“It soundsto me like you trust Chase,” Dr. Christina said from her colorful office in Miami.
At the JTT’s new base in Montana, Gray sat in the small office located off the kitchen. “I really do. He tells me everything. Where he’s going. What he’s doing. What his plans are for the future.”
At Chase’s urging, she’d contacted Tara’s psychologist, and for the past week, they’d had daily therapy sessions by video conference. Gray still cried every damn day, but talking to the doctor had helped.
This morning, she’d rambled on about Chase. Probably because she missed him so fucking much, her insides hurt.
“That’s really great. You need people you can count on. From what you’ve said, it seems you have quite a few now.”
Gray nodded. More than a few. She’d been surrounded by the JTT for the last week, and she’d come to trust them implicitly. They looked out for each other, and her, and Grant, and Davis. They were a family, and she was slowly starting to feel like a part of it.
“And what about you?” Dr. Christina asked. “Have you given any thought to what your future might look like?”
“Yes and no.” Gray took a deep breath to steady herself. “It’s hard to think about the future. So much has changed, but I…” Dr. Christina waited, giving her the time she needed to get her thoughts straight. “I see myself with Chase. That’s all. Just him.”
“Well, that’s a good start, Grace.”
“He tells me he loves me all the time,” she blurted, blushing as her gaze swept from the computer screen to the closed door and back again.
“And how does that make you feel?”
“Good, and also a little scared.”
“That’s understandable, considering your family history. Have you expressed your concerns about military life to him?”
Gray had shared a scrubbed version of the last two weeks with Dr. Christina. Nothing classified. Nothing that could jeopardize their safety or hers. But she knew about Tara. And Jackson. And the colonel. “Yeah. He said we should take things one day at a time.”
Dr. Christina laughed. “He sounds like a smart guy. I’d like to meet him sometime. Do you think he’d be open to joining us for a session or two?”
“I don’t see why not. He’s due back tomorrow. I’ll ask him.” Her heartbeat kicked up a notch. It had been a week since she had her hands on Chase, and Gray desperately looked forward to his arrival. They spoke on the phone every couple of hours, and last night they’d talked into the wee hours of the morning about nothing and everything.
God, she loved the sound of his voice.
Story after story, his deep rumble kept her tethered to reality. The others had tried—her brother, Grant, Davis, the members of the JTT—any one of them would do anything to help her find a way through her grief.
Chase and Dr. Christina understood. There was no through. No moving on. No getting past.
There was only learning to live without the people she’d lost.
Oh God! Tara.
What she wouldn’t give to sit with her best friend again and share a laugh over an iced coffee. Gray’s heart twisted, and she pressed both palms to her chest to hold the pain inside. If she didn’t, she’d start to cry, and she wouldn’t be able to stop. Not for a while. And she didn’t want to waste her time with Dr. Christina.
“I’m sorry,” Gray said, wiping at her tears.
“Don’t apologize, Grace. If you need to cry, go ahead. There’s no timetable for expressing your grief, and studies show attempting to suppress your feelings only prolongs the process of healing. There’s no normal, no baseline, no quick fix for recovering from the losses you suffered, but opening your heart to the pain means opening your heart to the possibility of finding joy again too.”
“When I think about Chase, I’m happy, but…”
“You feel guilty.”
Gray nodded.
“Grief is often accompanied by feelings of guilt, especially if a relationship was complicated like the one with your father. Did you start the homework from our last session?”
“I wrote a bunch of thoughts down, but it’s a mess.” Dr. Christina had asked Gray to write a letter to her father as a way of telling him all the things she hadn’t before he’d died.
“Neat or perfect wasn’t the assignment. Lifeismessy, and no one gets through it without stains on their hands or scars on their hearts. You’re the only one who will ever read the letter, so be messy, be real, be yourself. Okay?”
