Chapter 26 #2
“That guilt is valid too.” Valerie’s brown eyes were soft with sympathy. “There’s little moral high ground in war. We all did things we regret, orders or not.”
“Yep.” Ron gave an empathetic noise. “Fifty years on, and the ghosts of certain orders haunt me.”
“Ghosts is a good way to put it,” I admitted. I knew a thing or two about haunting, the voices that continued to ring in my ears, the shadows that lurked in dark corners, memories I didn’t want to touch.
“But I’ve learned to tell the ghosts to bug off.” Ron turned his ball cap over in his hands. “You can’t keep punishing yourself for things in the past when you were simply trying to survive.”
I squished my eyes shut. “Not sure I know how to stop.”
Ron was right. I’d been punishing myself for years, holding people at arm’s length, convinced I didn’t deserve the same happiness I wished for others.
Even now, I didn’t feel worthy of the future Carson wanted for us.
And I was driving him away, not because of my job or hours, but because I couldn’t allow myself to enjoy the good thing we’d found.
You can’t let yourself be happy, Carson had said. What would letting go of this guilt feel like? It had been with me so long. I wasn’t sure I had the key to that locked box or what might happen if I opened it.
“You need to try,” Carson said, laying a hand on my knee.
“Yeah.” My voice was as weak as a newborn foal.
“Take off that heavy pack, soldier.” One of the newcomers spoke up, the clear, crisp tones of an officer. “I’m guilty of shit orders. I live with that every day, but I can’t let it own me.”
“Exactly.” Ron clapped his hands.
Conversation continued around the circle, but the roar in my brain made it hard to pay attention. My eyes drifted closed again, my mind replaying the worst day of my life. You’re not at fault. Oh, how I wanted to believe that.
Deep in my head, I missed the end of the meeting, not even registering Simone’s announcements and reminders. Carson nudged my shoulder.
“Ready to go?”
“Yeah.” I stood on rubbery legs. Ron crossed the circle to clap me on the back.
“Nice work sharing, Doc.” His voice was as rough as his well-worn hand. “We’ve all been there. Keep coming back.”
“I will.” My voice shook.
I’d sat in these meetings for years, figuring the least I could do was show up, but never realizing I was coming for me as well. I needed this. If I was ever going to lay down this guilt, I needed the same help I’d tried to offer others. I needed this place far more than it needed me.
My mental haze continued, but somehow, I made it back to the truck with Carson.
“I’m driving.” After gently steering me toward the passenger door, he held out a hand for the keys.
“Okay.” I could admit I was in no shape to drive.
Carson had driven Colt’s truck enough that I trusted him to get us to the brew pub. However, Carson didn’t hit the ignition button after he climbed into the driver’s seat. Instead, he put an arm around me, squeezing me close.
“I’m proud of you.”
“For sharing?” I tilted my head so I could meet his gaze. I certainly didn’t feel brave.
“That. Making it out. Being you.” Carson’s eyes were soft and sincere, the sort of empathy I wasn’t sure I deserved, but my parched soul drank it down like lemonade anyway.
“I want to let go of the guilt.” My voice continued its unsteady waver, but I wanted Carson to hear this. “I want to be happy. I do.”
“I want you happy too.” He pressed a fast kiss to my temple. Releasing me, he spent several long minutes staring at the steering wheel before he inhaled sharply. “I blame myself for the TBI.”
“How?” I’d never considered that he might also be carrying the heavy weight of guilt around. He was so damn competent. I couldn’t imagine him messing up, but he gave a grave nod.
“I gave an order. Turned out to be bad intel.” Shaking his head, he blew out a ragged breath. “Damned IED fucked up the convoy. Paid the price.”
“Not your fault.” Voice far more firm, I rubbed his upper arm. “You did the best you could with the information you had at the time.”
“Say that again,” Carson commanded, all sergeant and as serious as I’d seen him.
“You did the best…” I trailed off as I realized who he was having me repeat the words for. “Oh. I did the best I could at the time.”
“Yep.” Carson tilted my chin, forcing me to see how certain he was, how much he believed in me. “You were a kid. You followed an order.”
I let myself see eighteen-year-old Jude. God, I’d been so young. I was a kid. I followed an order. I did the best I could. The lock to that box of guilt shattered, years of emotion breaking free as tears rolled down my cheeks. I couldn’t stop them and wasn’t sure I wanted to.
“Felt like losing my friends that day and then my parents later was my punishment,” I admitted between sobs.
“It wasn’t.” Carson squeezed my shoulder.
“And then I just kept right on punishing myself.” I exhaled so hard my throat burned. “I didn’t think I deserved to be happy.”
“You do.” Carson held me close, unbothered by my crying. “We both do.”
“Trying to believe that.” I gave a futile swipe at my eyes.
“Nothing you did changes this.” Carson pulled away so he could tap his chest, right above his heart.
“Oh.” Time stood still, the enormity of what he’d said sinking in slowly like a soaker hose over a long dormant flower bed. My chest swelled, the empty spot that box of guilt had occupied replaced by something altogether new: hope.
“Jude?” Carson made me look at him again. “I love you.”
“Now?” I blinked. I was falling apart in a public parking lot, damp and soggy with years of repressed guilt and shame, barely able to get a coherent thought together. And he loved me now?
“Yeah, now.” He chuckled like I was being ridiculous.
“I’m a mess.”
He shrugged. “Turns out I like mess.”
“You haven’t known me that long. Only a couple of months. What if—”
“Long enough to know.” Carson silenced me with a finger against my lips. “Not changing my mind.”
His eyes never wavered. Damn. He actually meant it. And this was Carson, the guy I trusted to keep his word. If he said he loved me, he must. And if he said he wasn’t leaving, he wouldn’t.
“I might love you too,” I whispered like a lower volume could make the truth less terrifying.
“Might.” Chuckling, Carson rolled his eyes at me before leaning in for a fast kiss. “Gonna have to work on that.”
“That sounds ominous.” It felt good to join his laughter.
“Good to have goals.” Carson used his index finger to check things off an imaginary list. “Get you to drop that might.”
“I think that could be arranged.” I wasn’t sure if I was bold enough to say it right this moment, but like Carson said, it was a good goal.
And I knew in my heart it was true. Didn’t matter how many months.
I simply knew, and maybe I had from the instant I’d walked into the horse barn his first day.
“Good.” Carson gave me another sound kiss. “Next goal is family dinner.”
“Family dinner?” I made a pained noise. “Give you an inch…”
“Maverick and Colt invited you.”
“Well, since you love me.” My voice caught on love as I tried the sentence out, but it felt true. Carson did love me. I could lean into that truth. “I guess I can be brave.”
“That’s the spirit.” Carson nodded like our love and the dinner going well were done deals.
That tendril of hope continued to unfurl in my chest, like a crocus after a hard winter. Hope could choke out the weeds of guilt and shame if I cultivated it enough. I wanted that, wanted to live in a world where hope and love replaced my doubts.