Tapping her pen against her lips, she watches me, planning her next move. I can feel a trap incoming, she’s good at weaving questions in a little dance that tries to hook me like a fish at the end of a fishing line.
“Okay, that’s fair. So, how are things at the ranch?”
I huff a frustrated breath, another question she’s asked me ten times. “The ranch is fine. There’s not much deviation from horseshit, hay, and long days.”
She nods her head as she writes something down. “You still going to the pub a few times a week to get away?”
Flicking my gaze over her head at the framed diplomas on the wall behind her desk, I push away the question that’s been a broken record in my head -you’re not very nice, are you?Nora’s cheeks were flushed when she said it, with anger or embarrassment, I’m not sure. She was twisting a small ring on her finger, I wonder if I make her nervous.
“Most weeks.”
“This week?”
I stare at her, and she stares at me. Either I bite or we keep dancing for the next, I look at the clock by the door, forty minutes. Maybe expressing interest in a woman will speed up this farce called therapy, make me look more normal.
“There’s a new waitress at the pub. I haven’t been this week.”
I expect her to write that down, but she only tilts her head again. “Why are you avoiding the waitress?”
“I’m not avoiding her.”Liar. “She thinks I’m an asshole, no need in making it worse.”
I word it like I’m doing her a favor by keeping my grumpy ass away, but I know it sounds lame.
For the first time in a long time, she clips her pen to her legal pad and sets them aside on the little table next to her chair. “You don’t care what anyone thinks. What makes her different?”
Fuck.
Now that I’ve said it, I’ve changed my mind. I don’t want to talk about it.
Flicking my eyes back to the diplomas over her head, I press my lips together. I don’t want to talk about how damaged I am, and I sure as fuck don’t want to talk about the fact that I could never sleep with another person in my bed again. No woman wants that.
She links her fingers together in front of her and sets her elbows on the chair arms. “Come on, Tucker, why is she different?”
The tips of my fingers are digging into the leather of the chair arms I’m sitting in. I fucking hate this. It’s like being under a microscope while someone picks apart every word, sometimes twisting it into something it’s not.
The silence stretches as I stare at the wall, and I can feel her eyes on me like a goddamn guard dog ready to pounce. Taking a deep breath, I lower my eyes to meet hers, my jaw clenched so hard I could crack my molars. “You know why.” The statementcomes out low between clenched teeth, and I narrow my eyes at her.
I don’t like being pulled to the fucking water by a lead.
If she thinks I don’t know I’m just another fucked-up soldier with the same fucked-up issues as all the other fucked-up soldiers that sit in this chair every fucking day, then she shouldn’t be in this position. Anger is heating my neck and head.
All humor has left her face, her eyes calmly locked on mine, and she leans forward. “Tucker, the person you were before your accident and the person you are now both live inside of you. I know you are having a hard time accepting the life you have now, but you are still a good man.”
My breaths are coming fast through my nose as I stare at her, my anger barely contained. “Not good enough.”
She barely smiles, her eyes warm. “Now we’re getting somewhere. That feeling, however valid, is a symptom of your PTSD, it’s not a reflection of your true character. Have you considered what would happen if you gave her the chance to decide if she thinks you’re good enough?”
Fuck this.
I’m not a good man. If I were a good man, my teammate would still be alive. I would have gone in first.
I’ve got to get out of here.
Standing abruptly, my hands fisted at my sides, she looks up at me and for a split second I see uncertainty in her eyes before the warmth comes back. This is the first time I’ve seen anything like that in a woman’s eyes when looking at me, and my old friend guilt washes over me.
I would never hurt a woman.
Flexing my hands at my sides, I take a deep breath. “I apologize. I didn’t mean to scare you, I just feel like I need to leave now.”
