Pull You Through

by Kaylee Ryan

  “Yeah, she said they usually get them into a VA hospital close to home, so their loved ones can be a part of their recovery.”

  “We have one in Lexington,” he tells me.

  “We do, but where will he stay? He can’t take care of himself. At first, he’ll be in the hospital, I realize that, but after, he’s going to have months of physical therapy once he’s released. Where will he stay?”

  “With us.”

  I stare at him. “He can’t do stairs.”

  “Well, your mom and I will just move up to the spare bedroom or better yet, the one down in the basement. We’ll figure it out, Austyn.”

  My eyes well up with tears. “Thank you. I just don’t want him to be alone, you know? I can see the pain he’s trying to hide. Not just the physical, but the mental. I want to be there with him, through all of this.” I choke back a sob. “I love you, Dad. You and Mom have always been there for me, no matter what the situation, but these last several months since meeting Slade… I can’t thank you enough for all that you’ve done.

  “We all will be. He probably needs to talk to a counselor too. I’m sure that’s mandated by the Marine Corp for injured marines.”

  “I’m sure. He’s in for a long road of recovery. He keeps asking about the guys he was with. I’m going to message Savannah later and see if she can find anything out the next time she talks to Brandon.”

  “I’m sure they’ll tell him. Aust, you need to keep in mind there’s a chance they didn’t make it. That they weren’t as lucky as Slade.”

  “That will crush him.”

  He nods. “You need to be prepared for that. He’s been through so much and seen things we can’t even begin to imagine.”

  “I’m going to pull him through this,” I say with complete certainty.

  “If anyone can, it’s you,” he assures me.

  We finish our food, then head back up to the room. Dad goes back to the hotel to get some more rest, and I settle in for the night on my makeshift bed, right next to his. I’ll be here when he wakes up and every day moving forward.

  I WAS ONLY IN THE hospital in Germany for a week. They transferred me here, to the veterans hospital in Lexington, Kentucky. Austyn and her dad stayed with me until I was ready to be transferred. I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to show them my gratitude for what they’ve done for me.

  I’ve been here for two months, and the pain is less each day. However, my physical therapist reminds me that once we start progressing my rehab, it’s going to be a bitch. He assures me they’ll give me something to ward off the pain, but it won’t be nearly as strong as what they were giving me in Germany, or when I first arrived here. He’s a real ball buster who’s already rehabbing my shoulder. He assures me my leg will be much worse.

  “Hello, knight,” Austyn says, breezing into the room.

  “Hey, angel.” I hold my good arm open and she leans into me, letting me hug her the best way that I can at the moment. She tries to pull back, but my hand on the back of her neck stops her as I press my lips to hers. “I missed you.”

  “You just saw me yesterday and every day before that.” She laughs, and I love the sound. It overrides all the others that play like a highlight reel in my head. The sound of Spiller screaming, the sound of my own screams, Combs telling me to get back, the explosion. It’s all like one very bad movie that I can’t turn off.

  “I know, it’s been almost twenty-four hours. I missed you.” I kiss her again then let her go.

  “I came right after class.”

  “How was it?”

  “Meh, general education classes are a bore. I can’t wait to start on the good stuff.”

  “I’m excited for you, babe.”

  “How was rehab today?”

  I lift my arm, showing her my progress. “Gets a little better every day.”

  “That’s great. Did he get you up on crutches today?”

  “He did. I walked the hall outside my room twice.”

  “That’s good to keep your noninjured leg in shape as well.”

  “You sound like him. Did he pay you to say that?”

  “No,” she says, laughing. “We got the rooms all changed out for when you get released. We finished it up last night.”

  “Are you sure they’re okay with this? I can just get an apartment.” We both know I can’t.

  “Positive. The room in the basement is actually bigger and the bathroom is better too. Mom has always said she wished that the one in their room was as nice. Now she has it.”

  “Thank you.”

  “They love you, almost as much as I do.”

  “Yeah?” I ask her.

  “Mmm hmm.” She leans in and kisses the corner of my mouth. “Now, for today’s dining pleasure, I have….” She reaches into her bag and pulls out a bag of ranch Fritos.

  “You really do love me,” I say, taking the bag from her.

  “So you hear anything about Spiller or Jeffers?”

  “No.”

  “I hate that they’re keeping you in the dark.”

  I don’t tell her that my gut tells me it’s bad. The longer I’m lucid and off the heavy dose of pain meds, the more details I can remember. No way Jeffers could have survived both explosions, and Spiller, he was badly burned. I can remember the smell of it; it will haunt me for the rest of my life. I don’t tell her any of that, or about the nightmares that keep me up at night. I don’t know how I can hide it once I’m living with them, unless I give in and take the sleeping pills they’ve prescribed me. I hate that I need them. I hate that my mind won’t shut off. I hate that I’m keeping this from her, but she doesn’t need to see this, to see the ugly that I have.

  “Aust, it’s not good,” I confess. “I just have a feeling it’s not good news.”

  “We have to have faith.”

  I change the subject. “How did Dawson do on his math test?” Her parents and Dawson stopped by last night, and he was telling me how hard he had been studying all week.

  “I haven’t heard yet. He was pumped up for it. I swear that kid is as smart as a whip.”

  “That he is.”

  “You know, I can see it.” She pauses a moment and strokes my forehead. “The pain behind your eyes. I can see that you try to hide it from me. I love all of you, Slade. Even the broken pieces.”

  “I’ll be okay,” I assure her. She’s right. I’m broken. But that’s for me to deal with. She doesn’t need to know the details of how I ended up a battered version of myself. Those are better left unsaid. “It’s just the memories sometimes are hard to fight off.”

  “You want to talk about it?”

  “No.”

  “Okay. I’m here when you do.”

  “I’m good, babe. Trust me.” I don’t need to talk about it. I need to forget. I need to erase that day from my mind. The sounds, the smells, and the heat, all of it. I just want it gone.

  She stays well past visiting hours, like always, but the nurses just look right past her as if she’s not even here. I’m thankful I have her. There any many here who don’t get a single visitor. That was my life, that’s where I would be, just like them, if I hadn’t met her. I don’t even want to find out what life without her would be like.

  SLADE HAS BEEN HOME NOW for two months, after three months in the hospital. By home, I mean here, at my parents’ house. He’s quiet most of the time, respectful. He watches TV with Dawson, compliments Mom on her cooking, and hangs out with Dad in the garage. We snuggle on his bed and watch TV at night. He then kisses me sweetly, and I head upstairs to my room. That’s become our routine. I schedule his therapy around my classes, and he’s getting better every day.

  But he’s also just going through the motions. Literally. He says and does the same things every day. I worry about him constantly, but I hate bringing it up. I know he hates to talk about it and even though I wasn’t there, I can only imagine what happened. We found out the day he came home, to my parents,’ that Jeffers didn’t make it. Spiller suffere
d severe burns to most of his body and was still in Germany. When we found out, that night he was quiet, claiming to have a headache and disappeared into his room. When I checked on him, he was lying on the bed staring up at the ceiling. I didn’t even try to get him to talk to me that night. Instead, I crawled into bed beside him and rested my head on his chest, thankful for its steady beat.

  He’s still my Slade, handsome as ever, scars and all. He’s still in great shape as he works out every day before therapy. His dark hair has grown out from his buzz cut, and his face is covered with stubble. He still holds me like I’m the air he breathes, and he still loves me. Of that, I’m certain. However, that’s the physical parts of him. The emotional, on the other hand, he’s… hurting.

  He still tells me that he loves me. He still kisses me any chance he gets, but the light that used to shine in those big brown eyes has dimmed. Nothing seems to excite him anymore. I wish there was something I could do to help him. He’s seeing a counselor as a mandate from the Marine Corps, but it doesn’t seem to be helping. I don’t know what to do. I’m at a loss. I just want him back. I want my Slade back. I’ll love the scars, both physical and emotional, if he would just let me.

  My parents are taking Dawson and a friend to an indoor water park for the weekend. It’s Dawson’s ninth birthday, and he’s pumped. He begged Slade and me to go, but I made excuses that I had too much schoolwork to catch up on. I didn’t want to blame it on the fact that Slade isn’t ready for wet surfaces and lots of kids racing around. He’s doing well, but I don’t want anything to slow his progress.

  “We have the entire house to ourselves all weekend,” I say, bouncing on the couch beside him.

  “We do,” he agrees. No emotion. If I had said that exact same thing before he deployed, there would have been fire in his eyes. His hands would have been on me in seconds. Not this time. This time he acts as though we’re discussing the weather. I’ve been patient with him, up to this point. I know he’s been through a lot, but unless he talks to me, hell, talks to someone, my fear is that he will never dig himself out of this rut he’s found himself in. My heart constricts in my chest just thinking about it.

  “So, what are we going to do about it?”

  He never takes his eyes off of the sports channel he’s watching. “I don’t feel like going out,” he says absently.

  “Slade!” I say his name louder than I intended. Reaching over him, I grab the remote and turn off the TV. He doesn’t yell at me to turn it back on; he just stares at the now blank screen. “Did you hear me? No one is here but us all weekend long.”

  “I heard you.”

  “I miss you.”

  “You see me every day.”

  “You’re right, let me rephrase that. I miss being intimate with you.”

  “I’m sorry, babe.” He puts his arm around me and holds me close. I take a deep breath, breathing him in. “Let’s go take a nap.”

  A nap? I try to not be offended. I know therapy takes a lot out of him. Besides, once I get him in the bedroom, I can have my way with him. I stand from the couch and offer him my hand to help pull him to his feet. He waves me off and struggles to stand on his own. I don’t argue, knowing he feels helpless enough already.

  In his room, he strips out of his clothes, leaving his boxer briefs on. I slide out of my shorts but opt to leave my tank and panties on. He settles himself on the bed, under the covers and holds them up for me. I take my spot beside him and snuggle into his chest. I place soft kisses against his heated skin.

  My hand follows the ridges of his abs taking my time. I explore his body. Before I can go any further, he captures my hand with his and brings it to his lips, kissing my knuckles. He then rests our combined hands on his chest. I fight back tears of frustration, tears of sorrow for the amazing man who can’t seem to get past the hell that he’s gone through. I wish I could take this from him, that I could shoulder the pain, the memories.

  If he would only let me.

  His breathing evens out and I know he’s asleep. Snuggling in a little closer, I soak up his warmth, letting sleep claim me.

  When I wake sometime later, I’m cold, and I know he’s no longer in bed with me. Prying my eyes open, I see him standing by the window. His arms are at his sides as he stares off into the distance. He’s slipped his pants back on, and that alone fills me with defeat. I don’t know how to get through to him. I don’t know how to help him. He kisses me, holds me like I’m still this precious gift, but I miss the feel of him over me when he makes love to me. I’m selfish for even thinking it. Deep down, I think he needs that connection too. But it’s as if he’s too scared to feel.

  Climbing out of bed, I approach him slowly. He doesn’t move, doesn’t speak, just continues to stare out the window. When I reach him, I rest my forehead against his shoulder blades, and my hands grip his back. I try to give him my strength. “Slade.” His name is barely a whisper, but I know he hears me. His body tenses. “Let me help you.”

  “You can’t,” he says brokenly. “You can’t fix me.”

  “Let me try.”

  “You can’t erase that day, Austyn. You can’t take those memories, the smells, the sounds, you can’t erase those from my mind. I’m captured in this hell, and there’s no way out.”

  My heart cracks. His voice holds so much pain, so much agony. “I’m here.” I press my lips to his heated skin. “Let me pull you through the darkness.”

  He’s quiet for several minutes, and I just hold him. My grip is firm, needing him to know I’m here. “I don’t know how,” he finally says.

  “I know, babe. We’ll get through this, together. I promise you. I think talking about it will help you. Maybe we can visit Spiller. I hear he’s home. He lives in Illinois. We could drive there in a few hours.”

  “I can’t bring you into this hell, Austyn. I won’t do it.”

  “That’s what you don’t understand. I’m already here. I’m living it with you every day. I just don’t know the details of why. You can push me away all you want, but I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Of course you’re not.” He says it like it’s the craziest thing he’s heard.

  “I wasn’t so sure,” I confess.

  He turns and wraps his arms around me. “What are you talking about?”

  “I wasn’t sure you still wanted me.” My voice is soft as fear grips my chest. Fear of his response to that statement. It’s something I’ve thought multiple times since he’s been home, but one I’ve just now been brave enough to speak aloud.

  His big hands cradle my face. His eyes, such a dark brown they often appear black, peer into mine. “You are everything. Do you hear me? Everything.”

  “Prove it,” I say. I’m terrified this will push him too far, but something has to give.

  “What do you mean, prove it?”

  “Make love to me.”

  His face softens. “Austyn.”

  “I think I know, at least a little.” I’m going out on a limb with my guess, but from the research I’ve done and the way he’s been acting, I think I have a good idea. “I think you feel guilty.”

  He scoffs.

  “I think you feel guilty that you survived and Jeffers didn’t. I think you feel guilty that you didn’t get to Spiller sooner.”

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” He drops his hands from my face and turns back toward the window.

  “You were all there, Slade. Spiller doesn’t blame you, and I can guarantee that Jeffers…” My voice cracks when I say his name. “If Jeffers were here, he would tell you to man the fuck up.”

  He’s silent.

  “You need to face this, Slade. I know you. I know that you’re not talking to the therapist like you should be. He’s there to help you. But in order to do that, you have to be open and honest. And me, I’m here for you. I’m standing right here.”

  He remains silent.

  “Look at me!” I shout at him. Slowly, he turns to face me. “I’m right here.” I poi
nt to my chest. “My heart breaks for you and all that you’ve been through. I know it was hell. I also know that you can’t keep it bottled up inside. It’s going to eat you alive, Slade. It’s going to tear us apart.”

  I see it now, the crack in his armor. Finally, if this is the angle I need to play, fine. Tough love and all that. “I’m losing you, slowly. Day by day, I’m losing the man I love, and it’s killing me, Slade Reeves. Killing me.” My tears fall unchecked down my face.

  “I love you, you know that.”

  I nod. “I know that, but is that enough? You’ve been up on your feet for a few weeks, yet you still only manage to give me chaste kisses.”

  “Excuse me, I’ve been learning how to walk again. Fucking you was not high on my list of priorities.”

  “It’s not just that. You kiss me, you tell me you love me, but it’s more of a routine than a feeling. You’ve closed yourself off. You won’t talk to me. Hell, you won’t talk to anyone. That’s no way for either of us to live.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying that I love you. You’re my heart, Slade. I love all of you, the broken pieces, the you that plays with my little brother, the you who spends time with my dad in the garage. The you who committed his life to the Marine Corp and came out battered and bruised because of it. The you who loves me like I’m the air he breathes. You spoiled me.” I laugh humorlessly. “You showed me what it’s like to be cherished, and I want that. All of it. If you can’t give me that, then I don’t exactly know where that leaves us.”

  “Austyn.” He reaches for me, but I step just out of his reach. I’m risking pushing him too far, I know this, but I don’t know what else to do. I’ve given him time and space. I know there is a chance he’s going to tell me that I’m no longer what he wants, and if that’s the outcome, I’ll have to learn to deal with it. However, if there’s a chance that he’s so lost in the forest that he can’t see the trees, maybe my confession will ignite him. Bring him back to me.

  “I know you’re hurting. I do. I’ve seen the hell your injuries have been, and my worst nightmare is the reality of what put you in this position. I also know you’re hurting and you can’t get through this darkness alone. You have to let me… hell, let anyone… someone help you. I need my Slade, my knight to come back to me.” I turn to leave the room.