26. Lincoln
26
LINCOLN
“How long are you going to keep torturing yourself?” Madison came through the front door with a white bakery bag in hand.
“I’m not torturing myself, just watching TV.”
She stopped halfway to the kitchen and lifted a brow at me. “Really? So, watching a game from nights ago, that you already watched live only to see Devon isn’t torturing yourself?”
Just his name rolling off her tongue made the ache in my chest increase. The pain came in cycles. Sometimes it was just a dull ache, while others it hurt so bad it was hard to breathe.
“I—”
I’d barely gotten the first word out before she’d cut me off. “Don’t even try and tell me it’s a different game. I watched it with you, not to mention that I know my hockey players.”
She had me there. Madison had been watching hockey with me for as long as I could remember. There was no way I’d be able to get one over on her. But how did I explain wanting to watch Devon glide across the ice? The way he moved, so powerful and graceful at the same time. His game was off, which I knew had everything to do with me. I was torturing myself. I knew it, yet I couldn’t stop myself.
I guess I’d hoped that maybe I’d watch him play one of these nights and see him back to his normal form. That he’d gotten over me and was playing like he should. Even if a part of me didn’t want that at all.
“Well, no one said you had to stay and watch me torture myself.”
I knew I was being snarky, and Madison didn’t deserve that. Madison had shown up a few hours after I called her. She came with a fully packed bag and had moved herself onto my couch. She’d gotten her boss to let her work from home while she stayed with me. She cooked or picked up takeout while I wasn’t in the mood to. And for the first time since I returned from overseas, I let someone help me.
I invited Madison to a therapy session with Dr. Dawkins. After everything she was willing to do for me, I felt like she deserved to know it all. No matter how ugly the truth was. That day she sat on Dr. Dawkins’s couch and cried with me.
She’d also been there for his lecture about pushing Devon away when I probably needed him most. He’d been surprised that I’d been willing to let Madison come and stay with me. It was a step in the right direction he said.
“I know I don’t have to, but you’re stuck with me until I feel like you’re ready to go back to work and start living your life again.”
I’d taken two weeks off work, which Natalie had been quick to grant. She didn’t ask a single question, but I had no doubt she knew what happened.
“I’m only off for another week.”
“Then you’re stuck with me for another week.” She brought out the muffins and pastries on plates and set them on the coffee table. She snatched the bag of Reese’s Pieces out of my hand, then went back for the coffees. “Now, want to tell me why you’re rewatching Devon’s game?”
“Not really.”
“Tough.” Another thing she learned from Dr. Dawkins at the session was to take his no bullshit approach with me.
“He’s not playing the same.”
She watched, lifting the cup to her lips. “That’s not really surprising. What did you expect?”
I leaned my head against the back of the chair and closed my eyes. “I guess I hoped he’d see why this was a good thing. How he’d be so much better off without me.”
I swallowed hard, trying to keep the tears at bay. Small, soft fingers wrapped around mine. “Oh, Lincoln. Don’t you get you deserve to be happy too? You and Devon deserve to be happy together.”
I shook my head without looking down. “No, he deserves to be happy. He can’t have that with me.”
“Why can’t he? You love him, right? And he loves you?”
“He loves an illusion. He loves someone he doesn’t know everything about. Someone who doesn’t have a breakdown every time something scary happens.”
She tugged on my hand. “Look at me.” She didn’t speak again until I lowered my gaze to hers. “He knew about the PTSD before you started dating. He made the choice to still be with you. He knew what he was getting into.”
“No one really knows what that is until they experience it first-hand.”
“And did he try and run when you had the panic attack?”
I sighed. “No. He wanted to stay and help.”
“Exactly. He wasn’t afraid of what he might be dealing with. He was ready to face it head-on with you. You were the one that didn’t want him to see the realities of it. Promise me something.”
I was afraid to ask, but I did anyway. “What’s that?”
“That you’ll at least think about calling him.”
“Madison…” I trailed off.
“I’m not asking you to promise to call, I’m asking you to think about it.”
I was in a stare off for a long moment. This wasn’t a battle I could win with her. I knew it. She knew it. In the end, it was just me thinking about it.
“I promise.”
That promise was still sitting heavily on my shoulders as I walked into Dr. Dawkins’s office. As usual, he was waiting for me. I sat down across from him and started the battle of wills. Who would talk first? Minutes passed and nothing.
The silence closed in on me.
I did my best to ignore it. Pretended it wasn’t pressing in on me, but both of us knew it was. He had miles of practice and more patience than I did. My knee began to bounce as the weight of silence settled over me. He’d wait me out. In the end, he’d win the battle of wills. Didn’t stop me from trying.
He uncrossed his legs and picked the opposite foot up and propped it on his knee. All the while, his eyes never left mine.
The pressure became too much. “Aren’t you going to ask me a question?”
Dr. Dawkins rested his arm along the top of the couch. “Considering you’ve been here every other day for the last week, I figured you’d know the first thing I want to know.”
I ran a hand through my hair, figuring the answer would be obvious, otherwise I wouldn’t be here. “Don’t know that I’d call it a dream, more like a nightmare.” He lifted a brow and waited. “Yes, I had another dream last night.”
“And what was the dream about?”
I shrugged. “The same as always.”
“Nope. You don’t get to get away with that. Your dreams haven’t been the same since the accident. Each night they’ve changed, so what was different about last night?”
My gut ached when I thought about the empty look in Devon’s eyes right before I woke up. The feel of his body as he took his last breath in my arms. The sense of déjà vu threatened to swallow me whole.
“Lincoln?” I glanced up at Dr. Dawkins, not realizing how far into my head I’d fallen. “This only works if we talk. Sitting here and wallowing in your own head doesn’t help anyone.”
“Yeah, well I never expected to go backward either. I thought I was getting better.”
“Before, you’d hit a wall, only you didn’t realize it because you avoided anything that might cause you to remember. You are getting better, even if it doesn’t feel like it. You’re learning to deal with things in the outside world. Things that you can’t always predict. Now tell me what the dream was about.”
I sighed and looked down at the ground. I couldn’t admit that I’d been the one to kill the man I loved, even if it was only in a nightmare.
“I was driving down the highway when suddenly Matt appeared in the passenger seat. One minute he was alive…” My gut churned. “Then a hole in his chest appeared. Blood began seeping through his shirt. When he started gasping for air, I tried to swerve off the road. Do what I could to help him.” The back of my throat burned as I felt the wetness on my cheeks. I furiously brushed it away, trying to stop the stem of tears, knowing it was no use. The memories of the dream were too real. Too painful.
“What happened next?” Dr. Dawkins asked when I paused.
Could I continue?
I didn’t want to tell the rest of the story, but by the look in his eyes, I knew I had to. I had to be honest with him and myself. Maybe he’d finally see that while I wanted Devon, we couldn’t be together. That I would ruin his life.
“I didn’t see him. He hadn’t been there before. The road had been empty.”
“Lincoln, was Devon in the road?”
“His truck came flying toward me. I tried to stop, but I needed to help Matt. I couldn’t stop. I couldn’t choose between them. Couldn’t choose who to save.” I buried my face in my hands as the tears that had been small drops before, raced down my face and each breath hitched my chest.
A hand landed on my shoulder. “You didn’t have to choose. Devon wasn’t hurt, Lincoln. He’s fine. I watched him play last night.”
Dr. Dawkins reassured me over and over again. When I was able to take an easy breath, I lifted my head. “I may not have killed him, but I refuse to ruin his life.”
Dr. Dawkins sat down on the couch in the seat next to me. “And how are you doing that?”
“He doesn’t need to deal with me having breakdowns every time we go out. He deserves someone normal. Someone who can make him smile. Someone he doesn’t have to take care of. Someone who isn’t stuck in the past.”
“And what about what Devon wants? Maybe he wants to be your person.”
“I doubt he wants to take care of me every time I have a panic attack. I thought they were gone, which is one of the only reasons I gave it a chance. For once, I thought I might be ready to move on. I can’t keep him when I can’t control my own head.”
Dr. Dawkins sighed. “That’s the part you’ve been missing since you started seeing me. It’s never been about getting better. These are scars that will always be with you. It’s about learning to manage them when it gets to be too much.”
“So, it’s better that I let him go. He can find someone to make him happy.”
“No, I don’t think it is. I honestly believe the reason Devon keeps appearing in your nightmares is because your subconscious is trying to remind you how much he means to you. That you truly do want him in your life.”
“How can I do that to him?”
“You’re not doing anything to him. If he wants to be your person, that’s a choice for him to make as long as you want him there.”
“I do.” I shook my head. “But I don’t deserve him.”
“You do, but you owe it to him to learn to manage your panic attacks. Tell him how to help you when they happen. I promise if you learn those things, the panic attacks won’t go away, but the nightmares might. Instead of a lost chunk of days as you struggle to cope, you may just need a few hours to relax.”
“Or I could avoid everything again and not suffer.”
Dr. Dawkins frowned. “Which will only lead you back here again. In the same place, trying to find answers. Lincoln, I promise you are ready to move on with your life, you just have to believe it.”
Was he right? Had I set myself up for a cycle of suffering because I didn’t want to face the reality that the PTSD was something that I would have to live with for the rest of my life? Maybe I didn’t always have to be alone. Maybe I could move on with Devon in my life. I’d made mistakes in my treatment, but Dr. Dawkins had told me from the beginning this was trial and error. If something didn’t work, we’d try something new.
Hiding didn’t work.
Time to try something new.
I rolled my shoulders back and clasped my hands together. “Where do we start?”