Chapter 5
Five
Tucker
“Oh my God, that was the cutest thing I’ve ever seen!
You and that hockey player were so hot together.
When you get married, I’ll have the photos of how you met to share at the wedding,” Cami gushes as she scrolls through the camera roll on her phone while I navigate through traffic in downtown Atlanta.
“I hate you so much.” I groan, running a palm across my face as I stare at the cars in front of me.
“None of that is happening. One, there isn’t going to be a wedding because the hockey player is obviously straight.
He has a kid, Cami. Just because his wife wasn’t at the event doesn’t mean there isn’t a woman in his life.
Two, you’re getting way ahead of yourself, and I can’t believe you gave him my phone number and were so pushy.
He probably thinks we’re both crazy, and even if he was cool with me after the whole leash incident, he’s never going to call now. ”
I could have made a new friend at the very least, and now I don't even have a chance of that happening, thanks to my nosy sister, who decided to insert herself where she didn’t belong.
“See, I knew you liked him! You were blushing so hard when you were all wrapped up together. He’s exactly your type.
Tall, dark, and huge. His muscles were beautiful, and despite being a dad, I didn’t catch even a hint of a dad bod.
What did he feel like? Was he rock-hard like I imagined? ” she asks, bouncing in her seat.
Oh, he was hard alright, but I won’t be telling her anything more.
She doesn't need any encouragement. “Let it go, Cam. I told you I wasn’t looking for a date at that event, so it’s not like you need to read into every interaction I have.
You can't try to set me up with everyone I talk to just because I’m gay.
Especially the straight guys. You know how well that works. ”
“He was super chatty and hung out with you more than his teammates. That says something,” she says cheerfully, undeterred by my arguments in the least.
“His kid was crazy about the puppy, so he was staying close by for that reason alone. He was nice enough to make small talk while he was standing there instead of being awkwardly silent. It had nothing to do with me.”
“God, you’re so frustrating. You’re like a damn straight guy sometimes with how you can’t read the signs. Pretty much as bad as Max and Hunter.”
“Take that back,” I warn, hurt that she would lump me in with our cousins and any man who doesn’t have a clue how to act civilly.
“Fine, you’re not that bad, just close. But really, he was at least a little into you, and that’s what matters. I know these things, trust me. I’m a natural matchmaker. Just look at Hayden and Ava. They’ve been together for two years since I set them up.”
I scoff at her bringing up two of our trainers.
“You’re irrational and annoying is what you are.
Hayden and Ava liked each other before you decided to interfere.
You can't take credit for something that was inevitable.” I shake my head, not sure why we’re continuing this bullshit argument.
“Regardless, you gotta drop this. Sebastian is straight and not into me, and if he ever does reach out, it’ll be because he’s a nice guy with a kid who wants to hang out with some dogs, not because he wants to end up in my bed.
I won't be reading into anything, and you shouldn't either.”
“You’re no fun,” she mutters, going back to her phone. “I’m posting a photo of you wrapped up with him anyway, people will love it.”
I sigh as she finally leaves me alone despite doing everything in her power to make my life hell.
“Atlas, to me,” I call, instructing the dog to return.
The Malinois rushes to my side and stays there while we walk through the woods as I chuck a stick down the well-trodden path.
“Retrieve,” I say, and he charges after it, finding the stick and running happily through the trees as I follow.
“Back to me,” I call, and he returns with the stick.
I let him carry it, looking at me before I give him the command to run freely for a bit so he can get his energy out off-leash.
Rowan and Hayden are working with two other dogs along the same path, while Ava and Cami are back at the facility running a few more through the agility course.
Still, that’s only half the adult dogs who need exercise, and we’ll be working on training the others this afternoon before I take in the private clients for the evening.
When I started this training business a few years ago, I never imagined it would be such a hustle.
Everyone always says if you do the thing you love, you’ll never work a day in your life.
What they should really say is that if you’re doing the thing you love, you’re working even harder because you care so much more about it and want to see your business succeed.
Between the actual training, the admin work behind the scenes, and taking care of almost twenty dogs and puppies who live on site, I’m working longer hours than I did even as a police officer.
“Lux and Thorn are really coming along,” Rowan says, falling back to walk next to me as he watches the big German Shepherd and the black lab that are running through the trees, chasing each other.
Thorn is the stud we use for breeding service dogs with Ivy, and we’ve had some incredible companions come from their litters.
I got Lux to train for the Atlanta PD to be a K9 officer, but ultimately decided I couldn’t send her to the force.
Lux is from the same line as my former partner, Titan, and she has a lot of his characteristics, though she’s not exactly like him.
No dog will ever be like him. He was one of a kind, and I owe my life to him.
Lux glances back at me, then bolts forward, looking so much like Titan that I’m transported to another time, and another place instantly with a surge of memories so viscerally real I can’t tell them apart from my actual reality.
My brain conjures up the pattern for the next inevitability, and I’m lost to it.
A cold sweat slicks my skin despite the heat and humidity of the September air in the surrounding woods.
My vision grows blurry, no longer seeing the trees and brush of my property.
I’m in the urban sprawl of Atlanta, in a dark corner of the city.
The sounds of birds, dogs, and people fade around me as the pounding of shoes slapping along pavement becomes audible.
My throat grows raw as I suck desperate breaths into my lungs while I give chase, screaming out Stop.
All this assaults my ears between bouts of ringing silence.
STOP.
Silence.
Shots crack the stillness.
One-two. Silence.
Running. Fass.
One-two. Silence.
My screams pierce the night air.
Pain. So much pain, it’s ripping me apart.
“You okay, Tuck?” Rowan asks.
I look up and realize I’ve stopped walking.
My vision clears slowly, the buildings and pursuit fading to reveal the familiar woods around me.
The sounds of my everyday life replace those of the distant chase and lethal shots to remind me that I left the demons of my mistakes, my old life, and memories that haunt me, in the past where they belong. Where I left Titan.
Now, I’m just an asshole on my knees in the dirt, hands shaking as I hold pressure on the phantom wound on my abdomen, staring after the dogs as they chase each other through the trees.
I was only lost in my thoughts, falling into the dark memories that I’ve tried to run from, push down, forget.
Yet, those memories continue to come back so vividly to sucker punch me in the gut when I least expect it, anyway.
I drag a clammy hand down my face. It comes away sweaty, the scent thick from fear, despair, anguish, hatred.
“Fi—” I clear my throat to get the words out. “I’m fine,” I manage weakly.
Rowan kneels next to me as Hayden backtracks to meet up with us, the dogs at his heels.
Lux noses into my shoulder, tracing her snout along my chest, finding my hand that still lingers just above my left hip, and licks my fingers.
She lies next to me and puts her head on my folded knees, wiggling her snout under my hand until I absently stroke her head.
Heat pricks the backs of my eyes, and my chest constricts further as the dog I’ve been training to pick up on PTSD signs and work as a service dog is now responding to me without a command. Fuck.
Hayden and Rowan place comforting hands on my back and shoulder, giving me space to breathe and their comforting presence as I shake off the dregs of the memories and gain control of my racing heart.
They’ve both seen me break down, lose my shit, and worse in the two years they’ve worked with me, so this is tame in comparison.
It’s still embarrassing as hell to have my little episodes in front of the guys I employ.
I shake my head and blow out an unsteady breath, straightening from my collapsed position in the dirt, and standing up so their well-meaning hands fall from me.
“I’m okay,” I assure them, running a hand over Lux’s head. I’m reassuring her as much as I am myself and the guys. “Let’s head back to the barn. I’m useless today.” I stand, dusting the dirt off my knees before setting off back down the trail.
“The flashbacks still coming out of nowhere?” Rowan asks quietly as he falls into step beside me. He was a friend before I started Combat Companions and has seen my pain and progress.
I met him while working with the Georgia Bureau of Investigation's body recovery K9 unit. He worked full-time with the GBI, while I was only called in when they needed extra K9 support for a search. He’s a good dude who’s seen some grisly stuff throughout his time in the military and then with the GBI.
Rowan was more than willing to join me out here in the woods when I started this business, saying he needed a change of pace just like I did.
Seeing the worst of humanity regularly can wear on your soul.
Dogs helped him heal after his service overseas, where he was stationed in Afghanistan with his Ranger unit.
He’s been an enormous help with the veteran portion of the business, knowing the ins and outs of the military and how we can best connect our dogs with the right people.
His hand landing on my shoulder brings me back to his question, and I look over quickly. “Here and there,” I answer honestly. “Some things just trigger them, and I can’t anticipate it. It fucks with me, man. I just want to be normal.”
“Come on, we both know there’s no such thing as normal.
Everyone’s messed up, and they’re all just faking it, so it looks like there’s this status quo we’re supposed to be achieving.
You should come to Group with me.” He squeezes my neck before he moves his hand back to my shoulder while the offer hovers between us.
I shake my head. “That’s not for me. I don’t like sharing in front of everyone. I’ll work through it with my therapist, behind a computer screen in the comfort of my own home like the true closed-off man I am.”
He chuckles at my self-deprecating humor. “The offer stands, and I’m always here if you want to talk to someone other than your therapist,” Rowan assures me before letting his hand and the conversation drop.