Page 28 of Coming Clean

“And—” Wouldn’t the other professors make the same assumptions about the two of them that I had?

“All right, a lot of people did think we were together.”

“Until David flirted with all the women there?” I fought the urge to laugh. Straight or not, David sure could look gay when he wanted to.

“Actually, most of them aren’t his type.”

“Too uptight?” I asked.

“No, too hippified.”

I burst out laughing at the image of coolly beautiful Jeremy and flashy David amidst a sea of patchouli-scented women in patchwork skirts.

“So, what do you think? Will you go with me?”

I sighed. I wanted to be there for him, wanted to jump into an out-of-the-closet relationship with both feet. “I’ll go.”

“You will?” The surprise in his voice hurt when it shouldn’t have.

“You thought I’d say no?”

“Well, yeah, but not because?—”

“I told you I was going to try.” Why the hell was I being pissy? Because I’m mad at myself. Because I chickened out and then fucking lied about it.

“I want you to do this for yourself, not just for me,” he said.

“Okay.” But that alone would never motivate me the way finding Jeremy had.

“What happened to Mario on your last mission?”

I couldn’t have this conversation now. I wanted to curl into a ball and make it all go away. “I… can’t… I want to tell you, but I can’t. Not now.”

“Okay.” Thankfully, he didn’t push. “Whenever you’re ready, I’ll listen, okay?”

“Thanks. I know.”

He would listen, and he wouldn’t push for more or pity me like most people I’d told any piece of the story to.

He’d never mocked me or acted like I should just get over things when I freaked out.

As if you ever got over seeing people blown apart by a bomb your own team had set.

Fuck. I slammed my fist against the wall. How could we have been so wrong?

Because we were tricked, betrayed, double-crossed. Our “informant” never intended to help us.

We should have seen that. We were trained to read people.

“Connor?”

Jeremy was still on the phone. “Yes?” I barely forced the word out.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“I’m just… I got lost for a minute.” Hopefully, he would understand what I meant.

“I’m sorry. Did I cause it? I shouldn’t have asked.”

“No, you have a right to ask. I caused it. All this shit is on me.”

“I doubt that.” He had that tone—scolding, yet empathetic—that he used when I put myself down.

“I could have stopped it.” I couldn’t quite free myself from the memories.

“Do you need me to come over?”

“I’m not sure.” At least he didn’t ask what I could have stopped. I pressed my hand over my left eye where a migraine was settling. Work. I needed to go to work.

“I can come over right now if you need me to.”

“No, I need to go to work.” I took a few slow breaths and forced myself to push the memories back behind the dam I’d built for them. The fucking thing sprang leaks about as fast as I could plug them.

“Is Sabrina working with you this morning?”

“Yes.” I looked at the clock—I was going to be late.

“I can drive you if you need me to,” Jeremy offered.

“No, I’ll be okay. I’m sorry I’m so fucked up.”

“Connor, listen to me. I lo—like you just like you are, and I’m sure you have good reasons for your reactions to what you went through.”

I snorted. “That’s what the therapists say, but they couldn’t fix me.”

“Isn’t this why Sabrina wants to be a therapist?” he asked.

“Yes. She wants me to see a friend of hers, but…”

“Let’s talk about that later.”

“Okay. I should go now.” I hoped he’d forget about it. I didn’t want to talk to him or a therapist. I just wanted to find a way to make the past stay where it belonged.

How are you going to do that when Mario is even more fucked up than you and that’s holding you back from having the relationship you want with Jeremy? You have to face this.

Not now.

My phone rang. It was Sabrina.

“Yes.”

“Are you on your way?” she asked.

Fuck. “Yes,” I lied.

“Are you with Jeremy again?”

“No, not this time.” My voice sounded hollow and far away.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” I wasn’t going to get away with that.

“Connor.” Sabrina was royally pissed.

“It’s just memories and ghosts. I’m fine and I’m on my fucking way, okay?” I hung up before she could answer.

That night, I lay awake long after Jeremy had fallen asleep.

It was late enough for me to call Mario.

I should try again. For once, I should put myself first, but that wasn’t what Marines did.

A Marine worked for his team, for his country, for freedom and justice—not for himself.

Mario needed saving. That was my mission.

You don’t have missions anymore. You left.

I left him there. That’s unacceptable.

You tried to take him with you. He wouldn’t come.

I could have stayed.

And become as lost as he is? You can’t save him if you’re dead inside.

I can’t save him if he cuts me out of his life, either.

You’re not his keeper.

I’m his friend.

Call him and tell him.

I checked the clock. Sabrina was a night owl, so she’d still be up, but there was no point in calling her.

I knew what she’d say. She’d tell me to make my confession and to hell with her brother.

Not because she was heartless but because she didn’t get it.

Sabrina cared about her brother; she just didn’t get why I felt so responsible for him.

She didn’t think like a Marine. My team and I would never leave a man behind, never give up on anyone.

She hadn’t been in that cave, chained up for days, given barely enough dribbles of water to stay alive, aching from bruises, scared, hallucinating. Mario had saved me from that hell. How could I destroy Mario’s image of who I was? How could I destroy our friendship?

I finally fell asleep, no closer to a solution.