“I promise we’ll be okay. I’ll fix this.”
“Okay.”
Chapter 42
Trust fall
Finn
Gravel crunched under my boots as I replayed the last ten minutes with Alex. Things were fine until my dad had shown up, talking about the injection I’d missed—the injection I hadn’t told Alex about, or asked her to help me with.
I’d watched her shove her hurt down—doing her best to hide her emotional response for what she thought was my sake. I’d almost preferred she’d scream at me than not respond at all. But for now, I needed to figure out how to tell Dr. Martinez what happened without making it sound like the end of the world. Though maybe it was—hard to tell the difference between crisis and just another weekday when your brain keeps misfiring.
Inside our room, I sat at the desk by the window and pulled out my phone for my appointment at 1400 hours. Military trauma protocols were clear about reporting episodes, and what happened yesterday crossed every threshold she’d established for immediate intervention.
The afternoon light caught the mountains through the glass. The same view I’d been looking at for weeks now. Beautiful, peaceful, completely at odds with the chaos in my head.
I rubbed my forehead where pressure was starting to build—too much stress, not enough sleep. And the barometric pressure from yesterday’s storm still affecting my skull like it was a broken weather station. I needed rest.
But the call couldn’t wait. Dr. Martinez would want details while they were fresh—before I started editing the story to make myself look less unstable.
The video app connected on the second ring.
“Good afternoon, Finn,” Elena appeared on screen. “Admin marked your appointment as ‘high priority’. What’s going on?”
“There was an incident yesterday. I need to report it.”
Her posture shifted—still relaxed, but focused—ready for my confessional at the altar of military protocol.
“Tell me what happened.”
“We had a large storm with flash flooding. Ranch-wide emergency. Alex was helping with the creek behind the house.” I paused, organizing the sequence like a military briefing. “I’d been working in the rain for several hours prior. Physical labor, equipment moving. By the time I got back to help with the creek situation, I was already compromised.”
“Compromised how?”
“Mental and physical exhaustion. Sensory overload from the rain and rushing water. My left shoulder seized up. Pain was significant, but I kept pushing,” my words came out flat, clinical. Easier to report than to feel. “Alex was working close to the creek. She slipped in the mud.”
Elena waited.
“I lost it.” This admission came harder than the rest. “Complete breakdown. Panic response about her being near the water. Couldn’t process that she was fine, that she knew what she was doing. Started seeing my own accident instead of what was actually happening.”
“What did you do?”
“Ordered her away from the water,” my jaw clenched around the memory. “When she didn’t immediately comply, I escalated. Swore at her using my command voice. In front of my entire family.”
Elena made a note on something outside the camera frame. “How did she respond?”
“Told me ‘no’. Shut me out completely. Kept working like I didn’t exist.” The memory of Alex’s ice-cold stare made my chest tight. “Smart response. De-escalation through disengagement.”
“What happened next?”
“My sister’s husband, Luke, intervened. Got me away from the situation before I could make it worse.” I stared out the window at families moving around the property as if yesterday hadn’t even happened.
Elena was quiet for a moment. “How are you feeling now? Physically and emotionally.”
“Physically? Like I got caught in a stampede. Slight headache, body’s still sore,” I shifted in the chair, my left hip protesting. “Emotionally... I screwed up, Elena. Used military authority on a civilian. On someone I love.”
My voice broke on the last admission, my eyes stinging. So much for keeping things professional.
