Of course, the guilt won’t have time to consume my flesh like burning flames, because if Knox got to Jake, then my time is ticking down. I’ll be dead by morning. Or whenever he’s finally done “punishing me”.
Headlights pour through the window and wash the bedroom wall with white light. I can hear the rubber tires of a car slowly pull into the driveway. I grip the handle of the knife I pilfered from the kitchen and tiptoe over to the side of the window, peering out through the side of the blinds.
It’s not Jake’s car. My heart sinks and the lump I’ve been trying to swallow all day grows even larger in my throat. It’s a cab.
Fuck.
I watch in horror as a shadowy shape slides out of the back seat and slams the door shut. Would Knox show up here in a taxi, to kill me? I did steal his car, but I can’t imagine him not replacing it. Unless he’s trying to keep his attack anonymous from the suburban busy bodies. It’s a lot harder to identify a man arriving in the middle of the night in a taxi than in a tricked-out Escalade.
I lunge away from the window and twist my neck as I search the room for a place to hide. Under the bed? No, I can’t use my knife if I’m wedged under there. The closet? Maybe.
I can hear a clash of keys fall on the front steps and the intruder groan as he picks them up. How did Knox get a key? It shouldn’t surprise me that he managed. I’ve seen the lengths he’s gone to just to track down men who’ve tried to screw him out of cash. He would brag to me about how he found them, how he finished them himself, so people would hear of it and know not to fuck with him. He took a lot of pride in winning the game of cat and mouse, and even more pride in slowly, painfully extracting his revenge.
That was just about money. I shot him in the leg, stole his car, took his hidden stash of cash and left a man who thought he owned my body. No, not just my body. My soul.
The front door creaks open and someone stomps inside, bumping up against the counter and thumping into the wall.
Fuck.
It has to be Knox. Jake wouldn’t be crashing around his own place. He knows where the fucking counter is in his own kitchen. I leap across the bedroom floor on my tiptoes and try to contain the screams of terror welling up inside me as I stand behind the door. At least here, if he comes in the room, I can try to escape. If I lock myself in a closet, it’s too easy for him to grab me. To control me. Like he always has.
Did he kill Jake?
Tears spring to my eyes for the thousandth time today. My hands tremble as I twist my fingers around the hilt of the knife and listen.
“Hey! Holly? Anyone ho-ome?” He calls out as he thumps down the hallway, with the grace of a stampeding bull. His body thuds against the wall and my mind reels. That’s not Knox’s voice. Not unless he’s trying to disguise it. I know I haven’t heard him speak in over two months, but I will never forget the voice of evil.
“Hey! Holly!” The doorknob rattles and my mind spins out of control. Did he send someone else to bring me to him?
As the bedroom door squeaks open, I push all thoughts from my mind. It’s not time to think. It’s time to do.
I raise the knife over my head, prepared to sink it into the throat of whoever Knox has sent to find me. The door flies open and a man trips into the room and falls to the floor and I scream.
“Holly? What the fuck!” He yells, staring up at me with his familiar, deep blue eyes. “What are you doing with that knife?”
Lying on the floor, at my feet, isn’t Knox. It isn’t anyone sent by him either. Instead, it’s the man I love. I lower the knife and tears slide down my face. Jake is home. The man I’ve been terrified was left for dead. The man who was supposed to come back to me hours and hours ago. The man who promised me he’d keep me safe, he’s finally here.
And he’s drunk.
31|Holly
“Jesus, Holly, what are you doing?” Jake sits up and manages to get his wobbly legs back under him. I don’t answer him, all of my emotions are spilling down my cheeks as my body is drained of energy. I drop the knife I’ve been clinging to all day to the floor, and my shoulders slump forward.
“What’s going on?” Jake presses me. The heat of his boozy breath erupting over me like lava, rooting me to the spot with a horrified look etched to my face.
“You’re drunk,” I glance up at him.
“I’m not drunk, I had a few drinks,” he frowns at me. “Why the fuck are you hiding in the bedroom, trying to attack me with a knife?” He accuses me.
“I wasn’t going to attack you,” my eyelids are heavy. It’s too much. Today has been too much and I can feel myself shutting down.
“That’s not what it looked like to me,” Jake points to the knife on the floor. “What did you think you were gonna do with that, huh?” The edge in his voice grows sharp. “I come back to my own fucking house, a house I let you stay in, and you try to assault me?” He sways like a strong gust of wind is attacking him.
“Jake, I can’t do this right now. Not when you’re like this. I just… I fucking can’t.” I wipe the tears from my cheeks and start to turn away.
“Don’t walk away from me,” Jake circles his broad hand over my wrist and I instinctively raise my arm to cover my face. Like a dog cowering in a corner.
“Don’t,” I cry out.
Shame washes over me as I watch the mixed emotions on Jake’s face. He drops my arm and steps back as hurt wins the battle, making him wince like I really did cut him with the knife. “I’m not him, Holly.” His voice is cool. “I wasn’t going to hurt you.”
“You already did,” anger wells up inside me as it hits me that he’s been out relapsing for the past six hours while I’ve been living a nightmare. “You left me here, when Knox is trying to get me, you didn’t call, I didn’t know where you were, and what were you doing? Getting hammered? Are you fucking kidding me? Did you get high too?” I can’t contain my anger. My betrayal.
“High? No, of course not. Why are you freaking out? I just had a few drinks,” he lies. I can see from his glassy eyes and flushed face that he’s had more than a few. “What the fuck is your problem? You know you’re safe here, you don’t have to freak out just because I’m a little late coming home. Why do you have a knife? It doesn’t make any fucking sense,” he rubs his temples.
“Keep me safe? That’s a fucking joke, right? Guess what, Jake,” my voice is shrill, and I feel myself teetering on the edge of my sanity, “he found me. He took a fucking picture of us at the grocery store and e-mailed it to me.” I point down the hallway.
“What?” Jake blinks blankly.
“Knox knows where I am. He knows I’m with you. You told me you’d keep me safe. What a fucking joke! The first day you go back to work you take off for hours, don’t call me, don’t answer my calls and get drunk? And I’m supposed to feel safe?” I throw my hands in the air. “How the fuck are you supposed to keep me safe when you can’t even look after yourself?” I may not have attacked him with the knife, but I can see my words pierce his heart.
Jake runs his flat palms over his face and then back through his hair. “You’re right,” he sighs and drops his head. “You’re fucking right, I haven’t kept my word. And now that son-of-a-bitch knows where you are. Fuck!” He cracks his fist into the doorframe with a sickening thud.
“Why did you go out after work instead of coming home? Why didn’t you call me?” My voice is steady despite how weak I feel right now.
“It’s,” he runs his red hand over the back of his neck and drops his gaze to the floor, “it’s complicated,” he mumbles.
“It doesn’t look that way from where I’m standing. Looks like you wanted to get fucked up.” I set my jaw, determined not to feel sorry for whatever lame excuse he’s going to toss my way for his piss-poor decision. Literally, the first chance he gets, he fucks off and chooses a night of drinking over me. Over his sobriety? Nothing about that sounds complicated. It just sounds pathetic. My thoughts trickle through me, burning me like acid as anger wells up inside.
>
“I did want to get fucked up, I needed to get some distance.”
“From me? What the fuck?” I yell.
“Not from you, from the fucking images in my head. Ok? I went to work and they want to send me on deployment again. I can’t do it. I can’t go back, I still can’t stop dreaming about the last time. Every fucking night, it’s the same dream!” He shakes his head like a dog flicking off the rain. Like he’s trying to fling the thoughts from his brain.
“What are you talking about?” I watch him carefully, feeling myself soften.
Jake looks up at me, tears lining his eyes and my heart breaks as one falls over onto his cheek. “I can’t stay in the military anymore, I can’t do it. I need help, Holly. Rehab wasn’t enough, it didn’t make the dreams stop. It wasn’t enough.” His voice cracks and I close the distance between us, throwing my arms around him.
“What are you talking about? What happened, Jake?”
He slumps over in my arms, “I can’t do another deployment. Not after the last one. I don’t want to do this anymore.” Another tear falls down his face and worry swirls in my gut.
“Jake, please, tell me what’s wrong,” I beg.
“Holly, my last mission was a success, I got a medal. A fucking medal,” he shakes his head. “And a lifetime of nightmares. Cause when we took out one of the top leaders of the Taliban the fucking coward armed his boys. His fucking kids.” Jake’s voice breaks and he clenches his jaw as tears trail slowly down into his beard. “It was me or him, but I can’t stop seeing it. I can’t stop hearing it. I know I had no choice, I know that.” He shakes his head slowly from side to side and closes his eyes. “I had no choice, but it doesn’t matter cause now I’m all fucked up and I can’t get it out of my head,” he hits his balled-up hand against his forehead.
“Jake,” my throat hurts and I hold him. I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what to ask. I’m not sure I want to know. I had no idea he’s been living with this horrible burden all this time. Guilt swirls inside me as I realize that I just assumed all this time that Jake was in because he liked to party. I never bothered to find out about the pain he’s lived with all this time. The pain that he carries with him every day.
“I shot him,” he whispers, “I killed a little boy over there. A fucking kid. He had a loaded gun, and he was going to shoot me,” he doesn’t open his eyes as he explains.
“Then you had no choice!” I run my hands over his shoulders.
“It doesn’t matter though. I wish he would’ve killed me instead. Instead of me reliving the hell every night. Seeing it over and over. I can’t… I just can’t do it anymore. I can’t stay in the SEALs. I can’t do another deployment. I just want to get my head straight and live a peaceful life. With you. If you’ll still have me,” he finally opens his eyes and I look up into the pain sweeping behind the intense blue. How have I never noticed it before?
“Of course. We’ll get through this, together. Together,” I lean into him and he wraps his arms around me.
Somehow, we’ll get through it all. As long as we’re together.
32|Jake
Pulling air deep into my lungs, I walk down the hall to my chief’s office. My guts are rolling up inside me like a nest of snakes. Nerves. They’re getting to me.
I remember when I was an ambitious eighteen-year-old with more balls than brains and a burning desire in my belly to prove myself. The military was always my plan, but the SEALs, that was my dream. I didn’t want to be a run-of-the-mill ground pounder. My father and my big brother had already blazed that path. I didn’t want to get lost in their shadows, and a world renowned elite force like the SEALs doesn’t sit in anyone’s shade.
My hand twitches and I give it a shake before balling it up and knocking on my chief’s door. This is it.
The door slides away from me as he opens it. “Armstrong? What is it?” He looks over my shoulder to see if there’s some kind of explanation for my interruption of his day.
“Chief,” I clear my throat like I did when I was a teenager and I didn’t want my voice to betray me by cracking when I talked to a girl. “Do you have a minute?”
He looks me over, his eyebrows scrunching together with concern and then steps back, opening a path to his desk. “Of course, come in,” he closes the door behind me and takes a seat. “Sit your ass down, Armstrong and spill it,” he nods at the empty seat across from him. “I haven’t got all day,” his usual gruff tone returns.
I smile and do as I’m told. His salty sailor routine hasn’t got me fooled. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not stupid enough to go flapping my gums about it, but I know Chief Warrant Officer Andrews well enough to see that he has a good heart under his crusty shell.
“Well, are you gonna sit there smirking at me? Or did you have something you wanted to talk about?”
I puff up my chest, willing the words on the tip of my tongue to spill from my mouth. This is harder than I thought it would be. My mind flashes to last night, lying in bed with Holly.
“Come to the wedding with me. Come to Florida,” I urged her.
“What about Knox?”
“He already knows you’re here. You’re safer with me. Come with me and I’ll keep you safe.” I continued.
I didn’t tell her the other reason I wanted her to. The selfish reason. The one that had nothing to do with Knox, or the wedding, or any of that. That I couldn’t stand the idea of being away from her.
I realize now, that the feeling I once had for the SEALs, it’s hers now. She has my heart. My mind. My soul. I breathe for her.
She was quiet for so long, I thought she fell asleep. Finally, she answered, “Yes. I’ll go. But, I need to do one thing.”
“What’s that?” I asked.
“I need to see my parents.”
I give my head a shake and ground myself into the present moment. Holly’s soft, beautiful face evaporates and instead, my chief’s deeply etched, angry skin fills my vision.
“Sorry, I, uh, I guess I’m a bit nervous,” I confess.
The Chief’s face doesn’t change; his lips barely move as he tells me to get on with it.
“I wanted to let you know that I’ve decided not to re-up when my contract expires. I won’t be signing the next one, I’m leaving the SEALs.” I look down at my hands. I can’t handle the mixture of surprise and hint of betrayal spreading across his face.
“You’re leaving? Your re-enlistment is coming, when?”
“In two months,” I fill in the blank for him.
“In two months,” he echoes back, his voice void of emotion. I can feel his hard stare, it’s impossible to avoid. “You want to explain to me what the hell this is about?” Andrews tilts his head.
I squirm in my seat a bit, “It’s a lot of things.” I meet his penetrating gaze, forcing myself to lay all the cards on the table. “I’m having problems sleeping. I have nightmares, all the time. I want to get help for that,” I start.
“Well, that’s nothing new around here. We can get you that help,” he cuts in.
“It’s more than that. I met someone. I love her, and I realize that my heart’s not in this anymore. I want to get my head straight and be the best man I can for her. And that includes actually being there for her. I know, even if I get these dreams under control, I’ll still be gone all the time. At a moment’s notice, I’ll be walking out of her life. Never knowing when I’m going to walk back in it. I can’t do it.” I confess.
A twinkle shines in Chief Warrant Officer Andrews’ eyes and he leans back in his chair, “A girl, huh? You’re going to throw away your career, everything you built up for yourself, for a woman?” He squints his eyes at me.
“Yes. I am, Chief.”
I watch as he twists back and forth in his chair, chewing on what I just told him. “Listen, Armstrong, I get it. Ok? We’ve all been there. This hasn’t been your year, you know. You had your Captain’s Mast, you went off to rehab, and now you’ve got a head full of treatment and a heart full of lust
.”
He shuffles a bunch of folders on his desk, searching for something. Plucking a sheet of paper from one, leaning forward, he thrusts it over to me. “Look, your leave pass is approved to go to your brother’s wedding, ok? How about you go see your family, and think about this some more. Make damned sure that this isn’t just some leftover crisis from the shit year you’ve had, ok?”
I look from the stamped leave pass to his wrinkled face and nod. “I will. I’ll make sure, but I know my mind won’t change.” I stare into his brown eyes.
“You sound pretty confident, but just make sure. You know, once you’re out, you won’t be getting back in with us.”
“I know.”
Chief Andrews relaxes back into his seat and smiles, “All right. You sound pretty sure of yourself, so I will say one thing. Take it from someone who’s sitting on the other side of their career from where you are, there’s only room for one.”
“Chief?” I wait for him to explain.
“You can be married to a woman who steals your heart, or the SEALs. Both never work together. Take it from me, I’ve found three different women who were crazy enough to walk down the aisle with me, and not one of them stuck.”
I look down at the paper in my hands, “Ok. Thanks, Chief.” I stand up to leave.
“Oh, and Armstrong?”
“Yes,” I turn back to face him.
“Take it from someone who thought he found ‘the one’ three times; make damned sure you’re doing the right thing. I’d hate to see you throw it all away just to end up with a lifetime of regrets,” he answers.
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