“My real reason for going to South Dakota.”
Her smile faded, and her body tensed in my lap. “What do you mean, ‘real reason’?”
“I needed to visit Andy Harvey at Silver Creek. I’ve gone there in the past to deal with some of the shit I struggled tohandle on my last mission. Being at the ranch and having his support meant a lot.”
I’d spoken to Jo about being a Ranger but kept to anecdotal stories about training. The darker side of deployment remained unspoken. I told her about the time we had to navigate a treacherous mountain trail during training, laughing about how one of the guys tripped and rolled halfway down the hill. But the memory of a night in the desert, when we lost a teammate during an ambush, stayed buried, its weight pressing down like the unforgiving heat of that endless night, haunting me in silence.
“What…shit?” Her voice filled with concern, and her eyes widened, searching, as if trying to read my thoughts.
“Insurgents captured and held me.”
“You mean you were taken as a hostage?”
I swallowed, the dryness in my throat making it hard to speak. Then I nodded and cleared my throat, my hands trembling slightly as I steadied myself. “Yes.” The term ‘prisoner of war’ (POW) was technically accurate, but I despised it. It brought back memories of a time when I felt weak and vulnerable, trapped in a cycle of fear and helplessness. The weight of those days still clung to me, a shadow I couldn’t shake off, heavy and suffocating like the damp, musty air of the cell where I had been held.
I wasn’t physically tortured like some hostages. Mostly, I was starved and deprived of water. Kept in a dank, dark cell, the air was thick with the stench of rot and decay.
Jo listened as I briefly recounted my time in captivity, sharing just enough to convey the emotional weightwithout overwhelming her. I wanted her to see my scars, not as barriers between us, but as part of my journey—a testament to resilience rather than a focus on the pain. My hope was that she could see past the hurt, embrace the person I had become, and understand that while those experiences shaped me, they didn’t define me.
“My treatment could have been worse. They didn’t risk abusing an officer, but the enlisted man captured with me endured far worse. That was the hardest part—knowing there was nothing I could do to protect a Ranger entrusted to my care.”
“How did you…how do you cope after going through something so traumatic?”
“Therapy and being at Silver Creek helped me climb out of the darkness. They gave me the tools to get my life back. But sometimes the heaviness weighed down on me, and it became too much.”
She pulled me in for a hug, her arms wrapping around me tightly, and I could feel the warmth of her sympathy. “Oh, Texas. I’m so sorry,” she said, her voice soft and filled with genuine concern. “Thank you for sharing this with me. I’m sorry you didn’t feel you could tell me before.”
“Is this why you haven’t been sleeping well lately?”
“Yes.” I looked away, avoiding her gaze. “You noticed.” It hadn’t occurred to me that she had picked up on my restlessness.
She reached out, her hand hesitantly brushing against my arm, her touch warm and fleeting. “I should havebecause I care about you,” she said, her voice soft and laced with concern.
“I know. Moving forward, we’ll be transparent with each other.” I took a deep breath, steadying myself.
“Do you feel… what’s the word…triggered often?”
“No, I’ve actually been doing really well.” I leaned back in the chair and rubbed her back. “It had been over three years since I last felt overwhelmed by the memories.”
“Three years?” She paused, her expression thoughtful, as if reflecting on my words. “Is that why you disappeared for those four months and I didn’t hear from you?”
“Yes. One moment, I was looking toward the future, my heart light with the possibility of asking if we could give a relationship a chance. The next, nightmares consumed me, drowning me in a suffocating darkness that erased all hope.”
“Thinking of being in a relationship with me triggered you so badly?” she asked, her voice soft, almost hesitant.
“No,” I said, offering her a small smile. “You didn’t trigger me. It’s just… moving on with my life, finding happiness—it made me feel like shit knowing the Ranger who was taken with me is still struggling all these years later.”
Her brow furrowed, and I could see the concern in her eyes. “Why? Can’t the place you mentioned help him like they helped you?”
“They can and do,” I explained, my voice heavy with the weight of it all. “But he struggles with addiction. When he relapses, and I hear about it… it messes with my head, like it has been over the last few months.”
She nodded slowly, taking it in. “I see.”
“Jo, you and RJ—you’re my world,” my voice hitched, raw with emotion.
“I know.” Dipping her head to break eye contact, she spoke in a voice barely above a whisper. “You are my everything too.”
“I love you, Jo,” my declaration spilled out before I could stop it. “You are the love of my life.”
