by Jenny Wood
“Wade, what’s happening?” I was starting to get scared because I heard people around us talking but I couldn’t see anyone.
“Sir’s, is everything okay? Do you need an ambulance?” Someone called from above. I slid my hands under Wade’s shirt and stroked his overheated skin until he started to relax. Thankfully, everyone backed off and was waiting to see what happened.
“Wade, I need you to talk to me here, I don’t know what’s happening,” I whispered into his shoulder that was still slightly covering my head.
“Fuck.” He hissed but didn’t move.
“Hey, we’re okay. Just tell me what’s happening. What’s going on right now?” I asked, quietly.
“Sounded like an explosion.” He croaked.
“Yeah, but it wasn’t. We’re okay.” I pressed my hands firmly against his skin as I explained and he nodded, moving his face into my neck. This was weird, but I knew that he’d been overseas and I knew people came back with PTSD and things that could make them think they were right back in a war zone. It happened too often, especially when soldiers didn’t get the help they needed when they got back.
“I fucked up.” He whispered. My face was uncovered now, and I could see a woman who I assumed was a manager, judging by her white shirt and name tag. I mouthed that we were okay and she nodded and took a step or two back.
“You didn’t fuck up; it was an honest mistake,” I tell him, hands still roaming the clammy skin on his back and sides. We’d turned slightly as to where we were tucked up against a bed, and thankfully we were somewhat hidden. It took several minutes for Wade to come back to himself and realize we were on the floor. He stood up swiftly and helped me up without looking at me. He apologized to the store manager who was still standing close by but keeping her distance. We beelined to the truck without stopping anywhere else. The ride home was quiet, and I didn’t know how to bring anything up or what I should even say. So, I said nothing and hoped like fuck; this wasn’t the end of us already.
Wade
Fucking flashback happened at the worst possible time. I knew when Foster suggested we go to the outlet mall in LaGrange, that it was going to be a little crowded. I honestly thought because I’d been doing so good, that I could handle it. I fucking couldn’t, and I acted a fucking fool in front of not only a dozen people but also Foster. Fuck me.
The ride back to his place was quiet, and I wished that I had the balls to ask him what he was thinking. I can honestly say that I was scared to know. Here it is the first time I’m feeling comfortable enough to start something publicly with someone, and I go and scare him off by being a fucking basket case. We were almost to his apartment when I took a deep breath and decided I’d need to do some explaining and then if he wanted me to go, I would. Then I’d make sure that Cam and Morgan could keep an eye on him until shit stopped being weird between us and I could do it myself. If there was one thing I was sure of now though, it was that Foster Wells meant something to me and the fact that I threw my body over his to protect him, solidified it for me.
Taking another deep breath and holding it for several seconds and then letting it out slowly, I feel Foster’s hand tentatively touch my arm, and I relax. I release the death grip I had on the steering wheel and glance over at him while I take his hand in mine. He scoots closer to me in the truck and wraps his arms around my arm in a vice like a grip and leans his head on my shoulder.
“I’m really sorry about that,” I tell him, my voice gruffer than usually.
“Stop apologizing for stuff that’s not your fault.” He says back and kisses my shoulder. It feels like the boulder sized ball of worry is lifted from the center of my chest. The rest of the ride is made in silence, but with Foster wrapped around me. I didn’t know how much I needed that.
“What the fuck?” I growled quietly when we pulled up to Foster’s apartment because there sitting on the steps of his place was the fucking ex. If there was a worst time for this shit, I couldn’t think of one. Foster and I needed to talk, not deal with this jackass.
“What the fuck?” He sounded slightly more aggravated than I did if that could be believed. He scooted towards his door before we’d even got stopped and hopped out.
“Foster!” I slammed the truck into park and followed him out. He was walking swiftly and with pissed of purpose across his walkway. The ex stood up and slowly came down the steps, looking terrible, if I was honest. His hair was disheveled, and his clothes were wrinkled and unkempt. He looked like he hadn’t slept in a month.
“Are you kidding me?” Foster says heatedly, stopping in front of the ex, who had his hands shoved in his pockets and his shoulders hunched, ready for an attack.
“Can we talk a minute?” The ex-asks. I stand back and let this play out; I didn’t think the ex-was a threat at the moment.
“No, we can’t talk a minute. How you didn’t get that hint after every message you left asking me to, I don’t know!” Foster almost yelled in frustration.
“I didn’t leave you any messages.” The ex-looks at Foster, and he honestly looks confused. He’s either a really good fucking actor or he really didn’t leave the messages. “Can we just, for a second, talk please?” He asks again.
“Baby, let’s go upstairs, I have some questions too,” I call out to Foster and watch his body jerk before he turns to me. His body is alert but his eyes are soft, and I realize this again, was the worst possible time for a fucking pet name that didn’t mean to slip out. I was exhausted and emotionally drained at the moment, and I just wanted to get this over with so we could talk about relevant shit, like what was happening between him and me and if he could handle all that was fucked up in my head since being back.
“Come on.” He snaps at the ex, and we all trek the stairs, and he lets us in. The ex, moves to a small chair in the corner of the room beside Foster’s dresser and Foster stays close to me, arms crossed and looking pissed.
“Any way we can do this without an audience?” The ex, asks.
“Not a chance,” I answer instead of giving Foster a chance. Just because I didn’t think the guy was a threat, didn’t mean I was going to leave them alone together. He seemed to be expecting that answer because he only sighed and then folded in on himself; putting his elbows on his knees and pulling at his hair.
“First, I’m glad you’re okay after your accident.” He tells Foster, looking very sincere. At least he wasn’t a complete dick. Foster said nothing. “Things have been…fucked up, the last week for me.”
“Oh? Do tell me about that, won’t you?” Foster folds his arms across his chest, and I can’t help but scoff at his sarcasm. Someone is calling up his backbone.
“Fossy, it’s complicated.” The ex-says. Fossy? Weird.
“My name is Foster. Not babe, not Foss, and sure as hell not, Fossy. How are things complicated?” He asks. I put my hands on his hips and pull him back into my front, hoping to quiet him down a little so the guy can at least explain.
“I’m sorry…what’s this here? Who’s this guy?” The ex asks, seeming just to notice Foster and my being so close.
“Oh, not introducing you, how rude of me.” He says pointedly, turning to wave at me.
“This is Wade, Wade, Jeffery.” He introduces.
“Are you… Is this…are you together?” Jeffery asks incredulously.
“Yep,” I answer simply, and Foster does the body jerk thing again and looks at me curiously.
“Well, come on,” I say unhelpfully. He rolls his eyes at me and turns back to the ex.
“Soooo, you we’re going to explain?” He draws. The ex-gives in.
“I wasn’t completely honest with you.” He starts. I can feel Foster gearing up to say something smart, so I pull him back into me again and hold him close. I feel him take a breath and the ex continues. “I wasn’t completely honest, but I wasn’t with anyone else while we were together either. I didn’t lie to you about that. It’s just that, see, my family…we’re, I don’t know, kind of a big deal. My dad�
��s a hot shot lawyer in Atlanta, and my granddad was in New York, and his dad was in LA. It’s just, who our family is. As cliché as it is, it’s just what’s expected of me. I’m supposed to follow in their footsteps and do what they did and continue this longstanding legacy of Bingham men. My son will be expected to do the same.” He stops and looks up at Foster and his defense; he truly looks miserable by that confession.
“You have a son?” Foster asks quietly.
“No, not yet. If my parents get their way though, I will soon.” The ex shakes his head and looks to the ground. “The woman from the other night is my fiancé, Jillian.” I feel Foster gasp, and his body locks tight, but before he can say anything, Jeffery continues. “Her father is a neurosurgeon that my Dad knows. We were introduced when we were teenagers; they’ve been pushing us to marry for the last five years and even though we’re engaged, she has to know by now that I can’t. I mean, we’ve never had sex, not ever!” He exclaims. That’s awkward. “Anyway, I’m sorry I was a dick at the benefit. I got invited by a client, and it felt like a good time to do my due diligence and take her out for a night to get her off my ass and make everyone happy for a minute. I didn’t plan on running into you. I’m sorry.” He says again. I feel the fight leave Foster and he takes a seat on his bed and then pats it for me to sit. I do.
“I mean, it sucked, that’s for sure. I felt like an idiot.” Foster explains and then sighs. “But I get it. That sucks for you; I’m sorry your parents are dicks.” He says without heat.
“Yeah, thanks.” Jeffery snorts. “I didn’t treat you right…”
“No, you didn’t,” Foster interrupts but quickly carries on. “But, I don’t blame you, it sounds like a shitty situation. I mean, I wish things didn’t happen the way they did, but I’m partially to blame too.”
“No, you were so great. Despite my actions, I truly care about you. I just don’t know how to do….do everything and be everything I’m supposed to be.” Jeffery thrusts his hands in his hair in frustration again.
“Then don’t,” Foster says simply. “Fuck what everyone else wants you to be, what do you want to be?”
“Happy.” I kind of hate myself for feeling sympathy for the man, he looks like he truly means that with everything in him and I can relate.
“Then do what makes you happy. If they can’t understand, then you don’t need them in your life. They’ll either come around or they won’t, but you can’t live unhappily. You’ll be miserable, and if you do at some point have children, they’ll be the ones to suffer; your wife will suffer for it, and you shouldn’t hurt someone else for your own personal gain, ya know?” Foster asks him, and I know Jeffery understands what he’s saying. He looks so ashamed.
“I’m sorry if I hurt you.” He says sincerely.
“I’m sorry I let you.” Foster shrugs. “If I’m being honest here too, you were kind of just like, the first guy to show me any positive attention. It’s kind of complicated too, but I’m not so sure if it was you that I liked so much or just how not being alone.” He tells Jeffery. “I mean, that sounds shitty. You were great in the beginning, and you’re a great guy when you want to be, but I mean, I think, before you...I didn’t realize that I deserved one thing and I settled for less than, because there was a little bit of good to outweigh the bad and I deserve more than that, ya know? I know that now.” He leans into me slightly, and this is something we should probably talk about later.
“I get it. I used that to my advantage sometimes. I’m sorry about that too.” Jeffery admits, shamefully. I hated to admit it, even to myself but I found myself feeling a little sorry for him.
“So, you really haven’t been leaving me messages to call you? Like under my door and stuff?” Foster asks, skeptically.
“No, I swear.” Jeffery shakes his head and puts his hands up defensively. “The night after your accident, Jillian and I got into it again about setting a date for the wedding. I’d heard about you getting hurt and I knew you were going to end it after the way I behaved at the art auction and it was just so much all on me all at once. I blurted that I was in a relationship with a man. She flipped her shit, rightfully so, and there was screaming and crying, and for once, I felt like I breathe.” Jeffery looked awed. “I left that night and went up to a buddy’s cabin in Carlisle, and I turned my phone off because I know I’m going to have messages from my parents and I just don’t want to deal with that right now. I’m taking some much-needed vacation time, but I’m just left in a clusterfuck that I helped create and now I don’t know how to get out of it.” He seemed to be going over it in his head more so than explaining. “Anyway,” He shook it off. “I knew I needed to apologize to you and I really hope that even if you hate me right now, you can at least forgive me for everything. I know you deserved better than that and if this guy here is that for you, I honestly do, just want you to be happy.”
“Well I appreciate that, and I do forgive you,” Foster says sincerely, and I’m not surprised. He’s the kind of guy who feels a lot and carries a lot of compassion for other people. I saw that when Kingsley and Morgan announced their news. What kind of person would cry for virtual stranger’s good news? A person as big hearted as Foster, that’s who.
“Thank you,” Jeffery says, relieved. He wipes his hands on his jeans and makes to stand up after taking a deep cleansing breath. “And thank you for giving me a chance to explain. I’ll get out of your hair; I’ve got a lot more shit to clean up.” He says. We follow him to the door, and I’m not surprised when Foster steps forward and hugs the ex. I didn’t mention the tears in Jeffery’s eyes when he back up and nodded his goodbye and left.
“That was a nice thing for you to do, to give him that,” I tell him honestly. I don’t think had I been in the same situation that I’d have been that gracious or forgiving.
“I feel bad for him, the way he’s living is no way to live.” He shrugs. Him and that damn shrug. Grabbing his adorable face, I pull him to me and seal my lips over his in a heated kiss. Unlike the man before me, I understand what I could have if I don’t mess things up or if my bullshit isn’t too much for him to handle. I haven’t prayed in a long time, not since I came back from my last mission because I figured that me getting out alive was more than I could ever ask for. Now I want to pray for a chance to see what can happen with us because I have a feeling he just might be everything I need.
Foster
Coming home to find Jeffery on my doorstep was something I should’ve expected. Everything seems to crumple on me all at once. I had this little ball in the pit of my stomach, and I was actually afraid of what was going to happen between Wade and me because I was scared that it was going to be too much for him and he was going to walk away. I wasn’t sure what kind of internal demons he was battling, but I know that sometimes they’re too painful to share and I didn’t know how to go about asking or if I even should ask about his. Still, I wrapped myself around him and hoped for the best.
Jeffery being here was the last thing I needed right now, but after hearing everything he was going through, I actually felt very sorry for him. I couldn’t imagine having a family that expected so much from you that it was impossible to be yourself. I had the complete opposite problem growing up, and I guess no matter how “together” someone seems, you never really know what’s going on in their lives or their hearts. I’m just sorry he didn’t feel that he could share that with me. Whether we had a relationship or not, I could’ve been his friend and just listened if he needed to talk.
I felt better after he left and felt that we’d both gotten closure, at least in this aspect in our lives. I didn’t hold any ill-will towards him, and I was glad he was working things out for himself. Now, with Wade’s hands encompassing my face and his lips on mine, I wanted to not think about the scene in the furniture store and enjoy the feelings I was currently having. Maybe it wouldn’t work out, and maybe I’d get hurt again, at the moment, I didn’t care. I just wanted more of this.
“We should talk.” Wa
de stopped us and held his forehead to mine, still cupping my face, gently.
“Okay.” I relented, reluctantly. We both took a seat on my bed, and I kicked off my shoes and got comfy. I wish I had a more decadent place for us to have this conversation but I guessed this was as good of a place than any.
“So, in case you haven’t noticed. I have PTSD and Combat Stress Reactions. It’s getting better, but I still get overwhelmed when I hear loud noises, or I get startled. Crowds kind of freak me out because I can’t keep my eye on everyone at all times.” He explains, and of course, I knew that it happened more times than people thought. I couldn’t imagine going over there to the horror of a war zone and not coming back unscathed.
“Are you talking to anyone about it?” I ask, gently. I don’t want to be intrusive, but I’m curious because now I’m worried.
“No. Not anymore.” He answers and looks away. I reach forward and grab his hand in mine, hopefully letting him know that it’s okay. That I understand and that I want to listen.
“That can’t be easy, dealing with it on your own.”
“I’m okay.” He says, brushing it off at first. I didn’t like that. Luckily, he seems to really think about it. “Okay, I’m not okay, but I’m getting better.”
“Maybe. I can’t say for sure. You’d know more than I would, it’s your body, your mind. But, there are people who specialize in such things, that wouldn’t judge you at all and would actually like to help you. I’m sure of it.” I tell him, and I am. I know there are people who specialize in PTSD and work only with service members.
“Maybe.” He says, noncommittally.
“And it’s one hundred percent up to you. But, I think something awesome could happen here, and I want to try for that. With you. And I just want you to know that whatever you decide, I’ll stand behind you; but I’ll also worry. I know we don’t have a lot of crime around here and it’s a relatively safe town, but honey, what if something like today happens while you’re at work or the safety of you or someone else is on the line, and you have a flashback or a reaction. I’m not saying it will, but it could, ya know? I just don’t want you to get hurt if it’s something that can be prevented, you know?” I ask hopefully, hoping I’m not offending him with my lack of knowledge about it, but my understanding and wanting to help. I know I can be intrusive and pushy when I don’t realize it, and I don’t want to do that, here. He nods, and I pull him into a hug, then stretch us out on my bed. I feel like we could both go for a nap right about now, it’s been a very eventful afternoon.