Breaking Free

by Teresa J. Reasor

Brett tossed the remote control onto the coffee table. “I can’t stand this one minute longer, Zoe.”

  Zoe drew a deep breath. She didn’t want to go where he was leading the conversation. She had to get him out of the house or he’d explode and she’d have to respond to that and she’d end up in tears. They’d both end up feeling bad. “Why don’t we go for a drive? We’ll go to the beach and you can get some sun.”

  “God damn it! It’s been two days, Zo.” He rubbed his hand over his head, roughing up his fine blond hair and then fingering the scar on his scalp left from the surgery.

  “Tell me where you want to go, Brett, and I’ll drive you.”

  “It isn’t that. It isn’t about that. It’s about you. I love you. You know I do. And Hawk is one of the best friends I’ve ever had. But seeing you like this, watching you pace the floors and--grieve--”

  Zoe slumped into one of the dark blue chairs. Worry weighed on her like an anchor, dragging her down, and draining her reserves. She’d tried to hide the worst of it from him, but evidently she’d wasted her time, he knew her too well.

  “Do you think it’s any easier when it’s you, Brett?”

  “Jesus, Zo. I don’t want to hear about it. If you tell me, I’ll think about it and it will make it--We try not to think about how you guys feel. Hell, how we feel. If we did, we wouldn’t be able to do what we do.”

  “Compartmentalize.” The word sounded so cold. Hawk and her brother were anything but that.

  “Yeah. Thinking too much can get you killed.”

  Doc’s agony over his girlfriend and what he’d viewed as his failure came to mind. “I hope Hawk doesn’t think of me for even a moment then.”

  A frown creased his forehead and bracketed his mouth. “You always said you’d never marry a guy in uniform.”

  “Things change when you care about someone.”

  “Jesus, it’s weird. You slept with my boss. What were you thinking, Zoe?”

  That I’d finally found someone who could love me despite my flaws and imperfections. Brett’s deprecating tone made what they’d had sound cheap. Hot color stormed her cheeks and her anger ignited. “Are you being an asshole because you’re upset about that, or because you’re bored and just want a fight?”

  His mouth fell open then he laughed. He leaned back and tilted his head back against the top of the chair. “All right-all right. I’m bored out of my skull.” He rubbed the top of his head again, making his hair stand up. “But it’s more than that and you know it.” His brows furrowed. “I should be with them, Zo.”

  “You will be soon.” She picked up the stack of photos with labels stuck to the back. “Let’s work on your cards,” she suggested. She had been over the photos so many times she could recite the names of the weapons in the pictures herself. Learning about the weapons and equipment had helped alleviate some of her anxiety.

  She held up the first one.

  “Nine millimeter Sig Sauer handgun,” Brett said.

  She raised the next one.

  “Closed Circuit Daegar UBA.”

  Reaching the twenty-fifth card she paused as he hit a blank spot. Zoe watched as his eyes narrowed in concentration.

  “M-m-m 88 sniper rifle,” he said. He looked away but not before she saw the fear in his eyes.

  “What does UBA stand for?” she asked so he wouldn’t have time to dwell on the stumble.

  “Underwater Breathing Apparatus.” He shot her an impatient look. “Don’t humor me, Zo.”

  “I’m not. I just think you should concentrate on how much you’ve accomplished in the three weeks you’ve been out of the coma and not dwell on these little glitches. Think of your brain as a computer. And you’re running a program that still has a few bugs to work out.”

  His jaw tightened. “Bugs huh?”

  “That sounds creepy, doesn’t it? Bugs in your brain,” Zoe wrinkled her nose. ”Ewww--”

  Brett rose and moved to the couch to sit next to her. “I know I’m being a pain the ass. I just can’t seem to get past this. And not being able to remember what happened doesn’t help any.”

  From her own experience, it was better that he couldn’t remember. Especially if it had been, in some part, caused by one of his teammates. “Lots of people don’t remember the moment they suffer a trauma, Brett. It wouldn’t help you heal any faster even if you could.” She stacked up the cards and set them aside.

  Brett laid a hand on her arm, and she glanced up. A look passed between them and she knew he was remembering the flashbacks and nightmares she had suffered. She returned to their conversation. “Maybe the doctor will release you to take a class on post. You could take one you’ve already aced and review, and test yourself. You only seem to have problems with picture identification. You know what each thing is used for and how to use it. You just stumble over the name. That will come back once you’ve imprinted that information back into your memory.”

  “I suppose so. I just can’t afford for this thing to linger on, Zo. I need to be on top of things so I can return to my unit.”

  He put his arm around her shoulders. She leaned into him and hugged him tight.

  Even after being in a coma, he wanted to go back. Why? Why would he want to put himself in harm’s way again?

  She wanted him to get better, but if he got better he’d be sent back overseas. If he didn’t get better he’d lose a part of himself, a sense of his worth. She’d felt less than worthy for so long. She didn’t want that for her brother.

  He had to make his own way, whether it put him in danger or not. She had to accept his decisions, just as she had to accept Hawk’s. “I understand,” she murmured her arms tightening around him. Pain sparked a need for Brett’s comfort, as much as he needed hers.

  “I know you do. I’m sorry I’m being a pain in the ass.” Brett brushed her forehead with a brotherly kiss and gave her a squeeze. “How about you take me to the base so I can do some target practice? Maybe I’ll work off some of the mad I’ve got going if I shoot something.”

  There was only so much she could do for him. He had to work things out for himself. And shooting wasn’t so physically taxing he’d wear himself out. “All right. Call the base and schedule it and I’ll take you.”

  An hour later, Zoe pulled into the parking lot he directed her to in front of the shooting range. Brett got out and she dipped her head to watch him as he walked around the car and paused at the driver’s window.

  “I’m trusting you with my baby,” he teased as he patted the side of the candy apple red Mustang.

  Zoe rolled her eyes. “Men and their toys. Call me when you need a ride home.”

  “I may be able to catch a ride. I’ll call you and let you know.”

  “I’d rather you called me, Brett.”

  A smile crept across his face. “All right, Mom.” Shaking his head he turned and walked down the concrete sidewalk toward a group of buildings, a navy blue gym bag swinging in his grip.

  Zoe turned to back the car out and her cell phone rang. She put the car back in park and rifled through her purse for the phone.

  “Hey, Zoe,” Marjorie’s voice came across sounding strained. “Would you have time to meet me for lunch?”

  “Sure, I can do that. I’m on North Island and it might take a few minutes. Where would you like to eat?”

  “I’ll meet you half way.” Marjorie named a seafood restaurant close by. Zoe grabbed a notepad from her purse and wrote down the directions.

  It took only fifteen minutes to reach the place. It was early and the restaurant had plenty of empty tables. Zoe paused at the hostess’s desk to allow her eyes to adjust to the change in light. Marjorie, her face partially obscured by sunglasses, rose from her seat in the corner and motioned to her.

  A sinking sensation struck her midriff. Something had happened.

  A waitress preceded Zoe to the table and, after she was seated, gave her a menu.

  “Thank you for coming, Zoe.” Marjorie’s hands shook as she rearranged the
candle, a glass dish lined with packets of sweetener, and the salt and peppershakers.

  “I just dropped Brett off at the base, so I was free.”

  “I’m leaving Derrick.”

  Relief and sadness tangled together inside Zoe and she reached for Marjorie’s hand. “He’s hit you again, hasn’t he?”

  “Yes.” Marjorie’s hands clenched into fists on the tabletop.

  “I’m so sorry. Do you need me to take you to a doctor?”

  “No, I just--I need--“ Her lips trembled and it was several moment before she regained her composure. She clung to Zoe’s hand, her grip almost painful.

  “I’m afraid to go home and get my things,” she said.

  Why would she be afraid, he was gone wasn’t he? “He shipped out yesterday with his unit, didn’t he?”

  “Yes, but he came home sometime this morning. It was some kind of homeland security thing he couldn’t tell me about. They flew back this morning.”

  Why hadn’t Hawk called her? Was something wrong? Zoe’s anxiety spiked and she bit her lip. She dragged her attention back to Marjorie when she spoke.

  “I went over to a girlfriend’s house to spend the night. I was upset about him going wheels up.” Marjorie’s lips quivered. “When he came home and I wasn’t there--He met me at the door when I came in at eight to get ready for work--”

  “You don’t need to go back to the apartment without police protection. I know you don’t want to report this, but you really need to take out a restraining order and have him picked up, just to be sure. The police will call Derrick’s commanding officer and have him detained there if he’s on post.”

  Marjorie nodded. “Will you come with me?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “I love him so much, Zoe. But I’ve been so afraid.”

  Zoe moved to sit next to Marjorie and placed an arm around her. Marjorie trembled against her. Anger built inside Zoe in a wave. Damn Derrick Armstrong for doing this. “You don’t have to be afraid anymore. Do you think you can eat something, or would you rather go to the police station now?”

  “I don’t think I could eat anything. You’ll stay with me, won’t you?”

  The fear in the woman’s voice, the way she trembled, triggered feelings of pity and protectiveness. “Yes, I will.”

  The waitress returned with filled water glasses to take their order just as she and Marjorie got to their feet.

  “My friend is feeling ill and we’re going to have to leave,” Zoe said.

  “Oh. I’m sorry. Is there anything I can do to help?”

  “No, we’ll be okay.”

  Zoe gathered her purse from the back of her chair and slung it over her shoulder. She looped her arm through Marjorie’s and guided her out of the restaurant. “You can leave your car here in the parking lot. We’ll come back for it after we go to the police station.”

  “All right.” Marjorie began to cry. Zoe hunted for some tissue in her purse and handed it to her. She got Marjorie settled in the car and went around and got in. Murmuring words of encouragement and comfort, she pulled into traffic and turned onto Broadway where she knew police headquarters was located.