Love Him Back

by Kris Nacole

  I could tell I’d struck a nerve when she froze after pulling her cream-colored shirt over her head. She threw her wrists up in the air. “How am I supposed to explain these bruises to the kids? And your parents? I think I have every right to find out why you would do something like this to me. This can’t happen again,” she said, grabbing a pillow off the bed and heading for the living room.

  “Where are you going?” I asked, following her down the hallway.

  She turned to look at me, her brows furrowed. “Back to sleep. I’m tired, and honestly, I don’t want to talk about this anymore. I need some space. I’ll sleep on the couch.”

  I dropped my head and sighed with frustration. “I’ll sleep on the couch, you can have the bed.”

  “Goodnight, Zane,” was all she said as she settled on the couch and closed her eyes.

  Feeling pissed off and guilty, I went back to bed. Hours later, I still couldn’t fall asleep. I stared at the ceiling, my mind was racing. Around six o’clock, I gave up and threw the sheet off of me. Dropping to the floor, I pumped out some pushups and sit-ups hoping I could tire myself into sleep. No such luck.

  Crawling back into bed, frustrated, my mind started to wander again.

  Tell me about it. Chesney’s shaky voice echoed in my mind.

  I didn’t want to talk about it. I was trying to forget about it, keep some of my sanity. Why couldn’t she understand that? There were many reasons I couldn’t tell her what had happened. What if I lost control while telling her about it? There was no way she could ever truly understand what I was feeling, so why bother? Why would I want to open up to someone who may judge me and pick apart my most vulnerable feelings? Why would I want to burden her and bring her bubbly personality down with my problems? I didn’t want anyone’s sympathy, I just wanted the nightmares to stop and to feel like my normal self again.

  Then again, how am I supposed to get back to normal?

  Maybe keeping this wall up would be better. Shutting her out. It would be easier that way. Then I wouldn’t have to feel the pain of losing her later.

  I knew I had to have another conversation with her when she woke up, and I knew it wouldn’t be easy, but if she decided to leave after what I had to say, I wouldn’t stop her.

  The next morning, I woke up to the smell of breakfast cooking and a loud clank of dishes, followed by a few curse words coming from Zane. I rubbed my eyes and then stretched and yawned. As I sat up on the couch, visions of last night crept back into my mind. I wished it was just a horrible nightmare, but it wasn’t. My wrists were sore and a little bruised, but not as bad as I’d originally thought they were going to be. A little makeup should cover them up.

  The thought of using makeup brought back so many memories of all the bruises I used to have to cover when Ian would beat me. There was no way in hell I was going to let history repeat itself, not for any man. I’d promised myself a long time ago that I wouldn’t be a victim anymore. I loved Zane with all my heart, but it wasn’t fair to me or the kids to be in another abusive relationship. Something had to give.

  “Good morning,” Zane said timidly, handing me a plate of breakfast and a glass of orange juice. My stomach grumbled as the smell of bacon and eggs wafted into my nose. “Please eat.” He sat on the other end of the couch and motioned to the plate of food. If I hadn’t been so hungry, I would’ve told him where he could shove the breakfast.

  Taking a sip of my orange juice, I closed my eyes and savored the tangy, cold liquid as it slid down my throat. Zane sat there, staring at me in an awkward silence as I took a bite of my bacon and eggs. I decided not to say anything to him because, frankly, after last night, I wasn’t sure what to say really. Part of me was so mad at him for what he’d done, but the other part of me felt sorry for him and wanted to comfort him in some way.

  Deployments were hard, I knew that. But did that really mean I wasn’t allowed to be upset with what he’d done to me? How had a weekend of bliss turn into a weekend of hell in less than twenty-four hours?

  “Chesney, I…” Zane started as he dropped his head and looked at the floor.

  I swallowed what I was chewing. “Zane, I love you, I really do, with all my heart. But what you did last night really hurt me, not only physically, but emotionally, too. I know you didn’t mean to, but you did.” I paused to take a steady breath. “Now you’re going to take me back to your parents’ room to pick up the kids. We’re going to pretend this never happened, and then I’m going to board a plane and the kids and I are heading home. You need to tie up loose ends here, and then you’re coming home. We’ll deal with it then because we sure as hell can’t do anything about it with me in North Carolina and you here.” With that, I stood up and headed to the kitchen. I’d suddenly lost my appetite.

  “Then stay here with me,” he blurted, sounding desperate. “Let’s work on us. We can’t leave things the way they are. The next few weeks will be hell if we part like this. My parents can take the kids back, and we can work through this together before we bring the kids into a broken relationship.”

  My back was still to him. I couldn’t look at him—see his pleading eyes. I set my plate on the counter so my shaky hands didn’t drop it.

  “If you decide to go, I won’t stop you. The choice is all yours,” he continued.

  “I can’t leave my kids for that long, not being in a different country.” I finally turned to face him.

  Standing from the couch, he slowly walked toward me. “Think about it, Chesney. If we part like this and then try throwing us all together as a family in a few weeks, we won’t make it.”

  I wrapped my arms around my body, contemplating what he was saying. He did have a point. Everyone always talked about homecomings and the joys they’d bring, but nobody ever warned me about how hard it was to work on relationships afterward.

  I loved the man standing before me; he was worth fighting for. My children needed a good strong man and influence in their lives, and I knew deep down Zane would never truly hurt me on purpose, ever.

  “I need to think about it. I really just want to go see my kids.” I brushed past him to go get ready.

  “Okay, fair enough,” he answered in a forlorn tone.

  Standing in the bathroom, I applied some foundation to my wrists where the bruises were. Luckily, I was such a master at it that I’d hidden them pretty well.

  “Are you covering your wrists with makeup?” Zane asked, walking up behind me.

  “Yep,” was all I said, too angry to say anything else.

  “Fuck, I’m so sorry,” he whispered, watching me. His eyes never left my wrists and a frown crossed his lips.

  All I could do was shake my head and let out a humorless laugh. “You know what, Zane? I’m so sick of hearing that. All anyone’s ever said to me is ‘I’m sorry’. I’m sorry this, I’m sorry that. I’m over it.” I took a deep breath. “I know you didn’t mean to hurt me, really, I do. But instead of saying you’re sorry, do something to show me you’re sorry. First, you can start by making me understand what happened. Tell me why you did this.” I held my wrists up in front of his face, giving him an opportunity. If he wanted me to stay here and work on things, he needed to be open. There was no way we could do this if he was going to remain closed off.

  Silence filled the room as he stared into my eyes. His lips were parted as if he wanted to speak, but nothing came out.

  I frowned and turned back around to face the mirror. Maybe I was fighting for nothing. Maybe he wasn’t fixable. “That’s what I thought. Take me to see my kids,” I said as I pushed around him to grab my bags and headed for the truck. “I’ll meet you outside.”

  I still couldn’t tell her, and I didn’t know why. I didn’t blame her for being angry. Hell, what I’d done was uncalled for. Unforgivable. I was such an asshole. I’d never put my hands on a woman to hurt her before. She’s the last person I’d ever want to hurt.

  And I wanted to tell her, especially in that moment while she stood there with her wrists in
the air, taunting me with the realization of the monster I’d become. Instead I stood there, mouth open, ready to speak, ready to say something, anything, but nothing came out. It was as if there was an invisible barrier between my mind and my mouth. The words just wouldn’t come out, no matter how much I’d wanted them to.

  I wanted to tell her about the deployment and about Jones. I thought of his wife and daughter as they’d went to collect his body and prepared for his burial. I’d missed the funeral because I was still in Afghanistan and that tore me up inside even more. I hadn’t been able to grieve or get any closure with Jones, and I wasn’t sure I ever would.

  Being back in England wasn’t the same. None of my friends were here. They’d already gotten out of the Air Force or moved on to another base. The one person I really wished I could talk to was Erik. He had always helped me when I was confused. Sometimes I’d swear he knew me better than I knew myself. He was my brother, my protector, and he never sugarcoated anything. I’d have to send him a message online later, since I couldn’t call him. He was deployed, and I hadn’t gotten to speak with him as much as I normally did.

  Zane came out of the house a few minutes later, looking broken and defeated. I didn’t like that I was causing him to feel this way, but I didn’t know how else to react. I still loved him, with all my heart, but I had so many doubts and questions. No, he wasn’t Ian, and he wasn’t even like Chase. I knew that. But what if he did it again? And what if he hurt me worse the next time? What if my kids were around when he lost control?

  If he wasn’t going to share with me what was wrong with him or seek help, I didn’t know what else I could do.

  He opened the door and stepped up into the truck. Neither of us looked at each other or said anything. It was an awkward silence that I didn’t like. Luckily, the hotel wasn’t too far away.

  I didn’t like the vibe between us. It was gloomy and depressing.

  As we drove, I glanced over at Zane, and his jaw tightened. He gripped the steering wheel tightly. I could tell he was stuck in limbo between wanting to say something, and being afraid to say the wrong thing if he did.

  We pulled up to the hotel and the kids came barreling out the door to meet us. I held my arms out, ready to hug them, but to my utter shock, both Dylan and Alayna ran into Zane’s arms first. An involuntary gasp left my throat as I watched them wrap their arms around his leg and waist. Zane bent down and hugged them back.

  “We missed you,” Alayna said.

  “I missed you guys, too,” Zane said, pulling on Alayna’s ponytail and then running his hand back and forth over Dylan’s hair.

  “We missed you, too, Mommy,” Alayna said, hugging me.

  Finally.

  Zane looked at me, regret in his eyes once again. He dropped his head and turned to go inside. Once inside, I asked Zane’s dad if I could borrow his laptop and went into the extra bedroom and closed the door behind me. Opening up an internet tab, I logged into my social media account and found Erik’s name on the contact list; then, I sent him a quick note. He was deployed, and I wasn’t sure which shift he was working to know if he’d even be awake or by a computer. The time difference was hard to keep up with. I had to give it a shot though.

  Hey! Are you awake? I really need you right now. More than ever. Please respond as soon as you get this.

  My cursor hovered over the send button, and then I clicked on it. Sitting there, I stared at the computer screen, refreshing the page every second, just waiting and hoping for a reply.

  Ugh, this is ridiculous. Of course he was busy or maybe it was too late there, or maybe he was out on a mission. But just as I started to close down the computer, a notification popped up.

  Thank you, Jesus!

  Erik: I’m here. What’s up?

  Me: I’m kind of freaking out. Something happened. Something really bad, and I’m not sure what to do.

  Erik: What is it? Are you and the kids okay?

  Me: Yes, we’re fine. Well, the kids are anyway. I went to Zane’s homecoming, everything was wonderful. We had dinner with his parents and the kids, made love more times than I can count, and it was pure bliss…

  Erik: Okay, first, TMI and second, why is that a problem?

  Me: Well, everything was wonderful until we fell asleep. He was having a bad dream or something, so I tried to wake him. He pulled me down onto the bed, trapped my wrists below his hands, and looked like he was going to kill me. He says he doesn’t remember any of it, but his eyes were open the whole time. They didn’t look like his eyes, though, they were cold and dark.

  I shivered as I typed those last words. Remembering the way he’d looked on top of me, holding me down like that.

  Erik: First off, I’m sorry that happened to you, Ches. Second, he just got home from a deployment. Some of the guys are talking over here because one of the guys I work with is friends with Zane. He said some pretty awful shit happened to Zane while he was in Afghanistan. I hate to tell you this, but it sounds like it could be PTSD…

  PTSD—Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. My stomach sank.

  Could he? It all makes sense now. Why didn’t I think of that sooner? A part of me knew all along, but I didn’t want to admit it.

  I felt sick as I thought about how much he must be hurting inside. So something had happened to him over there, and he wasn’t sharing it? What was it?

  Erik: Listen, I’m no expert, but what I do know is that you’re never supposed to wake someone up with PTSD when they’re having flashbacks. That’s probably what was happening to him. He probably wasn’t having a bad dream, he was reliving what happened to him over there. When you woke him up, it scared him and he reacted the way he did. PTSD is no joke. It really changes a person and can throw their entire life off balance. Do your research before you approach him again, okay? Don’t push him to talk to you, either. Let him know you’re there for him when he’s ready.

  Me: Erik, I love you! It all makes sense now. I kind of wondered if PTSD was a factor, but I wasn’t sure. I’ve been so mean to him since that happened last night. I couldn’t help it, though. I was just so angry. We literally went from making love, to him hurting me within a couple of hours. It was intense, and for the first time, I was scared of him.

  Erik: You have to learn how to deal with his symptoms in order to help him through this. Good luck. I have to go now, sorry. Keep me updated. Bye for now. Be cautious.

  Me: Bye, Erik. Thanks again. I’m going to fight like hell to get back the Zane I know and love.

  I opened another browsing window, typed in PTSD, and was overwhelmed by the pages that popped up. Articles about support groups, signs and symptoms, how to deal with a loved one who was suffering from it, and the list went on. Flipping through one page, and then another, and another, I absorbed as much information as I could in a small amount of time.

  “Chesney, are you okay, honey?” Julia said as she walked into the room.

  I grabbed the top of the laptop and closed it slightly, trying to hide what I was researching. “Yeah, I’m fine. Sorry, I just had to catch up on some quick emails,” I lied, plastering on a fake smile.

  “What happened here?” She pulled my hand into hers, inspecting my wrists.

  “Umm, nothing…It’s nothing,” I said nervously. Maybe I hadn’t covered the bruises as good as I’d thought.

  She studied me for a moment. Then she went over to shut the door and came to sit on the bed beside me. “Honey, it makes me sick to even ask you this, but did Zane do this to you?” she asked with pained eyes.

  Should I lie to her and tell her no? Or should I tell her the truth? That her son hurt me even if it wasn’t his fault.

  “It’s okay, you can talk to me,” she insisted. “It’ll stay between us, I promise.” In a motherly gesture, she brushed my long hair over my shoulder.

  I blinked back tears. I was about to break her heart. “Yes, but please, you can’t say anything. He didn’t mean to hurt me.” Those words were eerily similar to the lies I’d told my mo
ther when she’d found out Ian was beating me.

  This is different. He is not Ian.

  She leaned in and gave me a quick hug. “Oh, honey, what happened? Are you okay?”

  I cleared my throat, speaking softly. “I tried to wake him up. He was having a bad dream, and he attacked me.”

  She nodded, exhaling a heavy breath through her nose. “I was afraid of something like this. That boy has been deployed so many times, it was only a matter of time until he ended up with PTSD. I knew it after the incident in the kitchen,” she said matter-of-factly, a flash of sadness washing over her pale-blue eyes.

  So she’d had her suspicions? “Why didn’t I see it before?” I sighed. “I mean, you knew right way. I didn’t realize it until ten minutes ago.” I was so angry and disappointed in myself for not connecting the dots immediately.

  “Sweetie listen.” She patted my arm. “Before Jake retired, he had been deployed thirteen times. He’s seen a lot of crazy stuff over the years, and to this day, he still has to deal with PTSD. It’s not nearly as bad as before, though. It’s manageable, and he gets stronger with each passing day,” she said with tears in her eyes. “It takes a strong person to stand by someone suffering from PTSD. He will need you now more than ever. Even if he says he doesn’t. Please don’t give up on him. I can help you along the way if you need me.” She grabbed my hand. “The biggest thing you need to remember is to not pressure him into anything. Let him come to you and think it’s his idea. He’ll talk when he’s ready. But you still need to make sure you stay safe, in case he has any setbacks,” she continued pointedly. “Make sure you watch him, study his moods and movements, and know what to do if he starts to lose control.”

  I practically threw myself in her lap, hugging her neck hard.

  “Be strong. You’ve got this,” she whispered, hugging me tight.

  “Thank you so much. I feel a lot better knowing I’m not alone,” I said, wiping away a few tears that had escaped.

  She started toward the door.