He laughed. “You’re nuts.”
***
Matthew pulled onto the lot surrounding the VA hospital and parked. His hands tightened over the steering wheel as he glared at his feet. “Well,” he finally muttered. “Let’s go get this shit over with.”
Geeze. Don’t let your enthusiasm get in your way, Matthew.
He stalked around the Escalade to open her door. When he held out his hand to help her step down, she knotted her fingers around the hair at the nape of his neck and tugged his mouth down to hers. Pulling back, she smirked at the way his black mood had evaporated as heat filled his eyes.
“I really like your jeans, Matthew. I’d love to peel the fly down with my teeth.”
He cocked a brow. “You’re not making it easy to be on time here, baby. If you’re trying to change my mind about the appointment, by all means . . . I’d like to see you try.”
She frowned. Damn it. “Come on, jerk. We gotta go meet the good doctor.”
His eyes darkened with all kinds of carnal promise. “You sure?”
“No,” she growled with petulance.
As she followed him down a long, winding hallway, past the physical therapy rooms, and a big event room, she took in the atmosphere of the place. A group of men in wheelchairs were hanging out around a table that was littered with foil wrappers from candy bars. Some of them were dressed down, and some were in uniform, but the bond they seemed to share was undeniable. The sound of laughter cracked through the room every once in a while as one of the men or women leaned forward to tell a joke, or when someone rammed into the other’s wheelchair like they were playing bumper cars.
This place was so different from Mary’s Nursing Home. Her mom’s place was subdued, the hallways hushed except for the shuffle of feet and the intermittent cough or slur of muttered words. There, beneath the cafeteria’s smell of bread and over-processed mashed potatoes, a cloying, almost-sweet stink hung in the air.
The scent of death.
Allie stopped, needing to catch her breath as a fresh wave of anguish fractured through her chest. And it dawned on Allie that Mary was dying. Maybe not for twenty years, but it was happening, and whether it happened within two months or two-hundred, Allie was not ready for it. Tears pricked her eyes and she blinked them away, not wanting Matthew to see her. She would have to think on the revelation later.
“You alright?” Green eyes met hers.
“Yeah. I just caught my foot,” she muttered.
This was a place of healing, though. Hope rang through every corridor, lifted on the sounds of gruff voices and laughter. Regardless of the few men or women who sat quietly and alone—their expressions broken and lost—this was where you went to recover. A family of sorts.
Allie and Matthew took an elevator up to the third floor.
The doors pinged open and they stepped inside. What was it about elevators that had the heat rising all around them? Allie’s tongue went dry as she eyed Matthew. He was looking down at her, too. His half-smile made another appearance and he ran his thumb under his chin as his head cocked to the side. Allie would have swallowed if her sandpaper mouth would have allowed it. “Elevators,” he said, shaking his head.
“Elevators,” she agreed.
Luckily the doors opened again before Matthew had a chance to act out whatever deliciously evil thoughts were running through his head.
Allie rushed out ahead of him while Matthew’s velvet chuckle chased over her senses like a dark caress.
The room they were looking for was halfway down the corridor. When they passed by a large waiting room that was packed to its limit with people—some missing limbs, and some wearing eye patches, others pacing and frustrated—Matthew’s breath sucked in through clenched teeth.
“What is it?” she asked.
He shook his head. “Nothing.” His mouth pressed into a hard line.
Her brows shot up. “Nothing?”
His eyes flashed back to the room as they passed by. “VA benefits suck. TRICARE . . .”—he shook his head again, eyes darkening—“well, let’s just say a lot of servicemen are left hanging. For months, sometimes. These places are always packed.”
Before Allie could respond, he said, “This is it.” He pulled open a door for room 376. Fingers light on Allie’s hip, he shepherded her inside.
The room was nice, not upscale or anything, but clean and modestly furnished. Super casual. More like a family room than a waiting room. In one corner a receptionist typed on her computer while she talked on the phone. Allie sat down to wait while Matthew went up to let her know they were there. The woman looked up . . . then looked up again at Matthew. She swallowed; face growing red as she got a good look at him. Clearly flustered, her hands kept going to her hair—patted it down and brushed it off her shoulder.
Allie suppressed her inner-cavewoman—who wanted to go up and grab Matthew by his man pouch and growl mine!—and, instead, sat back to watch the show.
As the woman’s eyes snapped back to her, Allie smirked.
That’s right, lady. He’s all mine.
The woman seemed to suppress a scowl and went back to taking Matthew’s information.
Allie dropped her attention to a stack of magazines on the table across from her. Therapy Today; Prevention; US Weekly; People—what? Kim Kardashian is the sexiest woman alive? Oh, gag—
Ah, here we go. . .
National Geographic Traveler. Looked promising.
She picked it up and started thumbing through the glossy pages. Since she’d never been outside the US, she ate up the images of swaying palm trees (way cooler than the swaying palm trees in Phoenix), luxury hotels, and exotic foods.
Scotland’s lush, rolling green hills and black, craggy shores jumped out at her. She’d always wanted to go to Scotland.
Wonder how many of these places Matthew had been to? Though, she had a feeling he had most likely never visited areas that would make it on the cover of a magazine advertisement—shadow that he was by profession. She thought of the movie, Taken, with Liam Neeson and shuddered. How would it be to see life through such tainted eyes? The thought made her sad.
She’d just flipped to the back where there was an advertisement for one of the millions of Sandals resorts when Matthew dropped into the seat beside her.
“What are you looking at?” His arm settled over her shoulders and she did a little happy dance inside.
“Dolphins.” She turned the page so he could see the image of a family swimming next to one of the smiling, blue-finned creatures.
“Fuckers,” he growled.
“What?” She gaped up at him.
“I hate dolphins.”
Her brow furrowed. “How can you possibly hate dolphins?” She turned the page back to him as evidence. “They’re so cute!”
“Mean bastards.”
Allie curled her nose as her mouth pursed.
His deep chuckle washed over her, the corner of his lips tipping up. “Kicked the shit out of me during a training exercise. Dolphins were used to guard a reef we were at. Fucker cracked two of my ribs. Would have set me back a full six months before I could re-qualify if the onsite doc had caught on.”
Her eyes grew huge. “Seriously? What happened to the dolphin?”
His teeth flashed. “Punched the bastard right in the blow hole.”
Allie giggled. She had no idea if he was telling the truth or exaggerating, but the image of Matthew getting the crap kicked out of him by a school of the world’s most adorable sea creatures nearly had her in stitches.
His hand curled indecently high up her leg. “I like that sound.”
A shiver instantly sparked up her spine while she melted into a warm puddle of expectation. “What sound?” Was her voice really that breathy?
“Your laugh.” He frowned. “I don’t hear it enough.”
“Oh.” She blinked, trying to keep track of his mood changes. How’d he manage to go from cracking jokes, into Lothario mode, and then fall into the clutch
of self-contempt, all within a few seconds?
When a man walked out to the family room/waiting room and crossed to where they were sitting Allie glanced up.
“Matthew Lynch?”
Squeezing her thigh once—for good luck?—Matthew stood, and tugged Allie up with him. She quickly dropped the magazine back into the stack.
“Yes, sir.”
“I’m Dr. Nilekani. But you can call me Dr. Nik if you want.” He reached out to shake Matthew’s hand. Dr. Nilekani was a little shorter than Allie, built like a bird, with warm-brown skin and a head of jet black hair that circled two shiny spots at his temples. He had a good, friendly smile, wore a set of tan khakis, and a golf shirt—the kind with one of those little alligators over the left breast.
Sigh.
No Tweed anywhere.
“And you are?” Dr. Nik turned brandy-colored eyes on Allie.
“This is my girlfriend, Allison.”
“Nice you could come.” Dr. Nik nodded his approval as his eyes dropped to their linked hands. “Would you both follow me?”
“Sure you want me to come with?” Allie turned to Matthew in uncertainty.
Matthew’s brows pursed briefly. “Of course.”
They walked into a smaller room stuffed with shelves of manuals and hardcovers. The place smelled like a library. A silk plant sat in one corner next to a fabric couch, where a box of tissues was propped up on one of the arm rests, as though the last patient had needed to keep it close.
Allie sat next to Matthew and tried her best not to fiddle or bite her lip. Who knew what Sigmund Freud would think of that? Matthew was stiff and his hand hadn’t left hers.
“So, Matthew, I see in your paperwork that you’ve been to another therapist before.”
“Yes,” he bit out.
Dr. Nik looked up at him, eyebrows arched, but still smiling. “But you stopped seeing them?”
“Yes.”
Allie looked at her man and sighed. Oh, Matthew, with the one word answers! He kept this up and they’d be here till next year.
“And so, why have you decided to come back today?”
Matthew squeezed Allie’s hand tighter, lost for words.
Dr. Nik sat back in his chair and propped a bent leg over his knee, fingers steepling. “You are in a safe place here, Matthew, and you most certainly are not the only member of the military who has sought help. We’re here together to resolve whatever problems you’re facing. I’m just a tool at your disposal. But I can only help you if you allow yourself to use me.”
Allie ran her thumb over Matthew’s hand, wanting to offer him some support.
“You were in the SEALs?” the doctor urged.
“Yeah,” Matthew said.
“And it says here that you finished your last tour roughly six months ago?”
“That’s correct.”
“Where were you based?”
“Virginia.”
“Ah. I have a daughter who lives in Fairfax. Lovely place. Wonderful beaches. Green. Did you like it?”
“Yeah. It was nice.”
“And so what brought you here to Phoenix?”
Matthew leaned forward a little. “Work. My brother and I”—his words cut off—“we started a security company here.”
“Ah. What do you specialize in?”
This seemed to pull Matthew out of his shell a little. They talked for a minute about PPMS and its founding. When Matthew started to relax, Dr. Nik said, “Now. Why don’t you tell me a little about what has been troubling you?”
When he started to shut down again, Allie whispered, “It’s okay, Matthew. Go ahead.”
“I’ve been having trouble sleeping. Problems, uh, with seeing things, too.”
“Flashbacks are not uncommon. Do they occur during the day or just at night?” Dr. Nik pulled out an iPad and began taking notes.
“Both, sometimes. But mostly at night.”
“And it says here you aren’t on any medication? Yes?”
Matthew bristled. “Yeah. But I don’t want drugs.”
Dr. Nik’s eyebrows arched slightly at Matthew’s tone, but he merely nodded and smiled. “Yes, well. We can see what we can do for that.”
“I’ve gotten physical, too. With Allie.” His eyes shut and a look of pain burrowed into his expression. “That’s why I’m here.”
“I see.” Dr. Nik set his iPad on the edge of his desk. “I have a few options that may work for you. From what it says in your file, and the report from your last therapist, I think it would be beneficial to try a few different therapies. I, myself do not condone the use of medication unless it is an absolute necessity, but where you are having problems with sleep, I’d like to prescribe a light sleep aid to start. I’ll give you some meditation and relaxation exercises to do before you go to sleep at night, as well. Although, they can be used anytime you may feel the need for them. You should try these first, and then, if you are still unable to sleep, you’ll have the medication, but only as a last resort. How do you feel about that?”
Matthew frowned. “Guess that would be alright.”
“Compounded with these tools, I also use a form of talk therapy. I’d like to see you once a week for the next month, so that we can go over in much more detail what feelings you are struggling with.”
“Talk therapy,” Matthew repeated slowly.
“Yes. We’ll delve into what you’re going through and see if, together, we can elucidate each problem.”
Matthew tensed beside Allie and then his voice lowered, “Like, visualize the problem and imagine a different ending, right?”
Dr. Nik had caught on to Matthew’s building hostility. His leg came down off his knee. “I take it you have already tried some different forms?”
“With the last shrink.” Matthew stood, startling Allie. “Look, doc, no offense, but pretending things that have happened, didn’t really happen is a bunch of bullshit. Living in a kind of delusion so I can feel good about myself is not going to undo anything, or bring back people who have died. If that’s all you’ve got, then you’re wasting my time.”
Dr. Nik stood. “Matthew, would it be okay to show you something?”
Matthew’s brow furrowed. “What is it?”
“Come with me.”—he turned to look at Allie—“you, too, of course, Allison.”
When Matthew grunted a, “why not,” Allie scrambled to keep up and follow them out the office door. Dr. Nik led them down a narrow hallway and into a room that was stacked with computer equipment. In its center was a chair, similar to what you’d find in a dentist’s office, with a TV monitor set up in front of some kind of videogame equipment. Dr. Nik walked over to it and pulled out a set of small, white sensors.
“This device is used for something called neurofeedback training, or NFT. The other therapies in which you have previously participated were trying to get you to respond differently to certain stimuli. Your previous therapist had you “visualize” the difficult memories in an attempt to change your reaction to them and, thus, reduce the intensity of the flashback; though it was quite obviously unsuccessful. NFT has been used by the military for some time as a part of its mental toughness program. Wearing these sensors, you will essentially be playing video games as your brain activity is monitored on this screen.” The doctor pointed to a computer monitor on a desk beside the dentist chair. “We will follow your brain’s activity and then retrain it to respond more appropriately to stimulus. NFT has proven quite effective in PTSD patients, such as yourself.”
“PTSD.” Matthew let the words roll off his tongue, like he’d never allowed the word to be applied to himself before.
Dr. Nik smiled. “Many patients enjoy it.”
Matthew seemed intrigued by the whole video game therapy deal. After they left the room, Dr. Nik turned to them. “Allison, would it be okay if I spoke with just Matthew for the remainder of the hour?”
“Yes. Sure.” She turned her eyes up to Matthew. “You good?”
“Yeah.” Ma
tthew agreed, gradually.
“I’ll just hang out in the reception room.” She stood up on her tiptoes to kiss Matthew lightly on his cheek and walked back to her waiting stack of magazines to bunker down for the rest of the session.
Chapter twenty-three
When Matthew came out a little while later, he looked like he’d been through the ringer. He was still upright and the doc wasn’t missing any teeth, however, so Allie figured she could give two points to therapy.
Matthew went over to the receptionist lady to schedule his next appointment while Allie turned Fruit Ninja off her phone and grabbed her purse. Finished with the paperwork crap, he turned, leaving poor, poor receptionist with only the memory of his perfect ass as he walked over to Allie.
“Ready?” His eyes didn’t make it up to hers.
“Yeah.”
He breathed out a heavy sigh to pull himself together. His shoulders went back with some effort and he grabbed onto Allie’s hand. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”
Okay. She looked up into his face, wishing she could crawl around inside his head and toss out whatever ugliness was eating at him. The walk down to the elevator was silent, and so was the whole ride down to the first floor. No sexy exchanges or flirting. Matthew was a wooden facsimile of himself, anxiety coming off in waves.
What had he and Dr. Nik talked about that had Matthew’s stress meter hitting the upper atmosphere?
Allie peeked up at him from under her lashes.
His mouth was tight. Jaw set. Eyes . . . haunted.
Oh, man.
Allie hoped this had been a good idea. “You okay?”
He didn’t even look down at her. “Yeah. I’m good,” his words a pale attempt at convincing her.
She squeezed his hand a little tighter, wanting to tell him how much she loved him. How proud she was of him for going. How things would get better.
She settled for the silence and let him tow her out the front doors of the VA.
At the Escalade Matthew pulled her around to the passenger side and started to open her door. Shaking hands settled on the door handle and then constricted, like he was thinking about ripping the thing off. When his fist pounded into the door Allie jumped. He spun around on her and she was suddenly yanked into his hard arms. He hunched into her, wrapped around her body, his face burried in her hair, his eyes tightly closed. No crying or anything sissy like that.
Captured at Nightfall (Capture My Heart Love Story) Page 18