Crave: Addicted To You

by Ash Harlow

  He managed three hours of sleep before the nightmare kicked in. It took longer these nights to pull out of the dream state. Repeatedly he thought he’d woken, only to find himself back in the chaos, the stench of bodies, torn flesh, blood, the screaming, the wailing of the little girl. Finally he was there, on his bed, panting and tangled in sheets soaked through with his sweat, stinking of his fear.

  He stripped his bed of the sodden linen and filled the washing machine, and went through to the small sitting room. In darkness, he put himself through a punishing workout, a warrior routine that would keep him safe. Ready for battle.

  In the shower he soaped himself, leaned against the wall, eyes closed, and let the water wash over him. If he concentrated he could imagine it felt like a caress, and if he took those thoughts a bit further he could have Lulah in the shower with him. He reached for the tap and flicked it to cold to make his heart lurch and bitch at him, breathing through it, and waiting for the pounding to settle.

  When he brewed his coffee, he was still wired. The barbs of his nightmare clawed at his thoughts, his soul ensnared in recriminations he tried not to let follow him out of the inky night. He slipped into bargaining mode, telling the nightmare he would revisit the next time he attempted sleep but, please, stay out of my days.

  He hated the futility of arguing with the various bits of his psyche he couldn’t quite pull together and make whole. Though not yet seven a.m., Vince was already fractured and exhausted.

  At the table, he picked through the small stack of mail that he’d ignored for a couple of days. Mostly utility bills, appointments with people who would remind him what a screw-up he was, and something from a company with so many surnames it had to be a law firm.

  With a steady hand he reached for a knife to slide along the seal of the envelope. The thick wad of papers he pulled out stilled him. Nothing in his life would change until he unfolded the papers and read the contents.

  Jesus Christ.

  An ache pushed at his skull. It had been held at bay by Lulah’s calm and his carving, but now it came rampaging through. He knew he should get to the medicine cabinet, take the drugs before the pain took hold, but he couldn’t stop staring at the wad of papers.

  He didn’t recall opening them, smoothing them flat to the table, trapping with his hands the corners that wanted to fold back up and hide the message, but when he studied the papers their words spoke right back. Taryn had filed for divorce.

  Why was it such a surprise? Why did it feel like another thump in the gut when he expected it all along? He wanted to do the decent thing and bring some peace to his family. It would allow Gable to grow up without him affecting her. The papers slipped from his grasp, back to the table. They had to be read. There would be conditions and terms that he should become familiar with, but what the heck? He’d already told Taryn she could have what she wanted. There wasn’t much of him left, but they were welcome to pick over the waste of what remained.

  A glance at the wall clock told him it was past time to leave for the Sanctuary, so he called Calliope to his side and headed out to the pickup. It wasn’t until he started the engine he realized he’d completed the exercise without performing his usual anxious yard reconnaissance. And it wasn’t till the thudding set up in his head that he realized he’d never made it to the medicine cabinet. Calliope threw him a concerned look from the footwell of the vehicle. He had to slow down because he was scaring the only friend he had left.

  There was Lulah, of course, but surely she’d distance herself as soon as she saw the real Vince.

  At the Sanctuary he parked up by Marlo’s office rather than down at the HQ where most of the dog training work took place. Apparently he had to meet with the service dog trainer before actual training began. He climbed from the truck and could see everyone waiting for him: Marlo, Lulah, a guy who must be the trainer, heck, even Adam.

  He flunked his way through the introductions trying to focus on listening, watching Calliope, and keeping the pain in his head to a minimum. His anxiety stretched his limits and he knew he was close to a state where a flashback wouldn’t come as a surprise. In minutes, from a subconscious need to protect himself, he’d dissociated.

  There he was, back as security camera guy—watching, but not taking part. He hoped nobody would notice, but Marlo spoke to him, her voice floating, away in the distance. Calliope thunked her head into his lap, and he placed his hand on her, feeling her warmth. But, dammit, he couldn’t pull himself out of that corner.

  Suddenly he heard Lulah curse. Oh, bad girl, Lulah. No dirty language in front of handsome, totally-got-his-shit-together, Mike, the dog trainer. She approached him, he could smell her and, at the same speed as he’d left, he was back. Lulah reached out to touch his shoulder, and he heard Adam warn her not to crowd him.

  Misery washed through him like a dirty tide. He wanted to leave, hating feeling this way, like the lunatic at the picnic. He stood, easing his thigh out from beneath the press of Calliope’s head. “Sorry,” he spoke to the space on the floor a foot ahead of him, “I have to go.”

  In that moment, Adam was alongside him. He took hold of his sleeve, out of the view of the others in the room, and bent close to his ear. “Hey, Vince, where are you at the moment?”

  Vince stared back at him, his mouth dry, the smell of dust in his nostrils. “I’m nowhere. Absolutely nowhere.”

  Adam tugged his sleeve. “Okay. You and I are stepping outside for a couple of minutes for you to take some air, and when you’ve recovered, we’re coming back in here. Understand?”

  It sounded so close to a threat that Vince wanted to thump him. “This isn’t going well,” he replied through clenched teeth.

  Adam hadn’t moved or released him. “And that’s why we’re stepping out together.” He turned to the others in the room. “Give us a minute, will you?”

  Vince felt like the bad kid in the classroom, and he rounded on Adam as soon as they were away from the office. “I’m not a fucking child.”

  “I’m not treating you like one, but you needed a breather and I’m following along to make sure you return to the office rather than climbing in your pickup and driving off. Okay?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Bullshit. Now, go through your breathing routine and let me know when you’re back.”

  “And if I don’t?” Yep, now he was the child.

  “In case you hadn’t noticed, Lulah is sitting in that room, wishing and praying that this is all going to turn out fine.”

  “Which is precisely why I don’t need the pressure of this.”

  “Come on, Vince. There’s a lot riding on this for you, for Lulah. Ultimately, it’s taking pressure off you. Now, will you do the breathing thing before I call Marlo out here to take a stick to you?”

  Yeah, he could do it. He could do it for Gable, and for Lulah. As he breathed and made himself take note of his surroundings, his anxiety reduced. The dirty tide still sloshed at his inner shore, but he knew he’d make it through the next couple of hours.

  Mike had a ton of questions, and some of them felt pretty intrusive. At one stage Vince suggested they request his file from his counselor at the VA. The room went silent. “Honestly, I’d much prefer it to sitting here dredging all this up.” With insistence from Adam, Mike decided they had enough to go on and if any issues they hadn’t covered cropped up, they’d deal with them at the time.

  They shifted to the large exercise yard behind the quarantine area where they could train in private and Vince showed him the basic obedience exercises he and Calliope had worked on. Mike gave them some tips, and left them a bunch of homework. Vince watched while Mike walked away with Lulah to discuss a full training plan, his mood darkening as the pair disappeared in the direction of HQ. The other guy would win the girl; fair enough, because he had nothing to offer her.

  He called Calliope and decided to head over to Lulah’s barn. The restoration job had arrived, and if he started on the planning, he could forget about all th
is other stuff. He entered the barn, and inhaled its soft cool air.

  The wood for the carving for Gable’s wagon lay on the workbench, the design traced out and ready for his chisel. He cast a quick and critical eye across the drawings he’d finished the previous evening, but couldn’t gather enough enthusiasm to start on the work. When he sat in the armchair Lulah inhabited the night before, Calliope lowered herself to the floor at his feet.

  That was hell at the Dog Sanctuary. One-on-one with a therapist was bad enough, but he felt as though he was up against four of them today and the entire experience left him jittery. Each of them had different expectations of him. And now the fucking divorce papers. If Taryn could strike him from her life with a pen stroke, why couldn’t someone write away his pain?

  He didn’t know how he could live through the possibility of Gable being kept permanently from him.

  Still in the armchair, hours later, he watched as Lulah arrived on her bike at the cabin, and a short time after left in her car. His breath stuttered. An intense tingle rippled through his chest and arms, as if his skin contracted, wakening peripheral nerves, and relaxed. A palpable response to seeing her, and the fact that he felt something made everything loud, then very low, as if someone had jacked his volume switch.

  Having wanted to feel for so long it now played like a nasty trick, like something quenching and delicious on the other side of the razor-wire fence.

  Tonight was yoga night. Intuitively, Lulah seemed to understand that he wouldn’t be going with her as he often did. Either that, or she was so pissed at him she didn’t want him to wreck her calm.

  Sometimes he hated that yoga. Hated the allowances put on for him that reinforced what a jerk he was. The open closet doors were so that he wouldn’t spend the entire session fretting about what hid within the room’s blind spots. He could feel the watch of the others as he tried his best not to scan the room before he lay down, but never succeeded.

  Hell, they wanted him to lie there with his eyes closed. Seriously?

  He should get out of the chair and start on the restoration, or the carving on Gable’s wagon. In his mind he pulled up her smile, her joy when she towed the wagon around the yard until the awful moment of what had occurred tumbled in.

  Fuck it. Why couldn’t he run through a single happy memory without the intrusion of war? His head fell to his hands and he started to rock.

  He couldn’t continue like this. He stood and Calliope came immediately to his side, following him as he grabbed a pen and paper from his workbench, then out to the pickup to retrieve her leash. They went to Lulah’s porch and Vince sat at her table and wrote a note.

  There is a terrible battle in my soul and I can’t make anything beautiful while it rages.

  Out there, in the mountains, is a place I can stay awhile, talk with friends who are no longer here.

  Please, watch Calliope for me while I fight my war.

  One more time, please…

  I AM sorry. Truly.

  He tied Calliope to the porch railing. Joker was inside the cabin and Lulah probably minutes away. Calliope watched as he drove off.

  Vince’s backpack bit into his shoulders and he gave them a slow roll. The weight was comforting, like a hug. Hot, hot hell, it was good to feel something. He locked the pickup and started up the track. On the trail, he could control the chaos. Nobody to harm, no expectations, no emotional investment with anybody else. Simply encounter, react, encounter, react. Burn off some stress and reduce the commotion in his head.

  He’d let Lulah down and right now there wasn’t one thing he could do to make that better, because until he improved, he had to be a selfish ass. He should stay away from her, tell her she needed to find someone else to help with her course work. If he could find another place to do his woodwork, and ask one of the others at the Sanctuary to watch Calliope for him, he’d be sweet. Sorted.

  Lulah in Lycra.

  What a sight she was in her yoga gear. The pants that hugged her butt, that little top that curved around her pert breasts, small and perfectly formed, and memorable. With that white spiky hair she looked like an imp. A sexy, mischievous sprite. If this day had started differently and traveled another route he could have been there with her, at the yoga class. Sure, his mind didn’t steady much, but it usually finished up a pleasant hour where he could set his thoughts aside and concentrate on his physical self.

  A quiet practice of stillness…not for me tonight.

  It was time to disembark from this train of thought. He picked up his pace to a slow jog to reach the ridge where he could pitch his tent before sunset. Once camp was made, he would let his demons loose for a mid-evening workout. There were times when yoga didn’t cut it for the monsters. They were more inclined to enjoy a sparring session over sun salutations.

  The demons hadn’t been contained for some time now. And the divorce papers had lit a blaze up their butts.

  Thank you, Taryn. Yeah, I know our marriage is fucked, but a phone call, a warning—would that be too much to ask? And what about Gable? What story are you spinning her about why Daddy doesn’t come home to see his girl these days?

  It’s a big mess in here, Lulah. Best you stay away.

  His marriage died before his last deployment. Taryn could scarcely hide her pleasure when he received his orders. But Gable? She wasn’t much over a year old when he’d left, and when he returned they were strangers. She called him Daddy with an odd look on her face, as if someone had lied and she was still trying to figure out exactly who.

  The episode was probably the driving force behind the divorce. Episode? What the fuck? That wasn’t an episode, it had been a full-blown gaggle-fucking meltdown. But, hey, call it an episode and nobody has to ride in the van wearing the back-buckle jacket. The neighbors don’t enjoy their chance to talk. The wife doesn’t feel humiliated.

  Perhaps that van ride might have done him some favors in the long run.

  In the wilderness, he wore the night like a cloak. It should have set every trigger ready to fire, yet it made him feel safe and strong. When the fearful energy built inside him he could deal with it out here, try a couple of things and use what worked.

  Yeah, Lulah, I’m a selfish prick, but God, I’m working so hard on making myself better. Thing is, I can’t be the person you want me to be until I’m whole again. And there’s no pain worse than the one that tackles you to the ground and rebuilds you. Some days I believe I’ll find my soul again. On other days, it’s too dark to contemplate.

  Chapter Eight

  Lulah sat in the office with Adam and Marlo. Calliope and Joker were outside with their dog, Justice, playing a noisy game of canine wrestling.

  “Mike will be here in fifteen,” Adam said, “and I want to talk about Vince before he arrives. That didn’t go too well yesterday, huh?”

  “Understatement much?” Lulah thought about Vince’s note that she still carried, uncertain if showing Adam and Marlo would create a bigger issue for him. She toyed with her coffee cup.

  Adam continued, “I handled it badly. I could see Vince had dissociated, and I didn’t want him to leave here when he came out of it. I played the tough card, but I think that was too confrontational. It’s probably why he’s taken off again.”

  “It’s not your fault. There’s so much going on in that head of his, I doubt your response was even the catalyst. We don’t have him totally on board yet with this training for Calliope. I’d thought of doing the tough thing, too. I was going to refuse to take Calliope anymore. You know, force him to take her with him. Now I see that won’t work.”

  “Last year I went to his house when he’d had that meltdown, and he wanted to give Calliope up.” Marlo fixed Lulah with a firm stare. “I believe we need to make things as easy for him with Calliope as we can. The two of them clearly have a strong connection. If you don’t want to take her when he goes off, Lulah, she can always come and stay with us.”

  Lulah shook her head. “No, it’s fine. It’s not the actual act
of taking care of Calliope that is the problem. In truth, I tried to force Vince to be one hundred percent responsible for her care. It sounds so ignorant, but I wanted him to stop dumping her on me when it no longer suited him to have her. I’m aware of so much more about him now, and I realize that no matter how much I want Vince to take responsibility for her, some days he isn’t capable of that. It’s not a matter of what suits him; it’s more about what he can manage. Foremost, he’s caring about Calliope, and I was caring about...” She took a deep breath, nearly trembling with the emotional force.

  She raised her head, looked from Marlo to Adam, back to Marlo again, hoping one of them would give her that nod that told her she’d said enough. There they sat, impassive, waiting for her to pull that last piece out. “Shit, I thought I could force him to get well. I thought, maybe if he tried a bit harder, he could make the horror parts of him go away.”

  “You want him to be more reliable.”

  Trust Adam to hit the spot. She nodded. Yes, that’s exactly what she wanted.

  “Does he share much with you, Lulah?”

  God, she could feel the weight of their expectation of her honest reply. She’d never been able to hide stuff from them. Obviously, her father’s poker face hadn’t passed down with his genes. “We don’t discuss much. Occasionally, he tells me something, but he tends to stop before he goes too deep. He wrote a note. Do you want to see it?” That offer felt like betrayal.

  Marlo responded quickly. “No, that was written to you. Unless you think we should see it or you think he’d harm himself, keep it between you and Vince.”

  She had spent much of the night worrying about that exact thing. Worrying that within the note was a clue that she might have missed. Something that would tell her he couldn’t go on. “I think it was more an apology for leaving Calliope again, rather than a cry for help.” All she could do now was hope she’d interpreted it right.