Addie burst out laughing. “Okay, that definitely made my terrible morning feel just a bit better.”
“Men act tough but most will run the second you throw out any words concerning a woman’s anatomy.”
“I feel like I could learn a lot from you.”
“Honey, stick around, and I’ll give you fifty-five years of wisdom.”
The couch was hard.Noah didn’t care—he’d sat in worse places. But for some reason, he’d expected a therapist’s office to have a comfortable couch. His last therapist’s couch had been so soft you could have slept on it.
And not only that, the walls were bare. Weren’t there supposed to be framed degrees or certificates or something?
Lucky he’d looked the guy up on the internet to confirm his credentials, because otherwise he might question if the guy was a real therapist.
The door to the office opened and Toby stepped in. “Sorry to make you wait. There are fires left, right, and center today.” He lowered to the armchair across from Noah.
“You don’t need a laptop or notebook?” Noah asked. His therapist in North Carolina had looked at that damn notebook more than he’d looked athim.
Toby shook his head. “No, I like to be present with my clients. Besides, I have a good memory. I write my notes up after.”
Notes… Noah had been offered a copy of his notes from his last therapist. He’d declined. What the hell was he supposed to do with them? Read about the therapy that hadn’t done shit for him?
“I noticed on your form,” Toby said, “that you spoke to someone before returning to Amber Ridge.”
“It didn’t help. Probably why he signed off on a medical discharge. Pretty sure he saw me as a lost cause.”
“How did that make you feel?”
“It was expected.” Didn’t really answer Toby’s question and, of course, he would know that.
Toby’s smile gentled. “Well, I’m glad you’re giving me a chance. We don’t have to start with anything heavy. We can talk about the weather or the park.”
Noah bit back a scoff. “I don’t want to talk about the weather.”
“What would you like to talk about?”
“How to unchain myself from what happened to me.” The words felt heavy, like rocks in his gut.
Toby nodded, a neutral expression now on his face. “Would you like to tell me what happened?”
The first time someone had asked Noah that, he’d barely gotten the words out. Now?
“My team was on the Syrian and Iraqi border region. Our job was to conduct surveillance on a suspected insurgent smuggling route. We got bad intel though. The town was supposed to be abandoned. It wasn’t. It was actively used as a militia transit hub. We were ambushed.”
Toby nodded, his brows tugging together. He didn’t say anything, just waited for Noah to continue.
“They started shooting from rooftops. Some of the guys got away. But Jay was killed. And Boone and I were taken. I woke up in a concrete-walled room. I wasn’t given any food or water, and they tried to beat information from me. When that didn’t work, they used Boone against me.”
“What happened next?” Toby asked quietly, when Noah paused.
This was the part Noah hated. His heart started to race like it always did and sweat beaded his forehead. “They beat him. Shot him. And I watched him die.”
There was so much missing from that story. The hours of agony. The utter devastation that he was about to lose his second teammate. The feeling of hopelessness.
He swallowed but it did nothing to wet his dry throat. “An hour after he died, the rescue team breached the compound and saved me.”
Another small nod from Toby. “Thank you for telling me. I’m sorry you went through that.”
“I didn’t just go through it. I’mstillgoing through it. I relive it every day. I see Boone dyingevery fucking timeI close my eyes. I feel the chains around my wrists. The rage and hopelessness live inside me all the time. I’mtiredof reliving that day.”
