Chapter 11
Alex
As Alex drove home from his morning run with Jordan, he replayed their time together in his mind. His happiness and excitement were undeniable but intertwined with fear and insecurity.
You don’t deserve happiness. You fail everyone who counts on you.
He parked his truck in front of his rental house and sat there momentarily, lost in his thoughts. He knew he was attracted to Jordan, and the feelings seemed mutual, but a nagging voice kept whispering doubt. Alex was haunted by his past—by the scars, both visible and invisible, that he carried with him. His PTSD had left him with emotional baggage that felt too heavy to unpack.
What happens when Jordan realizes how screwed up you are?
His grip on the steering wheel tightened. He feared that his traumatic experiences might scare Jordan away once he learned the truth about his struggles. Alex couldn't shake the belief that Jordan’s attraction was purely physical, and once the emotional scars came to light, Jordan would run in the opposite direction.
Alex took a deep breath. He didn’t know how to face these fears and insecurities head-on. He wasn’t strong enough. He had always relied on his physical strength. He was not mentally strong anymore, and that scared him more than anything.
How can someone so wonderful like Jordan ever care for someone so weak, who struggles daily just to get out of bed ?
With a pitiful sigh, he exited the truck and headed inside to shower, hoping that the warm water would wash away the sweat from their run and some of the pain that clouded his mind.
That kiss, wow!
He sat on the edge of his bed, fully dressed after his shower and ready to start his day at the clinic. However, he found himself lost in thought, his mind drifting back to a painful memory with a fellow survivor, Patterson.
Patterson, like Alex, had survived the ambush that had taken the lives of three of their brothers. It had been a horrible experience, one that left deep emotional scars on both of them. But on that particular night, Patterson had turned to alcohol as a way to numb the pain.
Alex had found him in a small vacant room of the stateside VA hospital that they were transferred to, sitting on the floor, a bottle of whiskey in hand, his eyes bloodshot from crying. Patterson had been inconsolable, overwhelmed by the guilt and sadness that haunted him.
"Alex," Patterson had slurred, "I can't... I can't stop thinking about them, about what happened out there. Why did we make it out when they didn't?"
Alex sat beside him, placing a comforting hand on his friend's shoulder. "I know," he had said. "I’ve been asking myself the same question every hour since we arrived. But you have to remember, it wasn't our fault. We did everything we could to survive." He didn’t believe his words but needed to say them to his brother-in-arms.
Patterson had shaken his head, tears streaming down his face. "But it's not fair, Alex. They were good people, better than us. They both had families, kids, and futures—why did we get to live?"
Alex had wanted to offer his friend some solace, some words of comfort to ease his pain. But deep down, he had struggled with the same guilt and uncertainty. He had never been able to shake the feeling that they had somehow cheated fate and didn't deserve the second chance they had been given.
At that moment, he had wished he could honestly believe the words he spoke to Patterson. But he knew that the wounds of the past ran too deep, and no amount of reassurance could erase the haunting memories that continued to plague them both .
You lied to him, just like you lied to her. You could have saved him.
Now, as he sat on the edge of his bed, Alex revisited that painful conversation with Patterson. The guilt and doubt still lingered, a heavy burden he carried daily. He knew he had to find a way to make peace with the past but didn’t know where to start. He heard the words of the therapists, or well-meaning clergy, of friends and family. He understood the process they explained that he needed to do to heal, but he couldn’t feel the words. He couldn’t breathe.
As he replayed those traumatic moments in his head, an overwhelming sense of dread began to wash over him, and his body started to react in a way he had experienced all too often—a panic attack.
It started with a sudden surge of adrenaline as if his body was preparing for an imminent threat. His heart rate skyrocketed, pounding loudly in his chest, and he could feel the blood rushing through his veins. His breathing became rapid and shallow, each breath a struggle, like he couldn't get enough air into his lungs.
His chest tightened, and a sensation of constriction seemed to grip his entire torso. He tried to take deep breaths, but it felt like an invisible weight was pressing down on his chest, making it challenging to expand his lungs fully. His throat felt tight, and he couldn't swallow properly.
Sweat began to bead on his forehead, and his palms grew clammy. His body trembled, and he felt a surge of heat spreading throughout him. Nausea washed over him, and his stomach churned with anxiety. The room seemed to close around him, and his vision blurred as if he were disconnected from reality as he fell to the floor.
All these sensations combined to create an overwhelming feeling of terror and helplessness. Alex knew that he was experiencing a panic attack, but it was as if his body had gone into survival mode, reacting to a threat that only existed in his mind.
Desperate to regain control, he tried to focus on his breathing. Slowly, he forced himself to take deep, measured breaths, inhaling through his nose and exhaling through his mouth. It was a struggle, but gradually, his heart rate began to slow, and the tightness in his chest eased .
As the panic attack subsided, Alex was left feeling drained and emotionally raw. He lay on the floor and cried, memories continuing to haunt him, a constant reminder of the horrors of war.
After the panic attack subsided, Alex knew he needed to gather himself before facing the day ahead. He rose from the floor and walked to the bathroom, splashing cool water on his face to wash away the lingering traces of anxiety. The cold water helped ground him, bringing him back to the present.
He headed to the kitchen to prepare some food to help regain his strength. He wanted something comforting and filling, a meal to fortify him and help him face whatever challenges lay ahead. Today, he settled on a feast of protein pancakes, crispy bacon, scrambled eggs, and a protein shake.
Cooking was relaxing to Alex, so he started by mixing the pancake batter and pouring it onto a hot griddle. This created flat protein pancakes that sizzled as they cooked. The sound was soothing, and it distracted him from the residual unease of the panic attack.
While the pancakes cooked, he turned his attention to the bacon, turning the strips in a sizzling skillet. The savory aroma of bacon filled the kitchen, making his mouth water. He watched as the bacon transformed into perfectly crispy strips, knowing they'd provide that satisfying crunch he craved.
In another pan, he scrambled the eggs. The rich, buttery scent in the pan of eggs filled the kitchen, mingling with the fragrant pancakes and bacon.
Plating his breakfast, Alex felt a sense of accomplishment. The sight of the hearty meal he had prepared boosted his confidence. He knew he had faced his demons this morning, and this small victory of cooking breakfast would not have happened a year ago. A year ago, he would still be on the floor in the fetal position, crying for most of the day. He was recovering faster now from these episodes, but he was still not where he needed to be to function in society and to be the man he once was. To be what Jordan thought he was.
Sitting down at the table with his breakfast spread before him, he took a moment to appreciate the simple joys of life -– the smell of food cooking, the warmth of the kitchen, and the feeling of a random kiss that shook his core. He savored each bite, knowing a good meal could soothe the soul.
He grabbed a backpack and carefully loaded it with various food and snacks. As he stepped out of his house and headed for his truck, he felt determined. The sun was shining, and the promise of a new day filled him with optimism. He got into his car, and the roar of the engine and the blaring sound of "The Pretender" by the Foo Fighters on the radio gave him a jolt of energy. With the music pumping through the speakers and a backpack full of sustenance by his side, Alex set off for the clinic.
He realized he had won the running bet to Jordan, so he stopped at the same cafe he had visited yesterday. He was determined to get Jordan his coffee and make amends for having a ‘winning at all costs mentality.’ This time, he ordered three dozen pastries to treat the clinic staff. He figured it was a great way to make a positive impression.
Entering the cafe with purpose, Alex stepped up to the counter and was greeted by a friendly dark-haired barista.
"Hey there! What can I get you today?" she asked, her eyes sparkling.
Alex returned her smile. "I'll have a large coffee and three dozen pastries. A mix of everything you've got."
The barista's eyes widened with surprise. "Three dozen pastries? Wow, is that your secret to all of the muscles?"
Alex chuckled, a touch embarrassed. "You could say that."
While he waited for his order, the barista engaged him in friendly conversation, inquiring about his day. He left the cafe with boxes of pastries and Jordan's coffee in hand.
Alex arrived at the clinic's parking lot and noticed it buzzing with activity. The clinic's parking lot was filled with cars, and Alex had to find a spot toward the back. He noticed a school bus parked nearby and realized it was full of kids visiting the clinic. The kids wore bright yellow vests with "Student Volunteers" written on them.
As he approached the entrance, Alex saw children of various ages eagerly walking in and out of the clinic, some holding trays of food, others playing with puppies in the daycare area. The sound of laughter and excitement filled the air, creating a cheerful atmosphere. He smiled at the sight .
Carrying the bag of pastries and Jordan's coffee, Alex walked toward the entrance and through the double doors of the clinic.
The same friendly receptionist from the day before greeted Alex.
“Good morning, Elijah. How is your day going?” Alex said.
“Great, Alex. Welcome back,” Elijah responded, then reached for the ringing phone.
With a sense of familiarity, he made his way to the clinic's break area, where he intended to drop off the boxes of pastries. The breakroom was empty and immaculately clean. Alex laid out the boxes on the counter and found a marker in the drawer. He wrote on the boxes “Thank you for all that you poo for us” and drew little paw prints all over. He then wrote a little message on a napkin and withdrew a cinnamon roll from the box of goodies. Returning the marker to the drawer, he headed toward Jordan’s office with his coffee and the pastry.
Alex entered Jordan's empty office. He had a playful grin as he approached the doctor's desk, and his eyes wandered around the room. On the desk, he noticed a framed photograph of Jordan with a big, friendly dog. A stack of veterinary textbooks and medical journals sat neatly on a shelf beside the desk. Alex was impressed.
Turning his attention to a bulletin board on the wall, Alex saw a collection of notes, reminders, and photographs. There was a picture of Jordan with his clinic team, all beaming with camaraderie. On a smaller cork board nearby, there were a few handwritten motivational quotes. One that caught Alex's eye read, "The best therapist has fur and four legs." Another note made Alex laugh: "What does Santa Claus say when he loses hearing aids? ‘Huh? Huh? Huh?’”
As Alex placed the coffee and pastry on Jordan's desk, he realized that each item in the room offered a glimpse into the man he was growing increasingly fond of—a caring man who was passionate about his work, dedicated to his team, and deeply connected to the animals he cared for. It made Alex all the more eager to get to know Jordan better, both as a professional and as a person.