Not at all."Yeah, I'm fine."
He continued staring. "Do you find yourself worrying often?"
Only about everything."No, hardly at all."
"Since no one is going to get the dogs, I'll do it," Will announced, disappearing out the back door.
I reached down, ran my fingers through Abby's halo of white-blonde curls. "Don't chew off my leg, okay? I need both of them."
"'Kay, 'kay, 'kay," she answered.
"There's no shame in talking to someone, in getting help," the Commodore announced.
He said this as if it was a simple truth, something he knew and I should know too. But it wasn't simple and we both knew that. It wasn't a matter of bravado. The aftertaste of black ops work wasn't meant to be examined in talk therapy, and only those who could manage the silence were sent down range. We had the psych profiles to prove it. Sitting my ass in front of a shrink would accomplish one thing: prove I'd lost a lot more than my cover in Russia.
"Coming home can be difficult under the best circumstances. You've been through the worst circumstances," he continued.
You don't know the half of it."I'm doing great. No issues aside from my arm."
He shot a tight-lipped grimace at the brace on my arm, nodding. "No doubt about that. None whatsoever." He flattened his hands on the countertop. "And there's no doubt losing a team member is devastating, especially since you worked so closely with Veronica for such an extended period of time. It might help to talk it out instead of letting her death occupy space inside you."
Thanks for reminding me about my fake wife, the one killed execution-style and discarded on the steps of the American embassy."Did you learn that at tiny tot yoga?"
"I'll have you know we talked about breathing in good vibes and blowing out the bad ones last week," he replied with a laugh. "I hope you know you can always talk to me, Wesley. Me, your mother, Will. All of us. You can talk to us about anything, good vibes and bad vibes. You know that, don't you?"
There's an entire lifetime I can't share with you and not just the one classified above top secret."Of course."
He stared at me, unblinking, as if he intended to continue. As if he wanted to have a conversation about all the things we didn't discuss, which was everything. Even if I was at liberty to share, I wouldn't know where to start explaining to him the toll of extended espionage, of faking a hetero relationship, of living to tell about shoddy attempts at torture-based interrogation, of feeling trapped in America after years abroad, of speaking a foreign language for so long my brain required extra processing time to comprehend English.
Of being someone else for so long I doubted whether I knew anything about myself. Except I knew I was living a marginal, fractional life. I was covering up and sweeping away and smoothing off the edges.
He knew I couldn't tell him anything. That was why he returned to stocking the refrigerator and let the moment pass.
"I don't need therapy," I added.
"Didn't say you did," he replied.
"I'd just like some notice if everyone is going to be out of the house."
He closed the refrigerator. "Will do."
"It was weird. That's all. And someone from Shannon's office dropped by. It was surprising. That's all this is about. I didn't expect these things. You don't have to worry about me picking up some PTSD on my last outing."
Shannon stepped into the kitchen from the back staircase, saying, "Why are there Cheerios on the floor? Never mind, I don't need the story. I'll wash it later." She stopped at my side and held my younger niece out to me. "I overheard what you said on my way down. I forgot I'd asked Tom to bring me a few things today. I should've given you a heads-up. Sorry about that. I can't keep track of the days. Would you hold Annabelle for a minute? I need to grab some snacks before feeding her again."
I gestured to my injured arm, the one I couldn't lift beyond shoulder level. "I probably shouldn't."
"It's just for a minute." Shannon settled the baby into the crook of my good arm and tucked the lame one beneath it. "See? Perfect."
Wide eyed, I glanced between the tiny bundle in my arms and the little koala on my leg. "I don't need a detailed schedule," I said. "Just let me know when the place is emptying out."
"I'll see to it," my father said. "We shouldn't have left you without appropriate intel. Won't happen again."
I had no reason to continue harping on this but I couldn't let it go. I couldn't stop scratching the itch. "Out of curiosity, why did it happen this time?"
"I'm sorry about that," Shannon said as she scooped peanut M&Ms into a cup. "We should've—"
"Shannon, sweetheart, you have enough on your hands." My father leveled the stern gaze of a commanding officer on me. It was good to know my issues ranked below forcing an apology from my sister-in-law. "You've made it clear you don't want to be disturbed. We didn't disturb you. If you're looking for someone to blame for this morning's events, blame me." He sliced his hand through the air to punctuate his point. "There's no shame in talking to someone about"—he glanced around with a slight shake of his head—"about anything. Anything you're dealing with from this mission or…anything else in your life. Anything at all, Wesley. It might do you good as you make sense of your next moves."
