Getting Through (Only You Book 3)

by J. S. Finley

  A single tear traced down Mike’s cheek. “I’m so sorry.”

  “I know, and I forgive you.”

  “How can you?”

  He had no answer to the question. How did forgiveness work anyway? He’d been hurt, but he understood why Mike had reacted. On second thought, he didn’t understand it, but he knew there was more to the story than Mike was an asshole and meant to harm him.

  He turned on the water in the tub and stepped in. Mike followed after a short hesitation. Their touches were gentle, loving, but not sexual. He wanted his man to heal. Mike seemed so sad, and Lane totally understood.

  After they washed, he dried Mike then guided him to bed. Before stretching out, Lane sent a couple of messages, telling his friends on the police force Mike was safe. He sent a note to Sharron, informing her of Mike’s status and that he wanted to be admitted for treatment.

  They would make it through this. It would be a long road, but they could do it. Mike rolled to face him, his features visible in the small amount of light creeping around the side of the shade.

  “What if I choke you again tonight?”

  “Let’s do some meditation. We skipped it earlier.”

  Mike nodded and closed his eyes. Lane watched as Mike’s face relaxed while he meditated. At some point, they both drifted off and woke to delicious smells and someone banging around in the kitchen.

  “Good morning,” Lane said to Mike as his eyes fluttered open.

  Mike’s lips twisted, and he closed his eyes squeezing them tight before opening them again. “Good morning. I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay.”

  “D-do you have to work tonight?”

  “No, I’m off.”

  “I’m really sorry.”

  Mike was getting too twisted up in being sorry. Lane didn’t want him to go too deep into the I’m sorry hole. He had to think of something to pull Mike out of his pit.

  “I know you’re sorry. You’re going to have to forgive yourself. I love you, and I know you just want to express your feelings, but you don’t have to say you’re sorry all the time.”

  Mike shook his head. “I don’t know what else to do. I hurt you again.”

  Lane wove his fingers with Mike’s, hoping something could be done to make Mike feel better.

  “We’ll see Sharron, and she’ll be able to help.”

  “I hope so.”

  “It’ll work. For now, we’ll make sure you meditate. We’ll help you to stay calm. It will be okay. I swear, we’ll make sure you’re calm before sleep. Also, no TV. You were worked up over what happened.”

  Mike blew out a breath. “This is no way to live.”

  “I know, babe, I know.” He kissed Mike’s hand then sat up. “Let’s get up and go find out what they cooked.”

  “Sure.”

  Something had to change. He couldn’t live, fearing for his life, and Mike couldn’t live thinking he would kill him in the middle of the night. Lane wanted to spend more time with Mike, and he wanted to do it during the day. Maybe he needed a new job. At Mount Sinai he had put in for day shift, but the list was long, and it would probably take him five years to transfer to days.

  Right now, the best thing he could do was just keep going through the motions. They cleaned up a little and dressed before heading out to the den. Clay had cooked a full breakfast, and Jake and Brent were there, setting the table. His phone rang, and he answered.

  “Hello.” His voice warbled as he spoke. They’d had a good talk, and he didn’t want the real world intruding. The only thing that would make this morning better was if Thomas were there.

  “Lane, it’s Sharron. I have a spot. Mike can come today and be admitted. It will give him a chance to work on some techniques. Two weeks and then we can figure out if he needs more.”

  “Sure, I’ll tell him. How long do we have?”

  “Four hours. He needs to be here in four hours.”

  “I’ll have him ready.” Lane turned to stare at Mike, and his heart sped up. It almost always sped up when he looked at Mike, but now it was racing like a freaking train. He swallowed and moved closer to his man. “That was Sharron. She has a spot for you. Two weeks.”

  Mike nodded and closed his eyes, his face twisting in pain. He wrapped his arms around Mike’s shoulders and held on tight through the tears. Behind them, the guys were busying themselves and ignoring them. He appreciated their quiet concern, allowing them to work through this together.

  Mike got hold of his emotions and did one last big sniff before stepping away from him. Lane didn’t want to let him go, but he had to allow Mike to be Mike.

  “I don’t want to go, but I really don’t want to hurt Lane any more. I’m sorry. I feel like I’ve failed you all. I never meant to put him in danger. He’s the best guy I’ve ever met, and I hurt him.”

  Clay moved to stand in front of Mike. “I talked to Thomas this morning, and he doesn’t hold a grudge at all. He only wants you to get better. He loves you and says once he gets a few days off, he’ll come see you.”

  Mike nodded, his throat working as if he was trying to gain control of his emotions. They hugged and then Jake and Brent hugged Mike.

  After the hugs were passed around, they sat down to the delicious breakfast Clay had cooked. They talked, but the joking was kept to a minimum. Mike made a few calls and sent emails to the people who worked for him. His second in command would have to take control of the event he was supposed to work.

  After the calls, Lane helped Mike pack a bag, and they took an Uber to the facility where Sharron had space for him. The check-in process was simple and then Mike was heading deeper into the building before Lane was ready. He felt like a piece of his heart had been ripped out. Two weeks without Mike seemed like a lifetime, but if it helped Mike, he would do two lifetimes without the man.

  17

  Mike hated walking away from Lane, but he hated that he’d hurt Lane more. He followed the nurse—or maybe it was just a tech—back to an exam room where they took his vitals.

  “So, Dr. Ross is coming in to see you. She said you were special. Served in the military. I was Navy. I didn’t see any action, but I knew some guys who did. The program Sharron has will help.”

  He nodded then shook his head. “Do you get many military guys?”

  “Yeah, quite a few. Though she’s never been in the military, Dr. Ross has a knack for this. It’s like she can see into the mind and know which switch to flip.”

  Mike nodded, unsure how she would know what to do for him. He felt totally fucked up. Heck, he didn’t really know what to do. The TV news had made him freak out, and he’d gone off, hurting Lane, which was the last thing he wanted to do. How could he have hurt Lane? It didn’t make sense. He hated himself a little. It wasn’t good to be mired in self destruction, but he couldn’t help it.

  Sharron stepped into the room and a little bit of relief filled him. If anyone could help him, she could.

  “Hello, Mike. I’m glad you came in. We’re going to have an intense two weeks. I hope you’re ready to do some hard work. This is going to be challenging.”

  He nodded, though he felt like running out. Fear unsettled him, leaving him unsure if Sharron could do anything to help. The least he could do was put forth an effort. “I’m ready to work hard.”

  “Good. I have neurotherapy arranged for you along with meditation and exercise. We’ll have a couple of group sessions and some one-on-one time. I’m hopeful you can gain control and the incidents will stop.

  He nodded. His emotions made his throat close, and he squeaked out, “Thank you.”

  “How do you feel about this?”

  Sharron’s question brought another swell of emotions. He missed Lane, but that wasn’t the answer she was looking for. He smoothed his hands over his denim-clad thighs, finding no way to avoid searching deep. He wasn’t here to give superficial answers. He had to find answers, but right now, he didn’t have any. “I don’t know. Hopeful, maybe.”

  “I thin
k hopeful is a good place to start. How about we get you settled first, then a short session of group therapy. I think this is going to be a good place for you. And Mike, you don’t have to know how you feel about everything.”

  His energy was low, and he was glad they hadn’t suggested any medication. He didn’t want to spend the next two weeks drugged up. After settling in a private room, he attended a group session but didn’t speak other than to give his name.

  Meditation wasn’t at all what he thought it would be. After the group session, he figured he would be in a group setting for meditation. Instead, he had a one-on-one session with a young man, John, who was getting his doctorate in psychology. The meditation was similar to what Sharron taught, but more emphasis was put on spot meditation. If he felt the need to take a break in a crowded space like a restaurant or even Grand Central, he could use a few techniques to take him there.

  At the end of the day, he felt even more hopeful. The only regret was not being allowed to talk to Lane. He went to bed wishing he had his man to hold but knowing he was a danger to him. If he ever hurt Lane again, he knew their relationship would be over. After the last time, he’d freaked out. There couldn’t be a next time.

  A night of fitful sleep left him exhausted. He went to his next set of sessions, thinking he had no hope. He snapped at John during meditation and instantly regretted it.

  “I’m so sorry,” he said the minute the words were out of his mouth.

  “Mike, this is exactly the type of situation where you can employ some of the techniques from this session.”

  “I’m failing at this.”

  “No, you’re learning. Think of it this way. Your cup is full. You’ve been pouring everything in day after day, and eventually, it’s going to overflow. But meditation allows you to tilt the cup gently instead of upending and releasing everything all over the place. Let’s give it a try. Breathe in through your nose and then blow the air out through your mouth, letting the stress go.”

  He tried it and noticed he was instantly calmer. He had no clue how to know when he should do these exercises. Maybe it was something he could learn. But he felt like the pressure built in a flash, and he found himself breathing hard, ready to explode before he could really do anything about it.

  “Mike, this is when you can catch yourself and do some exercises.”

  He shook his head and blew out a breath. “I can’t do this.”

  “Yes, you can. Breathe in and then blow it out. This is your first day learning new techniques.”

  Anger rose. The pain from what he’d seen in the Marines surfaced, and he couldn’t push it away. “I should be able to handle this better.”

  “We handle things the way we handle them.”

  John’s statement wove through him, touching his sensitive spots. He stared at the man, thinking he was being a jerk, but he saw no attitude. John wasn’t condemning him; instead, he was accepting him as he was. The statement made sense, and he wasn’t handling things properly outside of this facility. Heck, he wasn’t handling things here either. Acting erratic and allowing anger to rule wouldn’t get him closer to being well enough for Lane.

  “Okay, what do I do?” Mike asked.

  “First, let’s get you breathing and relaxed. We should have about five minutes before your session ends to talk about when to employ the techniques. Just remember, this is a process. That’s why you’re here for two weeks. We want you to succeed. So give yourself permission to relax and accept the process without feeling you have to master it.

  He nodded then closed his eyes and focused on his breathing. John’s voice was calming. When John adjusted the lights in the room, he felt like he’d just woken up. He wiped his face and sat up straight.

  “Did I fall asleep?”

  “Not really, you were just very relaxed.”

  He shook his head and stared at the windows. The blinds were positioned so the harsh light outside wasn’t blinding. “Are we done?”

  “We have three minutes before my next client comes in.”

  “Oh.”

  “Okay, maybe you were a little asleep. You’ll learn how to stay awake, but stay relaxed. I’m thinking you’re maybe a little exhausted. You’ll get plenty of sleep here.”

  “So I just breathe deep and I’m fine?”

  “Well, once you’re back with your partner, you’ll have stresses that can be difficult to deal with. If you can, find a quiet corner or go into a different room and start the breathing techniques. It will get easier the more you practice.”

  Maybe this would work. He’d calmed down in here and actually drifted off without anything bad happening. “Thank you.”

  “I like working with people. It’s my pleasure to give you the tools you need.”

  He stood and shook John’s hand. He liked the guy. Everyone here seemed genuine in their desire to help others.

  After meditation, he had exercise. They were doing yoga, which he hadn’t ever really done before. It was peaceful and he enjoyed pushing his body to hold the stances.

  When the class ended, he was a little winded. Everyone seemed relaxed, maybe even happy. He realized yoga made him happy too. Why hadn’t he ever done yoga before?

  The rest of the day flew by, and he had more tools to utilize. With the reflection and quiet time came realization. Somehow he’d always been holding onto this anger and pain, but when he’d gotten together with Lane, he felt safe enough to release it. Keeping the emotions bottled up inside hadn’t done him any favors.

  In therapy with Sharron two days later, he told her what he thought about feeling safe and how the increased security made it worse with Lane.

  “It’s good to access your deeper levels, and now you have some tools to keep you and those around you safe. Let’s go even deeper. Do you think you developed this pattern from when you were younger?”

  Sharron’s question threw him. “What do you mean?”

  “Were you this way when you were younger?”

  He shrugged and closed his eyes, thinking about life before the military. It was difficult. Before he lost friends to war, he’d had a simple life. It was hard to think he was the same man he’d been eight, heck, even six years ago.

  “Maybe.”

  “Just think about it. There are often patterns we learn in our childhood that carry on to our adult lives.”

  During meditation, he was distracted by Sharron’s question. During yoga, he was deep in thought and missed a couple of transitions. He had to get up during lunch and take a few minutes to breathe deeply.

  He went to sleep still thinking about Sharron’s question. It took him until noon the next day to realize his family hadn’t allowed expression of emotions. They’d wanted him to keep everything bottled up. He wasn’t sure what the knowledge would do for him, but now he had it.

  His session with Sharron was late in the day. He liked routine, but the differences in his daily schedule were nice. If it was the same thing every day at the same time, he would get bored.

  At the end of his session with Sharron, she reached out and took his hand. “Would you like to see Lane tomorrow?”

  “Is that a possibility?”

  “Yes. You’re progressing nicely. I think it would be good for you to spend some time with him. If it goes well, we’ll start with some emails, maybe a call or two.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes. The goal is to help you out in society. Here in this hospital, it’s easy to keep your emotions under control. At some point, we need you to have some interaction with your loved ones.”

  His heart sped up, and his palms grew damp. “So I really get to see him tomorrow? When?”

  “He’ll be here around two in the afternoon.”

  “I can’t wait.”

  Sharron chuckled. “I’m glad you’re excited. I believe you have a little meditation tonight before bed. This is a group meditation class.”

  “Oh, that’s different.”

  “It is. It’s progress though.” Sharron p
ut her pen down and held her hands in her lap. “I’m happy with how far you’ve come. Are you?”

  “Happy with it?” He shrugged and then nodded. “Yes, I think so.”

  “Good. That’s what we want.”

  Their session ended, and he headed to snack time. He was getting used to thinking about his emotions and how he felt. It was hard at first to dive in deep, but now he liked gaining a better understanding about how he felt.

  That evening, he had a hard time falling asleep and finally used one of his meditation techniques to get into deep sleep. He woke refreshed and ready to see Lane. The hours crept by, making him wonder if the clock was moving at all. He was in a short session with John when he checked the clock for the fourth or fifth time.

  “What’s going on that’s so important today?” John asked.

  He narrowed his gaze and stared at John, wondering if the man was asking because he was curious or annoyed. “Oh, um, Lane is coming to see me at two.”

  “Oh, I totally understand now. Are you excited?”

  “I can’t wait to see him. What if he doesn’t want me though?”

  John gave him a warm smile. “I’m sure Lane will be very happy to see you. You’re a good man. We have five minutes left; how about we do some breathing exercises, then you can head to lunch.”

  He nodded and tried to focus, but knowing he would see Lane soon made it difficult to think. A little before two, he headed to the common room and sat but couldn’t stay on the couches, so he moved to the window and stared out at the lawn where some people were walking, a group was doing yoga, and a few people were meditating.

  He heard the sound of a foot shuffling behind him and turned. Lane was there only feet away. The sight did some amazing things to his body.

  It felt like a huge balloon had expanded in his chest. His throat closed up, and tears sprang to his eyes. It was more emotional than anything he’d ever experienced before.

  Lane closed the distance and wrapped his arms tight. They were both crying. He clung to Lane, his fingers twisting in Lane’s shirt. He missed his man, and he wasn’t sure he would be able to let him go ever again.