“Because you’ve been avoiding us, and I want to know why,” I demand.
“Why are you actually here?” He tries again, and all I can do is fall silent. Anger twists around all my other emotions and makes it hard to decipher what’s real and what’s not.
“I need to talk.”
He stares at me like he’s been waiting for this moment for the last five years.
“Okay,” he says, “let me make a coffee.”
He takes his time, and soon enough, the apartment smells like I made a terrible decision. I shouldn’t have come here with this. I shouldn’t have bothered him. I can handle this on my own.
“Don’t even think about it,” he warns and sets the cup down on the table. “You're such a bolter,” he sighs and mumbles, “worse than a street cat.”
“I can figure it out on my own. I didn’t mean to bug you.” I stare at the cup on the table.
“You needed to, it’s different. Tell me what’s going on,” he encourages as he drinks his coffee. I explain what happened overseas, and talk of the trauma I brought home. How I can still hear them begging me to save them.
Twelve hours of Noah crying that I’d get him home to his baby.
I promised him that I would.
A lifetime of regretting that promise and reminding myself that I was the reason his son is growing up without a dad. I tell him that sometimes I look at Daisy, and the guilt is so bad that I throw up everything in my stomach. There are still days when I want to make the scales even because I don’t deserve to see Daisy grow up.
Then I tell him what happened after leaving the church—every single detail of the episode that followed. I avoid using her name because hearing it out loud makes my whole body shiver.
The look on her face when she walked away from me was worse than any nightmare I’ve ever experienced.And you let her go. Boone had come to check on me, and I knew she had gone to Kaia, which made everything worse. Once he left, I got out of bed and got in the truck.
“Alright,” Landon sets his mug down. “My turn.”
“What?” I say.
“That’s how group works, Brighton. You tell a story, you listen to a story. Then you find the points where your stories touch, and you use them to solve your problem. It’s why you’re still a tangled mess. You’ve never admitted you are.” Landon raises an eyebrow at me.
“Okay.”
“I came home from my thirteenth tour, discharged from service because I nearly blew myself up cleaning my own weapon. After the eighth tour, I was drunk more than I was sober and really good at hiding it. Having something like that happen is enough to scare you sober, but it also opens the doors for the sober nightmares.” Landon explains. “They came on with a vengeance. I had been suppressing them for years, taking them out on people who didn’t deserve it a lot of the time. Luckily, I was in a place where no one ever asked questions.”
“Until you weren’t.” I finish his sentence.
“I was home for a week when the episodes started. I thought I wasn’t a man, Bright. Talking to people made my crimes okay, forgave me for my sins. But I didn’t want to be forgiven, I wanted to feel the punishment for those crimes.”
I’ve heard this story a hundred times. Told it to myself.
“Unfortunately, I was not the man I prided myself on. I was a coward, I was sick, and it created a ripple effect that I will never be able to undo.” Landon swallows tightly. “I need you to listen to the next part all the way before you interrupt.”
“Alright,” I say, digging my heels into the carpet.
“I was home alone with my oldest daughter and my son after convincing my wife that I would be able to handle it for an hour while she took our youngest to the doctor.” He inhales slowly. “I wasn’t always the best father, and every tour made it harder to be one. I got mean, Brighton. I'm ashamed to admit that, but I don’t omit it from my life because it’s the truth.”
My brows furrow, and my palms are sweaty against my thighs.
“That day, my son was hitting pucks; he loves hockey.” Landon smiles to himself. “He’s gonna be huge one day, he’s talented.” The reminiscing makes me sick to my stomach as the wall of realization hits me.
I recognize those eyes.
Sure, more tired, less vibrant. But the same deep green and angry shape.
Please don’t.
