Chapter 16 #2
“Ace.” She strokes my cheek. “Do not apologize for having a nightmare.” Empathy softens her features. “Do you want to talk about it?”
No. Not really.
I don’t want to talk about those horrible memories with anyone. And I really don’t want to tell Yara about how I dreamed she was dead. And how I’m pretty sure it was my fault.
But Yara was honest with me. She shared her darkest memories with me. Doesn’t she deserve the same from me?
But what if she judges you, a fearful, worried voice silently asks. What if the truth ruins everything?
“You don’t have to,” Yara adds gently. “I understand if you’re not ready. But I’m here whenever you are.”
She’s giving me an out. And I almost take it.
But if I want a future with her, a real future, it’s only right that I tell her everything. So I puff out another heavy breath. Then I let go of her, shifting so my back is against the headboard. “I’m not sure I’ll ever feel ready,” I admit. “But I want to tell you. I need to.”
Yara moves so she’s sitting next to me. Her hand comes to my thigh. “Okay.”
My jaw tenses. Staring across the darkened room at the sliver of moonlight peeking through the bedroom window, I take one last steadying breath before saying, “It all started after the mission in Afghanistan.”
Yara squeezes my leg in silent encouragement.
“My split team was sent to a town outside Jalalabad to neutralize a high-value target. The intel was sound, the plan was good, it should have been a quick in and out. But right before we were about to breach the building where he was supposed to be, we were ambushed.”
Pausing, I steal a quick glance at Yara.
This part of the story is too close to what happened to her, and I’m afraid my experience might trigger her.
But her features are carefully neutral, not giving anything away.
“It’s okay,” she murmurs, reading my hesitation. “You can tell me. I can handle it.”
“During the ambush, Garrett was injured. He was closest to the explosion, and it knocked him back. At first, he was walking. Talking. We retreated, found cover to regroup, and then… he collapsed. Internal bleeding.”
My jaw clenches, sending pain shooting through it. “We tried to get him back to camp in time. But it was too late. He died on the way.”
Yara’s head comes to my shoulder. “I’m sorry,” she whispers.
“Sawyer, another of my teammates, disappeared during the ambush. We went back later to search for his body, but couldn’t find anything. Then we discovered he’d betrayed us. Sold us out.”
An angry hiss comes from Yara’s direction.
I shift my attention from my lap to her face. “We thought he’d betrayed us. That’s what our superior told us. There was proof. I saw it. Everything pointed to Sawyer taking a payoff, then taking off for parts unknown.”
She nods, silently urging me to continue.
“After that, our team wasn’t the same. Garrett, he was my best friend.
And Sawyer… he was a brother to me. Alec, he was another teammate, decided not to renew his contract.
Then I was approached about joining Delta—they wanted another HAZMAT expert—and it seemed like a good way to get a fresh start. ”
“But?”
“It wasn’t a fresh start. A new team didn’t erase the memories. And I started to struggle with—” I stop. My chest goes tight.
“Ace.” Yara takes my hand. “You can tell me anything.”
In a low tone, I say, “I started to struggle with anxiety. Paranoia. Instead of feeling confident going into an op, all I could think about were all the ways things could go wrong. At first, I thought I’d get past it. But then… my dad got sick.”
Her fingers lace between mine, squeezing gently.
“Congestive heart failure,” I explain. “So ironic, because he’d always been in such good shape. He was a Ranger before he retired. He’s the reason I enlisted.”
“He must have been so proud of you.”
I shrug. “He was. But that’s because he didn’t know how badly I failed.”
“Failed?”
“I failed my team. Garrett. Sawyer.” Shaking my head, I continue, “He wasn’t a traitor, after all. Our superior was the one who took the payoff and set Sawyer up to take the fall. Sawyer was in captivity—”
I stop, afraid of triggering her.
“You can tell me.”
“Four years. Four fucking years. He just got out last year. He’s doing better now, but shit. I thought he was a traitor. I hated him. When I should have believed in him instead.”
“That’s not your fault,” Yara says. “If your superior told you—”
“Rationally, I know that. But it doesn’t help.” I shake my head again. “Anyway. My dad got sick, but I was on a months-long op, and I couldn’t get back to see him until… Shit. He only had weeks left.”
“But he understood. Being a Ranger…”
“He did. But it didn’t give me back the months I lost with him. It didn’t make me feel like any less of a failure of a son.”
“Ace.”
“After he died, I went back to work. Threw myself into it, really. But the anxiety…”
“It got worse, didn’t it?” Yara’s voice is soft with understanding.
“It did. A lot worse. I couldn’t sleep. Couldn’t eat. Couldn’t focus. My mind wouldn’t stop buzzing. I tried those stupid meditation apps, yoga, hikes in the woods, but nothing helped. Then… I was on an op, and I froze up. Panicked. Literally couldn’t move.”
“Like what happened to me in Tacoma.”
“Kind of.” I turn to her. “Except I could have gotten my team killed.”
“You didn’t, though.”
“Not that time. But what about the next? I couldn’t risk it. And honestly, I was a fucking mess back then. So I took medical leave. And a couple months later, my contract was up. I didn’t renew it because I couldn’t handle being Delta anymore. Couldn’t handle being a soldier anymore.”
“Ace.”
“Everyone thinks I went back to Texas to help my mom. But it’s not true. She had Spence. His family. She was fine. I was the mess. But I let everyone believe it. Better that than the truth, that I had to quit because I couldn’t handle it anymore.”
Moonlight catches Yara’s face, casting a soft glow across her features. “Does anyone know?”
I shake my head before admitting, “No. You’re the first person I’ve told.”
“Ace.” She shifts closer to me. “I’m so sorry you went through all that. But thank you for sharing it with me. For trusting me with it.”
“I thought you should know. That I’m not this brave Delta Force guy, but a coward who bailed on his team. Both teams.”
“Did you think I would judge you?” she asks. “Ace. I left the Army because the idea of going back out on an op made me physically ill. I couldn’t even go back to base without throwing up first.”
“But you had good reason—”
“So did you.” Yara’s expression turns fierce. “You had every reason to struggle, Ace. And it’s nothing to be—” She sighs. “I judged myself for it. Leaving.”
“You shouldn’t have.”
Her gaze holds mine. “Neither should you. Anxiety, depression, paranoia—they’re all symptoms of PTSD. And they’re nothing to be ashamed of, Ace. Not for anyone. Even a badass guy like you.”
“Not so badass.”
“Yes.” Yara moves in front of me and settles on her knees, so her face is level with mine. “Yes, Ace. You are the same brave, selfless, incredible person you’ve always been. And if you need me to remind you of that, I will. Every day. Every hour. As many times as it takes to make you believe it.”
My heart twists. “Yara.”
“We can help each other,” she says. “Because we both understand.”
My throat thickens again. “I always want to help you.”
“And I always want to help you.” Her lips press gently against mine. “You have nothing to be ashamed of, Ace. I mean it. Nothing.”
Emotion wells up inside me, so fast and intense it’s hard to breathe through it. “Yara. Do you know how amazing you are?”
“Do you?” she shoots back.
“It’s not the same.”
There’s a glint of challenge in her eyes. “Are you calling me a liar?”
“No. Never.”
Her chin lifts. “So I’m right, then.”
My mouth twitches despite itself. “I guess so.”
Yara kisses me again, longer this time. “I’m right,” she affirms. “You’re brave and kind and strong and incredible. And—” She pauses for emphasis. “You’re the best man I’ve ever met.”
“Yara.” I pull her close, bowing my head over hers. “You’re the best person I know. Hands down.”
She tilts her head back to meet my gaze. A wry smile pulls at her lips.
“What?” I ask.
“Well. I was just thinking, since we’re up…”
“BattleBots?”
“Not quite.”
“What, then?”
Her hand comes to my stomach, tracing the lines of muscle there. They quiver at her touch. “I’ve read that sex is a great way to help you get back to sleep.”
My dick jumps eagerly, clearly unaffected by my nightmare and subsequent confession. “Is it, then?” I ask.
“I’ve heard it is.”
The weight on my chest releases. “Well.” I climb over her, pressing her gently down. Then I kiss the little spot right above her collarbone; the one that makes her shiver with pleasure every time I touch it. “Since I woke you up, it’s only right that I help you get back to sleep.”
Yara smiles up at me. Her hand slides underneath my waistband. “You’re right,” she replies. “You definitely should.”