by Jen Talty
The Army gave him the sense of purpose he craved and soon, those middle of the night moments faded into the abyss, except for the rare occasion he had too much time with his own thoughts.
“Logan dropped off a car for you to use, but are you sure you can drive?” His mother leaned against the door, her arms folded across her chest. She’d been a force to be reckoned with his entire childhood, and without her, he wouldn’t have had the courage to continue.
“Other than going to physical therapy, I don’t plan on doing much but stare at the water and maybe toss over a fishing line.”
“How long do you really plan on staying?”
“I don’t honestly know. Can we take it week by week?” He never wanted to hurt his mother’s feelings, but he couldn’t lie to her either.
“You know you can come home anytime and stay as long as you like, but I’m worried about you. They told me very little about what happened and only the bare-bones of your injuries.”
He opened his mouth, but she held up her hand.
“I know you can’t talk about the mission or what happened to you. I accept that, and I’m not sure I want to know. But your body took a beating, and I’ve done some research on brain injuries—”
“Mom,” he interrupted, knowing that was something she despised. “I’m getting better every day. I just need time and space to heal.”
She nodded. “Promise me you’ll come to me if things get worse or something doesn’t feel right.”
“I promise.” And he meant it. He didn’t have a death wish, like some thought. All he wanted was to get back in the field, and in order for the Army to let that happen, he had to get back to his normal self.
“Good night, Dylan.”
“Night, Mom.” He pulled the covers to his chin, rolling to his side, staring out the window at Kinsley’s trailer. Talk about one hell of a sexy woman. Her eyes were the color of the ocean, and her dark hair flowed over her sun-kissed skin like a fine mink coat. The light from her family room filtered through the night, reaching like a long finger toward him. He cranked open the window, and he could hear a faint whisper coming from her television.
Now who was invading one’s personal space?
He closed his eyes, allowing his mind to form a vision of her walking down the beach in a white sundress that danced in the breeze like lilies, while his ears focused on the mumbles from whatever show she had on. The idea bounced around in his mind that if he could concentrate on these two things as he drifted off to sleep, they would keep the dreams at bay.
Focusing on something so pleasant when he’d been a teenager always did the trick, so he hoped it would be true while he lay in his childhood room.
He allowed himself to enter the vision in his mind, walking next to Kinsley, taking her soft hand in his as they strolled across the beach without a care in the world. She didn’t represent the need for a romantic relationship in his life, but simply trying to focus on light and fun, and maybe a little sexual distraction since he could see himself in bed with his mother’s beautiful neighbor.
Anything to keep the dreams at bay.
In his mind, he’d stopped walking and tugged Kinsley to his chest, circling his arms around her waist, staring into her blue orbs, licking his lips in anticipation of taking her mouth.
Certain body parts stirred.
Back to walking and no kissing. He wanted to sleep without having a nightmare, nothing more, nothing less. Besides, self-satisfaction wasn’t high on his list of things to do. But if he dreamt it, well then, that would be okay.
So, for now, he’d continue to take a stroll with Kinsley, with his hand firmly planted on the small of her back, until he drifted off into a peaceful sleep.
Key word: peaceful.
He let his body relax as his mind focused on Kinsley. He should feel guilty for using her like this, but she’d never know.
He took in as deep a breath as he could without the sharp pain of broken ribs shocking his system, letting it out slowly through his mouth. He repeated this action five times as he let his body slowly relax. Sleep only moments away…
The sky darkened, and Kinsley faded off into the ocean, smiling and waving as if they might see each other again. “I’ll be over here if you need me,” she said before her silhouette disappeared over the waves crashing into the shore.
A vortex hurled his body into the dense jungle. The screams from his men being tortured burned in his ears. The sounds were like nothing he’d ever heard before. His men didn’t even sound human anymore.
He glanced around the cage his captors held him in. His own body riddled with bruises, broken bones, and burning flesh. The tapping of metal against metal caught his attention as he whipped his body around.
Dad?
His father stood before him. He wore his favorite fishing T-shirt he’d gotten from the local surf shop, a pair of jean shorts, and his standard flip-flops. The only difference was he didn’t smile like he normally did when Dylan spent time with him.
“Why are you here?” Dylan asked, blinking. “You don’t belong here.”
“Don’t I?” his father said.
Dylan raised his hand and lunged forward. A sharp blade ripped through his father’s body.
His father howled, screaming in pain right along with his men. The screeching tore through Dylan’s brain. He tried to open his mouth to say something, but only gibberish came out.
The blade dropped to the ground, and Dylan stared at his shaking hand while his father fell to his knees, clutching his gut as blood oozed from his body like a waterfall.
From somewhere behind Dylan, the sound of electricity hitting water made his body shudder. He braced for the burn, but instead, it was his hands that applied the electric cables to his father’s body.
Dylan screamed as he bolted to an upright position. His dreams had morphed into him torturing his men, but this was the first time his father entered the dream.
A light flicked on outside.
Great, he’d woken his neighbor.
Which meant…
“Dylan!” His mother pushed open the door and before he could wipe the sweat that had beaded across his forehead, she was sitting on the bed next to him, her warm hand over his shoulder. “Are you hurt?”
“No,” he whispered, clearing his throat, trying to rid the visions of stabbing his father to death from his hazy mind. “I just had a bad dream.”
“Some bad dream. I remember after your father died, you had them, but you didn’t cry out like that. I thought maybe you were dying.”
His pulse continued to race. If his mother had only known what he’d dreamt about, she would have chosen different words.
“The dreams, according to the doctor, are normal. I’m just reliving some of what happened to me. This too shall pass.” He balled his fists in hopes it would calm his trembling body as he kissed his mother’s cheek. “Go back to sleep. I’ll be fine.”
His mother let out a long breath. “There was nothing normal about that scream. You really should be talking to someone about this.”
“I did when I was in the hospital.”
“Well, you should continue. Whatever happened over there changed you.” She stood, cupping his face. “You have a darkness lurking behind your eyes. It’s not that same restlessness you and your brothers have had in the past. This is new and it’s different, and I’m asking you to talk to someone if for no other reason than to humor your mother.”
“Mom, I’m—”
“No buts, and I know just the person.”
Dylan glanced at the clock. At four in the morning, he didn’t want to have this discussion.
“My neighbor, Kinsley, is a doctor, and she specializes in things like this.”
“I’ll think about it,” he said as he glanced out the window.
Kinsley’s silhouette moved across the window. It might not hurt to talk to her. It wasn’t like he’d see her after he went back to Delta Force and his mom moved to Orlando.
Cha
pter 3
Kinsley slowed her pace as she walked past Catherine’s trailer after her morning jog on the beach. If she couldn’t afford to live on the ocean, living across the street was the next best thing.
She rounded the bend that faced the Intracoastal Waterway, stopping in front of her trailer to get the newspaper. When she flipped it open, she stared into the rich, tortured eyes of Dylan Sarich. She settled down on her front porch overlooking the water, kicking her feet up, and started reading.
A Hero Returns Home.
Major Dylan James Sarich of the United States Army and part of the special forces group, Delta Force, was injured last month in an operation to rescue three marines that caused the loss of nine souls. Details of the mission are classified. However, in a ceremony on the Fourth of July, in Jupiter, Florida, Major Sarich will be awarded two medals: the Medal of Honor, for his heroism in combat, and the Purple Heart, for the life-threatening wounds he suffered during combat.
Sarich was born and raised in Jupiter, Florida, where his father, Michael Edward Sarich, had been the local sheriff for twenty years until he died in the line of duty. Dylan’s three brothers have all served in the military, and it is with great honor and respect, we welcome this hero, and his family, home.
Kinsley wiped the tears rolling down her cheeks. The shattering scream that had come from the Sarich trailer still sent goosebumps across her skin.
She’d only known Catherine for two months, but since the day Kinsley moved in, Catherine had done nothing but talk about her boys, her grandchildren, and her late husband. The Sarichs’ were good people, and it broke Kinsley’s heart to see such pain etched into Dylan’s eyes.
“Kinsley,” a familiar female voice said.
“Hi, Mrs… I mean Catherine.” Kinsley respected that Catherine preferred to be referenced by her first name. “How are you this morning?”
“Happy and sad at the same time.” Catherine stood at the base of the front porch, wearing a pair of leggings and fitted shirt, showing off a trim body for a woman who had to be in her mid-fifties but didn’t look a day over forty. “My other three boys and their families left early this morning to go back to Orlando.”
“Must have been nice to have everyone in the same place, even if for one evening.”
Catherine glanced over her shoulder and let out a long sigh. “I have a huge favor to ask.”
“Sure.” In the two months that Kinsley had lived in the neighborhood, she and Catherine shared happy hour cocktails once a week on Friday evenings. At first, Kinsley thought it made her look pathetic, but they were both exhausted from a long week of work, and it was a nice way to wind down, ignoring the fact that neither one of them had a man in their lives.
They didn’t need one.
“I don’t want to upset Dylan or embarrass him, but three times last night, he screamed in his sleep. I don’t mean like a normal nightmare scream. These were something like I have never heard before.”
Kinsley opted not to share with her neighbor that she’d heard at least one of those screams. “Have you asked him about them?”
Catherine nodded. “But he brushes them off as normal. He did have nightmares after his father died, but all the boys did. I spoke to his brother Nick, who lost his first wife and unborn child in a boating accident, and asked him what he thought since he suffered from nightmares for a while, but nothing like what I described. He thinks I should give Dylan some space, but, Kinsley, it was worse than listening to a baby with colic for hours on end and not being able to soothe them.”
Kinsley couldn’t relate to the baby thing, nor could she even understand a mother’s pain as it related to their child, since her mother hadn’t a clue how to parent. But Kinsley understood trauma and how it affected loved ones, and she could hear the torment in Catherine’s trembling voice.
“What do you want me to do?”
“I asked him if he’d consider talking to you, so I was wondering if you might stop by and offer?”
Kinsley bit down on her tongue. She didn’t like to push herself, or her profession, on friends. Being a psychiatrist, people constantly asked her opinion, and she usually gave a generic comment, but always refrained from getting too involved.
“Do you know if he’s talked to anyone? A doctor that specializes in these things?” This was Kinsley’s specialty, but she didn’t want to step on anyone else’s toes.
“He says he did in Germany, but I have his doctor schedule for the next few weeks here, and he’s only seeing a physical therapist and has a follow-up with a neurologist. That’s it.”
“I’m sure the Army has done a full evaluation and will do one before he is allowed back into active duty.” Kinsley had two retired vets as patients, plus her father spent years in the service, so she understood a little bit on how the military worked. “And it hasn’t been that long since the mission. His mind is also going to need time to heal.”
“He’s not the same man,” Catherine said with pleading eyes. “I know my boys, and they all have had their own demons to battle since their father died, but Dylan—his are darker and deeper.”
Kinsley waved Catherine to join her on the porch. “What do you mean?”
“They were all very close to their father. They were four musketeers and their dad their fearless leader. When Michael died, I did the best I could, but they all had this restlessness about them. Well, all of them but Nick, until his first wife died.”
“That must have been horrible for everyone.”
Catherine sat on the rocking chair, folding her hands in her lap. “Nick changed, and he quit his job as a cop and joined the military. It was good for him. Gave him purpose and bought him closer to Logan again. Those two have a special bond, like Ramey and Dylan. However, it also fed this restlessness all boys had.”
“Had?”
“Cliché, but the love of a good woman changed that with my first three.”
“Not cliché, but I’m sure there is more to that than meets the eye in the sense they overcame whatever held them back from making those kind of human connections. It isn’t uncommon for children, even adult children, to have problems with that when a parent dies.” Or runs off with their fifth husband without a word, leaving a sixteen-year-old to fend for herself.
“I’m afraid that whatever happened on this last mission has pushed him over an edge.”
“You think he could hurt himself?”
“No. No.” Catherine shook her head. “But Dylan, even more so than his daredevil brother Ramey, has always valued other lives over his.”
“How do you mean, exactly?” Kinsley should end this conversation and recommend a colleague, but after meeting the attractive man, hearing him scream, and listening to Catherine’s take, Kinsley was like a doe in headlights. “As in willing to lay down his life to save another?”
“Yes. All of my boys are like that, something they got from being the sons of a police officer. But Dylan is the kind of man that wouldn’t think twice about stepping in front of a speeding train to save someone even if he knew it would kill him.”
“I find that is true of a lot of men and women in the military. It’s in part why we honor them with medals and give them uniforms. You can’t put a price on a life, yet we pay them to do so.”
“But I think Dylan expects his death to happen that way, as if he’s waiting for it. He was only fourteen when his father died. I was at work when one of the deputies came to the door, and Dylan was the only one home. Logan was off at college, Nick at the Police Acedemy, and Ramey was off with some girl, being Ramey. Dylan went to the hospital where his father died only five minutes after he’d gotten there. I found him, sprawled out on the bed next to his father, and he wouldn’t get up. Ramey had to pull him off the bed with force.”
For the second time in less than an hour, Kinsley found herself wiping away tears. “Did he talk to anyone after that?”
Catherine nodded. “He saw the school psychologist and other than a few problems, which were more normal
teenage antics, Dylan made his way through high school and on to West Point, only I always sensed an emptiness inside him, bigger than his brothers. I think they all tried to fill their father’s void with adrenaline.”
“You know, you’d be very good at my job,” Kinsley said, trying to lighten the mood.
“Only, I don’t know how to help him, and whatever is tormenting him throughout the night scares me.” Catherine leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “I know it’s a lot to ask, but I was hoping you’d offer him an ear.”
“I’m happy to talk to him, whether it be in my office or casually, but I won’t pry and I will not report back to you.”
Catherine blinked, nodding. “I’m not normally one of those meddling mothers.” She pulled her hair over her shoulder, twisting it. “I only want to help my boy get through this troubling time.”
“I’ll let him know I’m available if he wants.” Before Kinsley could stand, Dylan hobbled down the front steps of his mother’s trailer.
“There you are,” he said, gripping the railing with one hand and a cane with the other. He sported a pair of jeans and a white T-shirt. Red marks that looked like burns dotted his exposed skin.
“Kinsley, I’d like you to meet my youngest son, Dylan,” Catherine said.
“We met yesterday, actually.” Kinsley stood, offering her chair.
“Thanks.” He limped across her squeaky wooden porch, scrunching his face as he sat down. “Normally, my mother would be grabbing me by the ear right now for taking a lady’s seat.”
“You didn’t take, I offered.” She leaned against the railing, trying not to stare, and it wasn’t the scar on the side of his face, the burns on his arms, or the boot on his foot that caught her attention.
His smile showed a kind and warm man, but behind his shimmering, pastel-blue eyes lurked a sadness that made her shiver.
“Why don’t I get us all some coffee, and I have banana bread in the oven.” Catherine leapt to her feet and practically raced toward her home.