Trusting a Warrior

by Melanie Hansen

  He raised an eyebrow. “That the phone works both ways?”

  “Yes!” She punched him on the arm in her enthusiasm. “If they won’t call me, maybe I should try calling them, right? So I screwed up my courage and called this one girl, asked if she wanted to go to dinner sometime. Not only did she say yes, she brought a bunch of our other friends with her!”

  “Oh, wow, that’s great.”

  “We totally cleared the air. I mean, their husbands still have to work with Rhys, so they felt caught in the middle. No one knew what to say to me, or how to act, so they told me it seemed easier just to drift away.” She shrugged. “I get it. It was pretty much the same when Tyler died. Hardly anyone stuck around.”

  At those words, the spasm of pain that crossed Geo’s face made her reach out to touch his shoulder, but before she could say anything, he spun away and snatched up the coffee carafe. “Gotta finish this,” he muttered. “’Scuse me.”

  Lani moved aside so he could fill the carafe with water, then turned back to her own task.

  Geez. Getting this dude to open up was like pulling teeth.

  She sensed he needed to, though—that he wanted to. She also knew damn good and well what these guys were like. Vulnerability had no place in their world. They’d die before admitting any sort of weakness, their ability to push past their limits honed to an art form.

  With all that in mind, she resolved to be patient.

  When the cheesecake was plated, sliced strawberries scattered over the top, she carried it all into the living room and switched on the TV. After a moment he joined her, mug of steaming coffee in hand, and they ate their cheesecake accompanied by the laugh track to an episode of Friends.

  Geo still didn’t speak, although he seemed to enjoy the dessert. Lani took their empty plates to the sink and, returning to the living room, propped her feet firmly on the coffee table. “Go on. Get comfortable,” she ordered. “Feet on the furniture, unbutton your pants, rip a giant belch, whatever.”

  He rolled his eyes, but he pried off his sneakers and crossed his socked feet next to hers. Delighted with her small victory, she nudged his toes. He nudged her back, setting off a mini foot war, which ended with Geo’s big toe caressing her instep in surrender.

  At the touch, she shivered, nipples tightening, goose bumps springing up everywhere. She glanced at Geo to see if he noticed, but he just sighed and sank back into the couch, coffee mug resting on his stomach. As the Friends episode ended and the next one started, his eyes drifted shut, his breathing going long and slow.

  Lani rescued the mug just in time, a lump rising into her throat.

  I wish you could talk to me, she said to him silently. I wish you could let yourself trust me. Whatever it is, I’m here.

  Even as she watched, he startled himself awake with a snore, so she took a chance. Grabbing up a small throw pillow, she put it on her thigh and urged him to lie down.

  Blearily he did, head on the pillow, one leg crooked against the back of the couch, the other one stretched out, foot on the floor. She stroked his hair, which was soft and springy. She was combing her fingers through it, sifting it gently, when suddenly he murmured, “No wonder Bosch likes this so much.”

  “Whoops.” She gave a self-conscious giggle, hand stilling. “I guess I am sort of petting you, aren’t I?”

  “Yeah. But don’t stop,” he said hoarsely, his voice a tiny bit ragged. “Please.”

  “I won’t.” Her eyes stinging, she ran her thumb lightly over his forehead, fingers delving back into his hair. “I won’t. Shhh. Go back to sleep.”

  It’s okay to trust me, Geo. It’s okay to let me in.

  When his body finally went limp and he let out another soft snore, she couldn’t help but smile.

  She’d take it.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Something tickled Geo’s nose.

  He waved it away, only for it to reappear on his forehead. A damn fly. God, he hated the barracks.

  Yawning, he cracked open his eyes, but instead of drab white walls and industrial furnishings, the soft light coming in through the windows revealed pictures scattered everywhere, a floor lamp with a funky shade...

  “Oh, shit!” Awareness returned in an instant, and he jackknifed to sitting, the blanket covering him dropping to the floor.

  Lani’s apartment. Jesus, he fell asleep on her!

  With a loud groan, he flopped back down on the couch. Fucking hell, he was such a tool. Not only had he shown up uninvited, he’d probably scared her the way he’d been lurking in the dark like that. Then after she’d graciously asked him in, he’d eaten her food, refused to talk—the whole reason he’d come here in the first place—and finally passed out cold with his head in her lap.

  What the fuck? True exhaustion, or just avoidance?

  He didn’t want to think too closely about the answer to that.

  Finally unable to ignore the demands of his bladder anymore, Geo got to his feet and tiptoed down the hall to the apartment’s one and only bathroom. When he’d finished, he paused in front of Lani’s door, which was slightly ajar.

  Holding his breath, Geo peeked in, catching a glimpse of long, tangled hair and one bare shoulder, the rest of her covered up by a thick gray comforter. He backed away, careful not to make any noise, and retreated to the kitchen.

  The sight of their cheesecake plates in the sink brought a lump to his throat, along with the memory of gentle fingers in his hair, soothing murmurs, and a sense of peace and safety that’d enabled him to fall so deeply asleep he hadn’t even felt her disentangle herself from him.

  He couldn’t remember the last time that’d happened, if ever.

  Sighing, he filled the sink with soapy water and washed the plates and silverware. When he was done, he stood uncertainly in the middle of the kitchen, the soft ticking of the appliances the only noise.

  What else could he do? She’d probably be getting up soon, and it’d be nice if—after everything she’d done for him—she could wake up to something.

  He discarded the idea of running out to buy breakfast. Lani would appreciate the effort more than the result, homemade over store-bought every time. Geo gazed at the fridge, imagining it covered with childish creations someday—finger paintings, crayon drawings, even stick figures.

  Each one would get a pleased exclamation, and a hug and kiss, before finding its place of honor amidst all the others...

  He squared his shoulders. Okay, he’d cook for her. It wouldn’t be amazing, but he’d try. Searching her tiny pantry, he came up with a box of pancake mix. Ah, perfect. Pancakes were idiot-proof, weren’t they?

  “Well, almost,” he thought ruefully a few minutes later as the one he was trying to flip broke apart. “Not as easy as it looks.”

  “Good morning.” Lani’s husky voice behind him made him jump and whirl around, spatula in hand. “What’s going on?”

  Oh, my. In a spaghetti-strap tank and cotton pajama pants, she looked sleep-warmed and cuddly, and the sudden, overwhelming desire to take her in his arms had him spinning back toward the stove.

  “Um, you know, breakfast,” he grunted. “Although I’m not doing so great a job.” He lifted his chin toward a nearby plate and its pathetic stack of uneven, broken pancakes, wincing when she crossed the room to look at them.

  “Mmm. They don’t have to look pretty to taste good, do they? I can’t wait.”

  Despite a sneaking suspicion that she was only being polite, warmth flooded him at her approval. As he finished with the last few pancakes, she sliced some bananas and made a pot of coffee, both of them working in a companionable silence.

  When they were finally seated across from each other, Lani lifted her glass of orange juice and tapped it against Geo’s mug. “Cheers.”

  “Cheers,” he mumbled, holding his breath as she forked up her first bite. She chewed thoughtfully f
or a moment, then pronounced them delicious, her tone grave but her eyes twinkling.

  “Thank you, Geo. What’s the occasion?”

  He knew she meant more than the breakfast—she meant his sudden appearance, then the way he’d clammed up and fallen asleep on her lap. Still, her demeanor was relaxed, and there was no demand to her words. That strange sense of peace and safety wrapped itself around him again.

  “My platoon sent me home.”

  That surprised her, he could tell, but her gaze remained steady on his. “Because?”

  He carefully laid his fork down and clasped his fingers together in his lap, his heart starting to pound.

  I’m going to say this, and afterward, nothing will ever be the same.

  “Because one year ago, my teammate killed himself. And it’s all my fault.”

  * * *

  Lani could feel the blood drain from her cheeks.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before,” Geo went on shakily, “but I couldn’t—” He squeezed his eyes shut, anguish in every line of his body, as she struggled to process what she’d just heard.

  One year ago? Was he talking about Cade? Cade the bet-maker, motivator, hero and mentor?

  In the next instant, she was up and out of her chair. She dropped to her knees next to him. “Breathe, Geo,” she murmured, taking one of his ice-cold hands in hers. “Take a deep breath.”

  He did, and it sounded so much like a sob that he flinched and tried to pull away. Lani hung on to him, moving her thumb in soothing circles over his wrist. “First of all, I need you to know something, something I wish even one person had told me back when Tyler died.”

  His throat worked as he swallowed, his eyes still closed.

  “You’re not alone, okay? No matter how much you think you are, you’re not. If nothing else, I want you to trust me on that.” Steeling herself, she went on, “And secondly, despite what your brain is telling you, Cade’s death is not your fault.”

  Immediately he ripped his hand from hers. “You weren’t there. You don’t know—”

  “It’s not your fault,” she said, making her voice as firm as she could. “The responsibility rests with Cade and Cade alone.”

  “You weren’t there,” he repeated through clenched teeth, then surged to his feet. Afraid he was about to bolt, she stood, too, and planted herself in front of him.

  “Why did your platoon send you home?”

  When he shook his head, she tamped down her frustration at his stubborn reticence.

  “Why did your platoon send you home, Geo?”

  “Because I’m a fuck-up,” he burst out. “I’ve been drinking a lot. Been in two bar fights the past few weeks...”

  Shock roared through her, but she forced herself to sound calm. “What did your command say?”

  “They ordered me to talk to a shrink. Gave me zero say in the matter, zero choice. If I don’t, it’s all over for me.” He grimaced, jaw tight. “The problem is, I don’t have a clue where to start, and I’m scared to fucking death I’m flushing my entire career down the toilet right now.”

  Despite her roiling emotions, his reluctant admission brought a flash of relief. Now they were getting somewhere. She had to keep him talking.

  “Well, my support group is amazing—”

  Before she could get the words all the way out, he was already shaking his head. “No groups. That kind of stuff isn’t for me.”

  She wanted to argue, tell him that her group wasn’t whatever he was picturing, but she forced herself to be patient. “How long are you in town for?”

  He let out a bitter snort. “Until further notice, or until I get my shit together, whichever comes first.”

  “So what can I do?”

  He stared at her, and then with a helpless gesture, slumped back against the counter. “I don’t know, Lani. I just don’t know.”

  The weary defeat in his voice made her heart ache. “Well, nothing has to be decided right now, does it?” she said gently. “Let’s finish our breakfast, or would you maybe want to take a shower? We can talk later.”

  He glanced over at her, his relief at the proffered escape palpable. “A shower sounds good. Can I?”

  “Of course.”

  She laid out some towels for him while he jogged down to his truck to fetch his duffel. Once he was safely in the bathroom with the water running, she unplugged her phone from the charger and called Maura.

  She told her the whole story before saying tearfully, “I have no idea what I’m doing.”

  “Sounds like you’re doing a beautiful job.” Maura’s smooth, reassuring voice wrapped around Lani like a weighted blanket. “What he needs right now is an empathetic friend, and that’s exactly what you are.”

  “I just feel so clueless—”

  “Nonsense,” Maura broke in. “Whether you realize it or not, you’ve been modeling healthy grief work for him. That’s why he came to you.”

  Lani told her what he’d said about the drinking and the fights.

  “Well, his grief has to go somewhere, doesn’t it? Anger is an easy outlet.” Maura made a frustrated sound. “I’m willing to bet Geo’s story is the same one I’ve heard over and over from servicemembers I’ve counseled. After a suicide, units are often dismantled, which takes away from any source of support they might find in each other. Commands don’t allow surviving teammates to hold their own memorial service, sending the message that the death was shameful, something not worthy of being acknowledged and mourned.”

  She paused.

  “I think Geo’s drawn to you because you’ve been where he is. You’re also in a unique position to understand his world, and what he needs is someone to give him permission to grieve, to let him know it’s okay to fall apart.”

  Lani grunted. “I’m the queen of falling apart, aren’t I? He’s definitely in the right place.”

  “And you’ve also realized that falling apart doesn’t make you weak, and that letting your grief evolve doesn’t diminish your love for Tyler in any way.” Maura paused again, a bit longer this time. “But, my dear, you’re not obligated to put yourself through any of this. Give him my number—”

  “Oh, I will,” Lani broke in, “but I want to do what I can from here, too. I want to pay it forward, what I’ve learned. It’s my way of honoring Tyler.”

  Lani promised to call if she needed her, and after they hung up, she stood for a long time, Maura’s words echoing in her ears.

  “You’re in a unique position to understand his world.”

  Painful memories surged—of Rhys and his post-deployment nightmares, of those times he’d tried to turn to her for comfort but she was incapable of or unwilling to give it.

  He went into that basement for me, and all I managed to do in return was let him down. Nothing will ever change the regret I feel about that.

  She squared her shoulders. No. She wouldn’t repeat her past mistakes. It was too late for her to be there for Rhys, but she could be here for Geo. She could take every one of the painful lessons she’d learned over the past ten years and pass them on to the man now walking in her shoes.

  A man she was growing to care for more each day. Through blurred eyes, she gazed at the cold, misshapen pancakes—Geo’s sweet attempt at meeting her needs even in the midst of his own distress.

  She swallowed the lump in her throat. Why? Why did she have to find him now, when anything between them would be impossible? The best thing—the smart thing—would be to give him Maura’s number and let her refer him to other people who could help. No one, least of all Geo, would blame her for that.

  As if he was reading her mind, his husky voice sounded behind her. “Lani? Do you want me to leave?”

  She smoothed out her expression and turned to face him, her heart skipping a beat. He wore a clean, though rumpled, T-shirt and cargo shorts, his feet bare, hai
r damp. Despite his obvious attempt at stoicism, his eyes also shone with a vulnerability that tugged at her.

  She couldn’t abandon him now. No way.

  So she summoned up her most incredulous tone. “Leave? When it’s time for pancake-flipping lessons? Come here, you.” Lani extended her hand to him, a quiver going through her when he took it without hesitation. “No, I don’t want you to go. In fact, I’d like you to stay here with me as long as you’re in town.”

  His eyes widened. “What?”

  “Don’t go to the barracks. Stay here with me.” Suddenly, she’d never been so sure of anything in her life. “We can cook together, watch TV, talk when and if you want to...” She shrugged. “Maybe you’ll even convince me to exercise a little. No promises, though.”

  Indecision had been flitting across his face, but at those last words, the mischievous look he shot her weakened her knees and stole every last bit of her breath.

  “Oh, you gotta know them’s fightin’ words,” he drawled. “No SEAL can resist a challenge like that.”

  “Um, hate to break it to you, but you’re no match for my aversion to exercise,” she fired back. “SEAL or no.”

  “Well, then, challenge most definitely accepted.” He still held her hand, and he gave it a gentle squeeze. “You sure?”

  “Totally sure.” My head is, at least. My heart? Not so much.

  They stared at each other for another few beats, and then Geo nodded. “So what’s this about pancake-flipping lessons? I thought you said they didn’t have to look pretty to taste good.”

  The tinge of indignation in his voice made her giggle. “Well, why not have both? Watch this.”

  He leaned against the counter nearby as she whipped up some fresh batter and reheated the griddle. In no time she had a thick stack of fluffy, perfect pancakes. “Voila.”

  “Hmph. You make it look easy,” he grumbled as he took his seat at the table. “At least I tried.”