“Hey.”
“Hey, loser.” I heard the affection in her tone even as I rolled my eyes at her greeting. “I’m saying I want my brother back. You know, the one who’s happy, has that light back in his eyes and actually smiles. The one you’ve been for the past few months? I want him back.”
Shoving my back against the couch with a grunt, my eyes fell closed. “Laney.”
“Foster.”
“I told you. I’m working on it.” Eyes still closed, I felt Harley approach and the weight on my leg when he set his chin on my knee. Reaching out to rub behind his ears, I glanced down to see his soulful eyes watching me.
“So you’re … talking to someone?” The tentativeness in Laney’s voice combined with the fact that she knows—without me ever saying a word about what happened back in Iraq—said it all. I’d thought I had been flying under the radar all this time when, in fact, the people closest to me had known and, apparently, had been waiting on me to step up to bat.
God, I really was a grade A moron sometimes.
With a sigh, I answered. “Yes, I’m talking to someone.” When there was a long beat of silence on the other end, I moved the phone away to check to see if the call dropped. But, no, it was still connected.
“Laney?”
“Yeah, I’m here.” Her voice sounded choked. “I’m just,” her voice broke then, so filled with emotion, “so glad to hear this. I’m proud of you for doing this, Fos.”
My sister’s words found their way deep inside to a part of me, wrapping tightly around it, creating a warmth, a reassurance I’ve not experienced before. Before I could manage a response, my sister went right back to her ball-busting self.
“Now, hurry up and get your shit together so you can get your woman back, okay? Otherwise, there’s going to be hell to pay.”
Even as a smile played on my lips at Laney’s demands, I worried I might not be able to convince Noelle I’m working on being good enough for her.
I worried she’d come to her senses and realize I’m not. Because while I’m working on a part of me that’s needed some long overdue healing, I know, without her, I’ll be dealing with a wound I won’t ever recover from.
My heart.
Coming back to the present, watching as Noelle slides into her car, starting it up, and adjusting the air conditioning to battle against this summer heat, I do what I know I probably shouldn’t. I send her a text message.
Have I told you yet today how incredibly brave you are?
I don’t expect a response even though I crave one.
And I try to ignore the ache in my heart when it never comes.
*
“Tell me more about Noelle.”
I’m sitting in the oversized leather chair that’s actually more comfortable than it appears. I refuse to sit on the large couch Dr. Givens has—on principle alone. As much as I know I need to be here to get myself right, I don’t have to like it or embrace the whole Lie back on my couch while I dig, poke, and prod around in your mind thing. It creeps me the hell out.
“What do you want to know?” I offer, trying to figure out his angle for this conversation.
The older man smiles, crinkling the corners of his eyes, laugh lines becoming more pronounced. He’s a former Marine Sergeant and far more lighthearted than I ever expected.
“I don’t have an angle for this conversation, if that’s what you’re thinking.” Damn. See what I mean? Creepy mind reading shit freaks me out. “I just know her name has come up before, and I think we should talk more about her. About what role she plays in your life.”
Resting my forearms on my knees, linking my fingers together, I stare down at my hands. “She doesn’t play any role in my life.” After a pause, I add, “Not anymore.”
“Ah.”
My eyes raise to meet his. “Ah? What’s that mean?”
“You pushed her away.” He delivers this calmly, not as a question but as a statement. Like he already knows the answer.
My lips twist as I look away with a curt nod.
“Why did you push her away?”
Rising from the chair, I begin pacing the room. “Because of what I’ve done. Who the hell wants to be with a guy who’s done what I have? I mean, she’s this incredible woman who’s been through some seriously awful shit. She doesn’t need me adding to it.”
“And you’re certain you’d add to it?” I stare out the window of his office at the parking lot below, watching people come and go. “What are you really afraid of, Foster?”
I take a moment to answer, bracing my palms against the glass window, my voice barely audible. “I’m afraid she’ll wake up one day and realize she can’t stomach being with me—being with someone who’s done what I’ve done.
“And that,” I swallow past the emotion rising, tightening my throat and force out a humorless laugh, “would likely kill me—hurt me far more than any Taliban RPG fire ever could.”
Chapter Fifty-Eight
Noelle
I shouldn’t be here.