We Shouldn’t: The Raven Brothers - Book 2

by Kaylee, Katy

  He took the paper and tore it up. “I’m not going to see anyone else. It’s you or no one, Doc.”

  15

  Hunter

  Monday

  There was one part of me telling me to cut my losses and leave. She didn’t want to see me professionally or personally. Why would I stick around and beg a woman, who clearly regretted what had happened between us, to stay? I wasn’t a sadist. Or maybe I was, because I did stick around, trying to convince her to stay.

  “You once asked what I wanted. I want the nightmares to stop. Since meeting you, they haven’t stopped, but they come later in the night and are shorter.” And since Friday, her appearance in them didn’t feel so much like she was on Sara and Chase’s side, but that she was trying to save me. “Now that I’m getting some reprieve and a better night’s sleep, you want to leave. How is that professional?”

  She sighed and sat in the chair. “Tell me more about the dreams.”

  I studied her. Did that mean she was giving in? I walked back to the couch and sat. “For a long time, they were a flashback to an explosion in Iraq.” I took a deep breath as the fear and panic filled my blood and made my skin itch.

  “Just that one?” she asked.

  I shifted, not ready to tell her about Sara. “Mostly. Yes.”

  “Why that one, do you think?”

  “I don’t know. It was deadly. Only a handful of us survived. It led to my forced retirement from the military.”

  She nodded. “Close your eyes, Hunter.”

  It took me a moment because I didn’t want to go back there and I was sure that’s what she was going to have me do. Finally, I shut them.

  “What feelings are you having at this memory? Physically and emotionally?”

  I let out a shuddering breath. “Panic. Terror. Guilt. Fear.”

  “Tell me about the guilt.”

  I shook my head.

  “Was it your fault?”

  “I had a bad feeling about the place.” My mouth was dry as the memory grew more vivid in my head.

  “Why the guilt, Hunter?”

  “I didn’t convince them to retreat.” Fucking morons.

  “So you tried to talk them out of going, but they didn’t listen.”

  I dug the heels of my hands into my eye sockets, wanting the image of the carnage gone. “Yes.”

  “Who ignored your input that something was off?”

  “Wallace. Calhoon and Henley backed him up too.” I remembered wanting to punch Wallace for being so gung-ho about killing the enemy and riling up young Calhoon and Henley into a fighting frenzy. This wasn’t a video game, which they learned when they were all blown to bits.

  “Why is it your fault if Wallace was the one who ignored you?”

  “I should have tried harder.” I could have maybe caused a mutiny of some sort as many of the other men in the platoon agreed with me, or at the very least, respected my opinion.

  “Were you in charge? Was it your decision?”

  I shook my head. “But I had more experience. I should have knocked Wallace out like I wanted to.”

  “And be arrested?”

  “They’d all be alive now if I did.” I opened my eyes, wanting to leave Iraq.

  She stared at me, giving me a moment to reorient to the present.

  “I know what you’re going to say, Doc.”

  “I know you do, so why don’t you say it,” she said, those hazel eyes looking sad yet determined.

  “It was Wallace’s decision. I shouldn’t feel guilty.”

  She nodded. “Yet you do. Do you really think if you punched him, they’d all have abandoned the mission? Do you think they’d be alive now?”

  “We won’t ever know.”

  “Do you think the families blame you?”

  “They should.”

  She shook her head. “You’re a strong man, and I’m sure a fierce warrior, but you’re not God.”

  My jaw tightened.

  “In fact, it’s a little self-centered of you to think you have so much control over the doings of other people. You’re not responsible for Wallace.” She took a beat and then said, “You’re not responsible for Sara either.”

  “What the fuck!” I bolted up from the couch as emotion rocketed through me.

  “Do any of your dreams involve her?”

  How the fuck did she know?

  “You said ‘at first’ when describing your dreams, which suggests there are some other dreams. I know what happened with Sara. And I know you often watch over her.”

  I ground my teeth, not wanting Grace to know what a fuck-up I was.

  “Are you in love with her?” she asked.

  I whirled around shocked by her statement. “What? With my brother’s wife?”

  She nodded. I tried to figure out if she was being for real or just jealous. Maybe she was right in that we couldn’t have both a professional and personal relationship if she was going to use the professional bit against me.

  “No.”

  “Then why follow her? Why all the one-night stands instead of a committed relationship?”

  I stared at her, working as hard as I could against the urge to walk out. “Because I failed her too. Because a hard orgasm and warm body help keep the dreams away.” There. I said it. Was she happy now?

  “A warm body could be had in a relationship. Why not have one of those?”

  Was she serious? “You know me, Doc. Who the fuck wants to put up with me? You don’t.”

  There was a flash of green in her hazel eyes that made me wonder if she was thinking she was up to the task.

  “Are the nightmares all that you want to get rid of? What about anger and bitterness? What about being happy?”

  All of a sudden, I was exhausted. I got a bottle of water from the minifridge and sat back on the couch. “This isn’t ever going to go away, is it? If I could just have a reprieve while I slept, I’d be happy.”

  “You’ll likely always have some issues related to PTSD, but you can learn to avoid or at least anticipate triggers, develop better coping mechanisms, and achieve greater peace and happiness than you have now.”

  “Sign me up.” I took a sip of water.

  “Tell me about Sara.”

  I wanted to tell her to fuck off, but I figured that wouldn’t help. “As I said, I failed her.”

  “So guilt again?”

  I nodded. “But justified. I knew that fuckhead, Glen, wasn’t right. He’d tried to snatch her once before. But I didn’t have anyone watching her as much as I should have. Fuck, even when Chase called to tell me she’d gone missing, I figured she’d either realized how fucked up our family was or simply took the money and ran.”

  I looked at Grace for signs that she was repulsed by me.

  “Did you hand her over to Glen?”

  “I might as well have,” I snapped.

  “Do you think Chase and Sara blame you?”

  I looked away. In some ways, that was worse. Chase should kick the shit out of me, yet he never did. He never yelled or said a word.

  “I know for a fact they don’t. And they shouldn’t. Just like Wallace, what happened isn’t your fault.”

  I glared at her. “Security is my job.”

  “Not for family.”

  “She was an intern,” I snapped.

  “When she was kidnapped?”

  “Not then, but before, when Glen first tried to take her. I should have done more then.”

  Grace tilted her head. “So, you did something, just not enough?”

  “I did background checks on Glen and her predator professor.”

  “Did you give Chase the information?”

  “Of course.” I wasn’t a complete idiot.

  “So why isn’t it Chase’s fault? It was his wife.” She paused. “His baby.”

  I closed my eyes, knowing in my head what she was saying but unable to let go of the guilt. “It was my job.”

  “Hunter.” Her voice was soft and gentle. I opened my eyes to
look at her. “The first thing you’ll need to do to manage the dreams is to learn to forgive yourself for crimes you never committed.”

  “I don’t know how.”

  “I can find someone who can help.”

  I shook my head. “No. I don’t want to do all this with someone else.”

  She surprised me by standing and coming to sit next to me. “It can’t be me.”

  “It’s you or no one, Doc. I’ve already told you.” I began to realize that maybe the rope in my dream was Grace. She was my lifeline. And yet, in the dream she told me to let go. Was that what I was supposed to do now? Let go of her? Fuck that.

  She sighed. “I can’t be your therapist, Hunter, but I can be your friend. Just a friend.”

  I didn’t like that.

  “If you’ll follow through on professional help, we can see each other, but only platonically.”

  I hated that I’d told her so much. She’d been attracted to me at the start of this session, and now she only wanted to be friends. Now she knew I was a failure. That I’d been responsible for my sister-in-law losing her child. She said all the right things a therapist should say about it, but I knew it had to repulse her.

  “Just friends,” I said, the words feeling like sandpaper in my mouth.

  “Yes.”

  “Fine.” I wasn’t sure why I was agreeing, except that I was such a pussy that I was willing to take whatever crumbs she was willing to give me. I still had my hand if I needed to take care of my dick’s urges. One thing was for damn sure, being around her did have a calming effect. Deep down, I did want peace and happiness, and she was the only person I thought could help me get both.

  “Good.”

  “What does that even mean?” I asked. I had friends, sort of, but they were men. Did Grace play basketball? Go drinking on the weekends?

  “What do you mean?” she asked.

  “What do we do as friends? I get the no fucking part.”

  “We do platonic things. What do you like to do?”

  I shrugged, holding back my answer of “fuck.”

  “Movies? Walks?” she asked.

  “I work out.”

  She smiled. “Me too. I run. What about you?”

  “I run sometimes,” I said, beginning to think it might be nice to have a friend, although I couldn’t imagine hanging out with Grace and not wanting to fuck her.

  “I tell you what. Let me plan our first outing.”

  “Sure.”

  “But remember, you have to follow through on the counseling. I’ll set that up too.”

  My stomach felt sick, but I nodded.

  “Actually,” she said looking at her watch. “Let’s start now.”

  “Now?” I checked my watch. It had felt like we’d been there forever, but in fact, it was only thirty-five minutes.

  “If we hurry, we can make it.” She stood and grabbed her bag.

  I was never big on spontaneity, even less so after being in Iraq, but I’d agreed to her terms and I had the time.

  I rose. “Where to?”

  “We’ll need a car,” she said as she headed out the door.

  “I’ll have my driver meet us.”

  As we reached the elevator, Yvonne approached us. “Mr. Raven, I have a message for you. I was just bringing it down.”

  I frowned because I’d told her I wasn’t to be interrupted when I was with Grace. I took the message. “Thank you. I’m going out for the rest of the day.”

  The elevator door opened, and Grace stepped in.

  Yvonne looked at Grace and then me. God knew what she was thinking, but since my personal life or mental health wasn’t any of her business, I didn’t say anything as I got into the elevator.

  My driver met us on the street, and we rode through the city until we pulled up in front of the Veterans Administration Building. My stomach turned.

  “What are we doing here?” I asked as we got out of the car.

  “There is a group starting in about ten minutes. You should go to it.”

  I was shaking my head before her words finished. “No. I agreed to see you.”

  “But now things have changed. And I think a group will be helpful to you.”

  “I can’t go to a group.” Jesus, it had been hard enough to tell her the tiny bits that I had. There was no way I’d be able to tell a group of people.

  “Why not?” She asked.

  I knew this was going to sound conceited but I said, “Because I’m Hunter Raven.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “And I’m Grace Reynolds. So what?”

  Why had I thought that her ability to challenge me was so attractive before? “I can’t be seen in a place like this. It could hurt the reputation of Raven Industries.” I could only imagine what my father would think if he knew I was confessing that I, a warrior, was having nightmares like some pussy.

  Grace put her hands on her hips. “How would getting help hurt the company?”

  “Because they’ll say I’m…” I searched for a word that wouldn’t piss her off.

  “Crazy? Unstable?” she offered.

  I didn’t answer but, yeah. My family wanted me to get help but only discreetly. A group wasn’t discrete.

  “So you think your fellow military brothers and sisters, who suffered the same things you did are crazy? Are you crazy, Hunter?”

  I blew out a breath. “It’s the image we’re talking about here, Grace.”

  “Do you think Sara and Chase are crazy?”

  Huh?

  “They had counseling. Are they crazy?”

  I’d known about Sara, but not Chase. I knew Grace was trying to help, but the idea that even Chase needed counseling over losing his child made me feel worse than I ever had. Of course, it made sense now that he’d been so adamant that I see a counselor.

  “Damn, I shouldn’t have said that,” she said. “The point is, Hunter, it’s not a weakness to need help. Society is sympathetic to veterans needing help after experiencing trauma in war.”

  I scoffed. “People who haven’t served thank us for our service, but they have no idea what service entails. All they know is that we’re not quite right in the head when we get back. Raven Industries can’t have someone running security who is viewed as unstable.”

  “You’re right, most people don’t fully understand what you went through. You know who does? The men and women in this group. They know about having nightmares and having to sleep with the lights on.”

  I didn’t sleep with the lights on.

  “They know about being embarrassed about having a panic attack at the sound of a helicopter or a car backfiring. They know what it’s like to live like the boogeyman is one step behind you, even though you’re now home safe.”

  “I understand what you’re saying, but I can’t risk people talking about—”

  “What about helping them?”

  I stared at her, not sure what she meant.

  “You are Hunter Raven. People look up to you and respect you. If you get help, others will too because they’ll see there’s no stigma to getting help.”

  Fuck.

  She pressed her hand to my chest. “Just go once. You don’t have to say anything. Just listen. Besides, since when you do care what others think?”

  My lips twitched up slightly at that because she was right. I didn’t give a fuck what people thought usually, including my family.

  “You’ll come with me?” I asked.

  “I’ll introduce you to the leader of the group, but it’s for vets only.”

  I frowned. “I thought we were going to do this together.”

  “You do this, and when it’s done, I’ll be back and we can do something else.”

  I took in her pretty hazel eyes and sweet lips wondering when I’d become a slave to my need for her. Because I was, I nodded.

  She led me to a room where about a dozen men sat in a circle. A few looked old enough to have served in Vietnam, and a couple in the first Iraq war. Others were closer to my age, except
for one who looked like a kid.

  “This is a men’s only group,” she said as she waved toward one of the men who looked old enough to have served in the first Iraq war.

  “Sexist, isn’t it?” I asked.

  She grinned. “Since you like to speak in sexual innuendo a lot, I thought it might be better.”

  I winced. “I can control that.”

  She arched a brow. “Can you now?”

  Busted.

  She introduced me to the leader, who was named Jim, and then left me. I felt like a fucking fish out of water, but I sat. I think a few men recognized me, but they didn’t say anything except hello and welcome.

  Since there was no way I was going to share my innermost secrets, I sat and listened. The first guy talked about having dreams, not much unlike my own. The other men nodded. Okay, so I wasn’t alone in that.

  About halfway through the group, the kid started to speak, telling us about how he was picked on now by civilians and military.

  “They think because I’m not missing a limb or something, I faked my injury to get out and come home.” The young man, Jacob, was trying to keep it together, but I could see he was upset and trying to hold back his pain. “Twenty-three and my military career is over, and I’ve got the rest of my life to be called a coward.”

  “That’s fucked,” another man said.

  “If I could open up my head and show them my scrambled brain and all the darkness in there, then they’d know,” he said.

  “I was discharged for a traumatic brain injury,” I said. The minute it was out of my mouth, I couldn’t believe I’d said it.

  The kid looked at me. “Really?”

  I nodded. “I didn’t want out either.”

  “Did people hassle you?” he asked.

  Another man laughed. “No one is going to hassle a Raven.”

  I flinched, but I’d gone this far so I kept going. “He’s right. People don’t hassle me or say I faked my injury, but then, it’s pretty clear to my family that I’m fucked up in here,” I pointed to my head. “At least, more so than when I left.”

  “How do you deal with it?” the kid asked.