CHAPTER NINETEEN
JAYDEN
––––––––
“Spill,” Liam says, sipping his glass of beer and wiping off the mustache it leaves.
I do the same, mostly to buy myself a little more time, but also because I wish we’d met at my house instead of a bar. Seemed like a good idea at the time. Now I feel strangely vulnerable and wish we had more privacy.
“How was your first week, Jay? Good, Liam. Thanks for asking.” I roll my eyes.
“Nice try.”
“How’s my sister? Sick of her yet?”
“Do you want an invitation to the wedding?” Liam lifts a brow.
No.
That’s a lie. Liam would never ask anyone else to be his best man, and no one is stopping me from watching my little sister get married.
Jessie is my baby sister. As far as siblings go, we were close. I remember so clearly the day Mom and Dad told me I was getting a baby sister, and the day they brought her home. I felt this powerful need to protect her and make sure no one ever hurt her.
Like it was my job. My duty. And I did from that very first moment. Which included telling my best buddy to keep his hands off her. Well, he and every guy that came near her, even if it pissed her off.
I guess I’m happy Jessie’s marrying a good guy, one I know will treat her well and love her until his dying breath.
And all that romantic shit.
My eyes cast across the room full of patrons, the music just loud enough to converse, as my mind wanders.
Does Tiffany dream of having a white wedding?
Christ, imagine it!
It’d be some huge public affair with half the internet having an opinion on what she was wearing, the flowers, the guy...
After having my cock deep inside her for several hours yesterday—and I’m talking almost every orifice—the last thing I want to think about is some man taking her as his wife.
Hasn’t bothered you before with any other woman.
It’s just the timing. It was only yesterday, and I spent a whole week almost glued to her side.
Excuses.
“Hello. Earth to Jayden.”
Huh?
“Oh...yeah. Cute that you think you’re in charge of the guest list.” I smirk.
He concedes. “Listen, when your time comes, the best thing to do is back away slowly and just say yes, dear.”
“Let me guess, our two mothers and Jessie have you cornered.”
“Dude, I just threw my wallet at them and ran.”
We laugh and sip our beers, both aware that my distraction tactic worked.
I lean back and sigh, laying one arm on the wooden table. I stare at the tattoos along my arm, reflect on my watch I bought in Australia while in the Air Force, and how being a pilot—and sniper—changed my life.
It shaped my life.
Now, who am I?
“So, what happened?” Liam asked.
“You heard the gossip.”
“You fucked her?” He nods. “But I don’t mean that. I mean, last year. When you returned and came back a different man.”
Fuck.
Here we go.
“It was nothing different from what all of us have seen during live fire. It’s fucked up.” I rub the back of my neck. “But my brain broke. So I’m fucked.”
Liam shakes his head. “Bullshit.”
Our eyes lock.
I was expecting that response, if I’m honest.
“You have to say that; you’re my best friend.” I tell him.
“Have you met me?” Liam props an elbow up on the back of the seat. “I’m going to hazard a guess that what you saw was through the sight of your rifle.”
I shake my head over and over, then stare down into the froth of my beer. “Shape it however you want, Liam. Soldiers on the ground see things a lot closer than I did. It’s me. I’m the problem.”
“Tell me.”
I lift my face. “I can’t.”
“Tell me something,” he pushes.
“Two women blown to pieces from something my aircraft sent their way. Flesh flying as a young boy runs looking for his mother.”
He curses.
“The worst part, one of them glanced up. She must have heard or sensed us up there and, fuck...” I have to take a deep breath. “My memory is probably warped, but I see her eyes lock with mine before every particle of her body is ripped apart.”
“Jesus, Jay.” He rubs a hand over his face.
Well, I wasn’t sugarcoating it.
It’s not like Liam hasn’t seen much the same thing. As a pilot, he’s done time in the skies and on the ground. All of us have seen death.
Much of it makes no sense.
Hell, none of it makes sense.
We’re all just taking and losing our lives for men behind iron desks. Men who make decisions to protect our country...but do they?
Because it’s one fucking war after another.
Then another, and another.
Since the beginning of time.
Is war the nature of man?
I’ve tried to make sense of it. Seeing women and children as casualties of war doesn’t make sense, despite it being a reality.
“The dreams started almost immediately. Nightmares,” I tell him. “Then the anxiety. I didn’t know what it was to start with. First, it was an uneasy response to going on another mission. Then every time I’d climb into a jet.”
“Shit,” Liam curses, knowing the seriousness of that. We aren’t going on joyrides. Every member of the team needs to bring their A-game.
“I’d start sweating, my heart rate dangerously high.”
“Did you speak to one of the MFLC’s?” Liam asks, referring to the Military and Family Life Counselors.
No.
I didn’t.
Unless someone has experienced PTSD, they wouldn’t understand the strong desire to not talk about it.
Hell, even acknowledging it exists is difficult. Sweating, heart pounding...you just tell yourself to man up and get over it, that we’re soldiers and our role is to deal with this stuff.
It’s what we are trained for.
If we can’t...we’ve failed.
That is what I don’t want my father to know. To look him in the eye and say I wasn’t man enough.
When I don’t respond, Liam shakes his head. “So, you’ve been dealing with this on your own.”
“It’s fine.”
“It’s not fucking fine.” He leans forward on the table, keeping his voice low as he grates out the words. “I saw what happened, your reaction. You can’t live like that.”
I glance away for a moment, then back at him. “You mean I can’t do this job? I know. Don’t you think I know? I told Josh I’m resigning.”
“You what?”
I shrug, but I’m not calm about this at all. What the hell am I going to do without this job? I can’t re-enlist. I can’t work security.
I have a goddamn mortgage now.
“There’s no way Josh Black just let you resign and walk away. What did he say?”
“No.”
Liam nods. “Good. You told him right?”
“No, I didn’t fucking tell him, Liam. Fuck. I haven’t told anyone until just now.” I toss back the rest of my beer. “Jesus, what am I going to say to Dad?”
“He’ll understand,” Liam says, but even I hear the tone of his voice change, indicating he doesn’t even believe that lie.
Dad has strong beliefs about what men should be like.
We sit in silence for a long while. My thoughts go back and forth, trying to find a solution to this mess. I know I need to talk to someone, but I don’t see how they can make me unsee what I did.
I guess it might dull the trauma, but that just makes me feel like an asshole because perhaps I should suffer. Those women are spread across the earth and ant food right now. That kid lost his mother.
I’m still walking and breathing.
So poor fucking me.
I take meds to sleep at night. I wake drowsy and spend my days worrying about my future and how I’ll navigate life now.
The symptoms never went away. I’ve been less triggered while in sales. Now, with a weapon on my hip and someone depending on me, clearly it triggered me.
I woke this morning feeling pretty miserable that I wouldn’t see Tiffany’s face today. Or tomorrow. Or the next day.
Holding her in my arms for those few hours as we slept was special. I don’t want to admit it, but making love to her was different. She knows it, too. That’s why she’s mad with me.
If she knew the truth, if she knew everything, she wouldn’t look at me the same.
I trust you.
You shouldn’t.
Josh needs to accept my resignation. I’d rather not explain myself, but he deserves an explanation. Monday I will go in and hand in my weapon and other bits and pieces, then tell him I appreciate the opportunity.
Then what?
I don’t know, but right now OnlyFans is looking pretty good.
Jesus. From a respected Air Force sniper to jerking off into a camera. My father is never going to look me in the eye.
I don’t blame him.
Tiffany needs to understand that I am not worthy of her. What we shared this past week was amazing. But I’m essentially unemployed, broken, almost broke, and a fucking mess of a man.
She feels vulnerable, and because I’m six foot four, at least a hundred pounds heavier than her, armed, and we’ve been intimate, she wants me close to feel safe.
It’s a survival response.
Except she’s wrong; I can’t keep her safe. I didn’t keep her safe.
Whoever got into the house did so on my watch.
Jesus, if they’d come into the bedroom and I’d woken, who knows how I would’ve reacted. I might have reached for my gun and shot the person.
Instead of having a beer with Liam, I could be sitting in the police station answering a thousand questions. Eventually, my PTSD would be exposed, and that would likely get me locked up.
What a fucking mess.
“How was Tiffany after the second break-in?”
“Worried.”
“She can’t do any of those public events. She scared enough to cancel them?”
“Ask Noah.” I shrug.
He’s quiet.
“You haven’t talked to her?” I hear the judgement in his voice.
Yes, I fucked her and haven’t called. He knows she’s not the first woman I’ve done that to, and he’s no saint himself.
I shake my head. “Nope.”
I slept all day yesterday and had my phone turned off. I purposely didn’t want to risk hearing from Tiffany. I knew I’d leap into my car and fly over there if she messaged. She hasn’t. Which means she’s being the brave, independent woman I know she is.
But she’s not...she’s scared and needs me.
The problem is, I’m not the man she thinks I am.