session four
After a quick text to Harry to find out if he would be available this morning, to which he responded he could be if I needed him, I jumped in my car and made my way to The Bunker as soon as humanly possible.
In too much of a hurry to climb the steps, I leap onto the portico and yank the door open in one swift move that surprises even me.
I don’t even stop to grab coffee, too antsy to wait for it to be made. Too antsy to get some damn answers.
I bulldoze my way into Harry’s office and come to a crashing stop when I find it empty.
My chest heaves as I spin on the spot as if I’ve somehow overlooked the man hiding in a corner of the room.
Pushing my hand through my hair, frustration floods my bloodstream and tension radiates from my body in a wave.
Damn. I didn’t figure on beating him here.
The urgency that tightened my muscles is replaced with disappointment.
My shoulders sag and I blow out a long, heavy breath.
I walk closer to the window and peer out at the community garden to check if he’s out there.
Craning my neck, I look around, but can’t see him anywhere, but I think it’s too cold for anyone to be wandering outside.
I remove my jacket and toss it over the back of my usual chair.
“Ah, the hero of the moment. Your face has been all over the news.” Harry steps deeper into the room, holding out a steaming cup of coffee to me, which I accept with gratitude.
I don’t want to talk about that right now.
It’s the furthest thing from my mind. “You dealt with that situation admirably, but need I remind you it’s no longer your job,” he says in a matter-of-fact tone while raising an eyebrow at me and I don’t know how he did it, but I feel as if I’ve been chastised.
I shake my head and huff. “I just wanted to take my wife out on a surprise date, and the situation was blocking my way to Abbi. It didn’t matter in the end; by the time it was handled, Abbi was home and I missed my opportunity,” I grumble, causing Harry to double over with laughter. “It’s not fucking funny,” I snap.
“Maybe not. How is dating your wife going?”
“It would be better if I didn’t get waylaid. We’ve had a couple of dates that have gone well enough. I’ve opened up a little and Abbi’s been as open-hearted as she always is.” She’s always been too good for me.
He stands straight, still fighting a smile, and holds his hand out toward one of the overstuffed chairs. “How about you take a seat and we can chat.”
I do as he suggests, both of us getting comfortable, then sip my coffee. Harry sits and waits for me to start; he’s exceptional at sitting in silence while I gather my thoughts. “I need to be able to sleep in the same bed as my wife,” I blurt.
His white eyebrows shoot up. “Where do you currently sleep?”
“In the guest bed,” I grunt quietly, embarrassed to admit that I’m too fucking scared to sleep in the same bed as my wife. Too ashamed that I’m failing my wife at a fundamental level.
He pushes deeper into his chair as he studies me, and it takes everything in me not to squirm like a child under his watchful gaze. “How long have you been sleeping separately?”
“A while,” I mumble as I fight to hold still.
“How long is a while, Nix?” he probes, not willing to let it go.
I turn away from him, staring out of the window, unseeing. That night will always haunt me. The way I put Abbi in imminent danger at my hand is not a memory that can be easily forgotten. “Pretty much the entire time I’ve been home.” I push the words out past my shame.
“Th-that’s six years ago!” he stutters, losing his composure. I know it’s bad when Harry’s mask slips.
I lean forward, dropping my elbows to my knees and my eyes to the rug. I link my fingers, squeezing them almost painfully. “I know,” I grit. “I honestly don’t know how I’ve let it go on for this long. I miss her.”
“I’m sure you do.” I feel his stare burn into the side of my face and turn my head to look at him. “You want to talk about how this sleeping arrangement came to be?”
Not really. I just want the issue solved so I can wrap my body around Abbi’s in a peaceful sleep. Then, I remember Harry’s rule about sharing all of my thoughts while I’m with him, and I repeat the words from my head out loud.
Harry nods sagely. “I completely understand, but for you to be able to sleep in the same bed as your wife, we need to get to the root of the problem. So, start at the beginning and tell me why you don’t share a bed anymore.”
He listens carefully as I share my story, sipping his coffee now and then.
When I finish, he sits quietly for a moment, the silence crawling over my skin like thousands of tiny ants.
Prickles of uncertainty make their way down my spine as I wait for him to share his usual words of wisdom.
It takes sheer determination on my part to sit beneath his thoughtful gaze as he observes me quietly.
“I can see how that would be distressing, and I want to start out by saying you are not alone in your experience with night terrors. I obviously can’t go into detail, but many men who come to see me experience them.
” He leans forward, holding my gaze. “Do you understand that I’m telling you this is a common experience among returned servicemen and women? ”
I nod. I figured as much, but it doesn’t make it easier to accept.
“Okay, so I assume you were reasonably satisfied with this arrangement. Apart from wanting to save your marriage, what has brought you to the point today to make you seek help regarding this particular arrangement?” Harry asks.
There’s no judgement in his tone, just a question to help me dig into my reasons for acting today, and it makes it easier to share my purpose for seeking him out.
I sit up and rest my hands on the padded arms of my chair.
“After what happened last night, the need to feel connected to each other was strong. Abbi assumed I’d return to our bed, but I-I couldn’t do it.
Fear for her safety held me back, and I left her to sleep alone.
Again.” I wonder if Harry can hear the self-disgust in my voice?
“To keep her safe?”
I sigh loudly. “Obviously.”
“I see.” He hums at the back of his throat. “You don’t think enough time has passed since returning? You think you’re still a risk?”
“I know I’m still a risk. I don’t have night terrors as often as I used to, but each morning I wake twisted in my bedding. I know I’m not sleeping soundly. And after the events of yesterday, I didn’t trust myself not to have a night terror.”
“And did you?”
I narrow my eyes at Harry with confusion. “Did I what?”
“Have a night terror last night?”
“Not that I’m aware of, but my bedding was a shitshow this morning.” I shrug.
He sips his coffee slowly; I’m sure to give him time to gather his thoughts.
“So you assumed you would inadvertently hurt your wife, but it didn’t happen, so you wasted an opportunity to share a bed with her?
To reconnect at a time when life felt truly fragile.
” He presses on. “How did Abbi feel about you sleeping elsewhere again last night?”
I swallow past the agony of the memory of last night that rises. The pain and disappointment in her tear-filled eyes when she realized I still couldn’t sleep in the same bed as her. “She was … upset.”
“I can imagine.” He pauses. “How did that sound and look?”
“I think she assumed I’d sleep in our bed. Once she realized I wouldn’t be joining her, I watched devastation sweep over her, but all she showed me was compassion and love as I explained my reasons. That I needed to keep her safe. That I never wanted to hurt her again.”
“You realize you hurt her, anyway?”
I nod, drawing a deep breath. “I know. It fucking killed me to refuse her. I wanted, more than anything, to slide into that bed with her. Wrap myself around her, lie with her in my arms all night, and wake to her sleeping on my chest this morning. But I don’t fucking trust myself to keep her safe while I sleep.
I’m gutted. My entire psyche is built around keeping people safe.
And worse, I feel if I can’t get on top of this, the gains we’ve made in our relationship will be lost for good. ”
He nods slowly, and I can see him thinking deeply about my predicament. “Why do you think you were strangling someone in your sleep?”
I breathe deeply and tilt my head from side to side, stretching out the tense muscles in my neck.
“I was so fucking furious after the IED attack. I wanted to kill the motherfuckers who’d orchestrated it.
I often imagined hunting them down and killing them with my bare hands.
Of course, I couldn’t do any of that because I was in the hospital and then shipped home.
I never got the opportunity to …”—I shake my head and lean forward again, burying my head in my hands—“I never got to punish the men who killed Wyatt and injured Shane. Not to mention murdering one of their own children. Who the fuck does something so heinous?” I thump my chest and rub the heel of my hand over the space.
“I have all this anger that I’ve tried to push down …
tried to ignore … tried to forget inside of me.
But it’s like a toxic wasteland that grows and spreads like a disease inside of me.
The bigger it becomes, the angrier I grow that I can’t seem to control it.
It’s why I don’t share stuff with Abbi; I don’t want to expose her to the darkness inside of me.
” I take a breath. “I don’t want her to be exposed to the darkness inside me.
It’s one of the reasons why I focus so much on building my business.
It gives me somewhere to expend my energy and focus. ”