disgust in his eyes, swung his gun around, and fired wildly. Gina screamed but her arms slumped down. One of the bullets caught her in the leg but another hit right above her hands breaking the rope so her arms were released.”
Wes’s breath started getting more labored, so I leaned forward, kissed his chest, his neck, his forehead, his nose. “It’s okay. baby. I’m right here. Go ahead. Tell me the rest.”