16. Lincoln
16
LINCOLN
“I think I made a mistake.”
Dr. Dawkins eyed me from where he sat across from me. “What mistake do you think you made?”
I sighed and glanced toward the side of the room. “I should have never gone out with Devon.”
“You said your first date had gone well, so what happened between now and then?”
“I invited Devon to go rock climbing with me.”
He leaned back and crossed his ankle over the top of his leg. “You must think he’s more special than you admitted before. You don’t usually invite people in, especially to do something that you can’t do every day.”
I thought about Devon’s smile. His shy nature. How being a celebrity didn’t define him. We’d only been on two dates and texted back and forth. It killed me to send those almost nonresponses, when all I wanted to do was bury my head in the sand and pretend that I didn’t see them. Except, no matter how twisted up I was inside, I couldn’t bring myself to be that rude. But wouldn’t it be better if he decided that I wasn’t worth his time? That he walked away from me, then I couldn’t hurt him?
“He is special, that’s why he deserves more than someone who can’t keep his shit together.”
“Who says you can’t keep your shit together?” Dr. Dawkins didn’t pull any punches, nor did he sugarcoat things. “I think you need to tell me exactly what happened while you were rock climbing.”
“Nothing happened at rock climbing besides us having fun. He’d gone before, and like riding a bike, everything came back to him very quickly. He could tie his own harness and jumped right into the bouldering wall with me. It was as perfect as I can see a second date being.”
“Sounds like you might have found someone that enjoys the same things that you do.”
“He does, but we definitely don’t have the same taste in music.”
Dr. Dawkins nodded. “Now we’re getting somewhere. I take it Devon likes country music.”
I closed my eyes, trying to block the song from my mind. “He does.”
“Tell me what happened. You know we can’t figure it out and solve the problem if I don’t know the whole story.”
I sucked in a breath and tried to calm my racing heart. The nightmares had lasted a few days, getting less and less traumatic each day before I was able to shake them off completely and sleep through the entire night. The idea that going through the story again could bring it all back made my stomach churn, even as I knew that talking about it always helped. It had been eight months since I was faced with this.
“After we spent the day climbing, I drove Devon home. He lives about forty minutes outside the city, he asked if he could turn music on in the truck.” The melody started in my head, but I shoved it back down.
Dr. Dawkins must have noticed me struggling. “That’s when Devon turned on the country station.”
He didn’t phrase it as a question, but I answered him anyway. “Yes.”
“And what happened afterward? Did you ask him to turn it off?”
“No, I didn’t want him to give up something he wanted.”
His penetrating gaze leveled on me. “I don’t think so. I think you didn’t want to have to explain why or accept his help.”
He hit the nail on the head. “He doesn’t deserve to deal with that.”
“Says who? It’s not up to you what someone else is willing to accept or handle.”
“You’re not going to mention the fact that I had another attack right when I started dating someone?”
“No, because you’re missing the big picture here. I never expected you to go attack free when you’re spending time with someone who is just learning things about you. It’s going to happen. It’s a part of the healing process. But the more open you are with Devon, the more you can work together to avoid your triggers.”
“You want me to go back to dating him, even if it sets me back?” I couldn’t believe what he was suggesting.
“Yes, because it’s not setting you back. It’s helping you heal. Letting Devon into your world helps him understand you and maybe you’ll understand yourself a little better.”
Dr. Dawkins’s words were at the front of my mind as I left his office and drove to work. I couldn’t stop thinking about them through my entire shift, but there hadn’t been much time to really process them. It wasn’t until I got home that I allowed myself to focus on what he meant.
Did I care about Devon? Each time I was with him made me want more time with him. I absolutely cared about him. But how could I explain this to him? There didn’t seem to be an easy answer to that. The first question I needed to ask myself was did I want to explain it to him? Let him a little deeper into my world? The choice was that or blocking him from my life completely. Even if telling him might be hard, not seeing him again hurt more than I ever thought it would.
With the answer to the first question, I had to figure out the best way to talk to him. He deserved to hear it directly from me, not through a phone or text. I wanted to see his face when I explained what happened. I glanced at the muted TV and watched him skate across the screen. Question was whether I was willing to wait until he had a day off.
That answer was easy—no.
With a decision made, I grabbed my keys and went straight for my truck to start the drive to Devon’s. It gave me time to figure out exactly what I wanted to say to him. I didn’t think he was ready to hear it all, nor did I think I was ready to share everything with him. One step at a time.
When I pulled into Devon’s drive, the trees along the path closed in on me, blocking out the moonlight. They did a great job of keeping Devon’s house private from the random visitor. I made the final turn, and the house came into view. Almost all the lights were off inside, but I expected that this time of night. The game ended probably about a little over an hour ago, which gave me more time to decide how to explain this without Devon feeling guilty. I had a feeling no matter what I said he would.
It was cold sitting there in the truck waiting for him to arrive. If I thought for a moment that waiting to leave until closer to Devon getting home would have gotten me out the door I would have. Calling him also seemed unnecessarily cruel, making him worry the entire drive home. It wasn’t like he’d be here in ten minutes.
Lights came into view a little bit later. It was now or never. Hopefully, Devon was willing to listen and wouldn’t send me packing, which I wouldn’t blame him if he did. I’d been a dick by blowing him off. I just hoped he understood why I’d done it.
I stepped out of the truck and leaned against the side. My keys held tightly in my hand. The slight pain from them digging into my palm, grounding me in the moment.
The lights from his truck passed over me, and even in the dark I could see the shock on Devon’s face as he recognized who was standing in his driveway. The garage door opened and he pulled up in front of it, putting the truck into park. His truck wouldn’t fit inside. I expected him to get out and do something, but he sat there staring straight ahead. There was no sound at all. Not the garage door closing or the truck door opening.
I wasn’t sure how much time passed before I saw Devon reach for the door handle and push it open, then he stepped out into the drive, walking around the front of the truck, the overhead light from the garage reflecting behind him, making it hard to see his features.
Squaring my shoulders, I walked forward until I was almost standing in front of him and shoved my hands into my pockets. “Hey.”
“Hey. Are you okay? I’ve been worried about you.”
My eyes searched his, trying to figure out if he was really done with me. Done with this. “I’m fine. At least, now I am.”
“Lincoln, it’s almost midnight. Why would you drive all the way out here? You could have called or sent a text.”
If I hadn’t been paying close attention to his face, I would have missed how much he seemed to not like those options, but knowing Devon, he was trying to give me an out. So I didn’t have to make the effort for him. Devon was worth it.
I reached out and took his hand in mine. “I owe you an explanation for how I’ve acted the last two weeks.”
He shook his head. “You don’t—”
I gave his hand a slight shake. “Yes, I do.”
I ran my thumb over his fingers, feeling the cold surrounding us. He seemed to recognize that my hands were colder than his. I’d been standing out here longer. “Shit, your hands are freezing. Let’s go inside and we can talk.”
It was one step in the right direction, hopefully after I explained everything, Devon wouldn’t decide that it was time for me to leave. Without letting go of Devon’s hand, I let him lead me through the garage. He shut the garage door and led me into the house. He shut off the alarm, turned on lights as we passed, and walked us straight to the living room, where we took off our coats and Devon also took off his suit jacket.
I took a seat on the couch. The moment I let go of Devon’s hand, he began to fidget. “Can I get you something to drink? I’m sure I have something other than water in the fridge.”
He started toward the kitchen and I took his hand again, bringing him back to me. I tugged him down until he took the seat next to me. “I’m good. What I’m really hoping is you won’t hate me for my behavior after I explain.”
Devon dropped his gaze to his lap. “Did I do something?”
“No. You didn’t do anything wrong.” I swallowed hard. “I had a panic attack on the way back to your house that day.”
Devon’s eyes snapped to mine; his grip tightened on my hand. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I told myself when I left the military, I wouldn’t be a burden to anyone. I didn’t want to ruin the day we had, and I didn’t want you to feel like you had to take care of me.”
“I wouldn’t think either of those things. If something was triggering you, I’d want to help stop it. Do you know what caused it? Maybe next time we can avoid it. We can do something else. Go somewhere and relax.” Devon’s rambling told me exactly how nervous and concerned he was. Even in the short time I’d gotten to know him, he’d become very easy to read.
I was just as nervous as he was. This was the hard part. The one where I had to tell him that something he’d done inadvertently had been the cause of the panic attack that kept me quiet.
“I do, but before I tell you what caused the panic attack, I want to tell you a little bit more about what caused my PTSD, if you’re ready to hear it.”
“I am. I want to do what I can to help you.”
I paused, doing my best to settle myself before I dived in to this story. “When I was stationed overseas, I told you I was assigned as a medic with a Marine unit. Most days were spent in the medical tent, but every few we were sent to patrol the area. I was there in case anyone got hurt. Most days were quiet. The people were happy for us to be there.”
The memories started coming at me, but I shoved them back, unwilling to give them hold over me at the moment. Not that I’d stop them forever, but for now I wanted to get through this. If they chased me in my dreams tonight, then at least Devon would know.
“Every time we went out—” My chest tightened. “my…Matt drove. Always bitched that he hated the feel of being driven by anyone, so we let him. I knew it was just because he wanted to control the radio. Nobody else listened to the same shit he did.” I knew that going too deep into this story would be too much. “Long story, but Matt died that day.”
Devon was a smart man and I saw the realization dawn on his face. “Matt listened to country music, didn’t he?”
“He did.” Devon’s face fell. Before he had a chance to make himself feel worse, I said, “Don’t blame yourself. You had no idea and that’s on me. I talked to Dr. Dawkins today. He reminded me that if I don’t talk to you about my triggers, then there is no way we can avoid them or learn to work through them.” I brought Devon’s hand to my lips. “This wasn’t your fault. It’s all on me.”