What it had been was an eye-opener. First, because when I had really opened my eyes, Patience had still been there, no pity in her eyes, just support and understanding. But also, because she’d been barely wearing anything, and her body was to die for, leaving images burned in my brain forever.
She showed me that even in one of my worst moments, I could still be loved. Patience may not have said she loved methat night, but I felt it, and while I also didn’t say the words, I returned the feeling.
I’d also managed to get a few hours of peaceful sleep, because I’d been in her arms. It felt like forever since I had a good night's sleep. The nightmares were back with her not around, and I almost begged her to let me lay next to her at night to see if it would calm the horror that I relived when I closed my eyes.
I couldn’t ask that, though, not with Griffin in the house too. Besides, if that was a one-time thing and I lost it while she was right beside me, I wouldn’t be able to handle it if I ever hurt her—even if I hadn’t meant to.
It was time to work on myself so that we could work onus.
Trying to do just that, I’d spoken with Gyth, knowing he’d gone through some stuff himself, and already had one session with someone at a VA medical center close by.
It had been brutal, a real bitch opening up, and my wounds were wide open. If they were physical, I could handle it, but this mental stuff had me feeling so exposed. It had only lasted an hour, and we hadn’t even scratched the surface, yet I’d walked out exhausted.
There was a lot of work ahead to clean up the fucked-up shit in my head, but I had the best reasons to do it. I just hoped it was all still possible.
Doubt still lived inside of me, like the guilt I felt for the loss of my friends.
My therapist had asked me to think about ways to channel the anger, the guilt, and to find an outlet to release those feelings. I knew how I had always done it before, but I’d stopped and denied myself something I loved because the idea of being happy felt like I was dishonoring the men that were lost.
Though, after hearing Patience’s heavenly voice—on asong she’d written for me nonetheless—I’d felt the draw to music again. I craved the process of making something of my own and collaborating with Patience too.
However, I didn’t crave anything the way I did Patience. The image of her standing in her short shorts and tight tank top with her breasts pressed against the fabric begging to be touched, the way she kissed and moaned into my mouth as her scent wrapped around me—that was what I’d call addiction.
And she wasmine.
Blowing out a breath, I realized I might also need an outlet to calm the fire burning inside of me for my wife. It would have been easy to get lost in Patience that night, a welcome distraction to take me away from my thoughts. Her touch, her heart, and her body could soothe my battered soul, but I’d meant what I said about her deserving more.
She needed to be courted, even if I wasn’t sure exactly what that looked like. If I got stuck, I knew there were plenty of men and women around who’d gladly help. Dating was not something I’d done; sex as I told Patience, had been nonexistent in my life because my wife was the only one I wanted to be with.
I was getting my chance—something I needed to make sure I didn’t fuck up.
There was a lot to think about and work through. I also still had to decide about the job offer the guys had presented me with. I was going to talk to Gramps while I was there at the house. He always knew exactly what to say.
With my whole setup waiting for me in his garage—my music outlet—I grabbed my phone and keys off the counter, heading for the door just as my cell rang. Without looking at the screen, I put it to my ear and answered.
“Hello.”
There was some rustling on the other end, and then, “Heyyou.” Dusty’s voice came through the line, and I froze with my hand on the knob.
Did she sound upset? That wasn’t usually her style, even when I knew she was struggling. Somehow, she always seemed to be more put together than me, even after everything she’d gone through.
Fuck, maybe I’d let her joke her way through the pain. Worry rushed through me. We’d been keeping in contact, but I probably hadn’t done as great a job as I should have since it had been at least three weeks since we spoke. More guilt attacked me, fucking with my mind.
“Everything okay, D?”
A huge sigh came through the line before she answered. “Yeah. No. Maybe.” She let out a manic laugh. “I don’t know how to do this life anymore, Jett.”
Fear gripped me. I’d never heard her so deflated and scared—not even when we were stuck in hell and she thought she was going to die. I let go of the knob and began to pace as I tried to find the right words. I was sure that I wasn’t the right person to help her when I was so screwed up myself, but I had to try.
“What do you mean?” I asked, trying to keep my voice soft. It was a huge difference from when I’d been commanding her to fight back in that room because there was no way I could handle losing her too.
Silence greeted me, and my anxiety spiked. “Baker, talk to me.” This time I practically snapped it out like an order. It worked too.
“I’m not a farmer. I left to get away from that life and this small town.” She blew out a breath. “Don’t get me wrong. I love my parents; they are the cream of the crop type of people.” Now she chuckled at her joke. “But they hover, and I needed to find my own way. I thought I had, but then…”
She let that hang in the air. I didn’t need her to finish to know what the then was; we’d both lived through it—barely.
“Listen.” I gulped; a ball of worry stuck in my throat. “I’m sorry that I couldn’t stop?—”
