Page 40 of Luck Be Mine (The Defenders #3)

He rose, adjusting the uniform he wore today. “Coming in.”

For Cait.

In the office, there was no sofa. He chose a forest-green chair with arms. Expecting Ivers to go behind his wide wood desk, the doctor surprised him and dragged a matching chair across from him. A light scent of cedar made him relax. Tricky.

“Need coffee?”

Hunt shook his head. “No. Full breakfast at home getting my wife off to shift.”

“I was surprised you got married, Hunter. I don’t get caught off guard very often.”

“Guess marriage can happen to the worst of us.”

Ivers frowned. “I’ve never thought of you as the worst of us, Commander. Where does the idea come from?”

“You can call me Hunt, Doc. I kill people for a living. Does our purpose make it noble?”

“No, Hunt, but it doesn’t make it wrong either. But we aren’t here for a philosophical discussion. How are you?”

Hunt’s gut jumped like he’d eaten live grasshoppers, but laying it on the table required honesty, and he would do this. “Not sleeping. Wife says I’m shut down. I don’t disagree. I was standing right next to Baxter when he took two in the head. Could have been me. I’m struggling with the replay.”

“You’ve lost teammates before.”

“I wasn’t married before. It was only me. I could throw myself into whatever was necessary, whether death or injury was an outcome or not.”

“It doesn’t change the job. Psych evals are never voluntary.”

“No, they aren’t.”

“Good. Let’s skip the small talk and get to it.”

Hunt cleared his throat, his purpose clear. Ivers may be judging his operational fitness, but he needed the man for his marriage. “I am here because I need to be.”

Ivers removed his glasses and sat back in his chair. His intense focus was unsettling. “I never thought I’d hear you say that. Why?”

“Some of the emotional weight of what happened to Baxter is backing up on my wife. I don’t like it. She’s the one good thing I have.”

“Okay, how is it backing up?”

“I’m processing Bess Baxter’s grief at the same time I’m dealing with the team’s loss and watching Cait cope. It’s killing me it could have been me leaving Cait with insurmountable grief.”

“Not an unusual problem in the teams. You do have lives outside of operating.”

“It’s operating, though. This is home.”

“Well, describe that for me.”

“I’ve never had a home until I married Cait, and she made one. Safe Harbor is what we call it.”

Ivers put his glasses back on and reached for a file folder on his desk. “Is it safe?”

“Yes. For anybody who comes to us, it’s been the goal. She’s succeeded.”

“You’ve had no part in it?”

“I’m never there, Doc. I step through the door – but it’s hers. The house is clean, spacious, beautiful. Fridge is full of food. She created a workspace that is mine alone. I weaponized the space and scared her yesterday.”

Confused, Ivers flipped open the folder and pulled his pen from his pocket. “Weaponized is an interesting word. How?”

“I don’t mean with guns and actual violence. I mean I’m closed off. I went in the room and shut the door. I couldn’t let her in.”

“Why?”

“Protecting her from me and all my crap.”

“Protecting her? Or protecting you?”

Hunt sighed, trying to ignore rugged emotions he usually shoved aside. “I’ve been protecting Cait since Afghanistan.”

“How does she feel about it?”

“Rolls with it for the most part. Sometimes she pushes back.”

“So, she lets you stay in your comfort zone.”

Hunt went silent. Truth pushed him.

“Yes,” he finally muttered. “Until I went too far. I cut myself off from her. She got worried. Came searching for me when I left the house, unsure what I might do.”

“Were you suicidal?”

“No. If I was going to take that approach, I would have done it when I was younger. It’s not on the table.”

“Things build up. Things change. Are you sure?”

“Yes, I wouldn’t leave her alone.”

“Sounds like she wasn’t sure.”

“No. I wasn’t telling her what was going on like usual.”

Ivers crossed his legs, staring at Hunt as if deciphering a puzzle. “Do you think showing pain makes you weak?”

“Yes.”

“That is childhood trauma speaking.”

“I don’t want to talk about my childhood.” Hunt didn’t like the growl in his voice and took a minute to slam some doors in his head.

The doctor let him have the silent minutes then finally spoke carefully.

“So you’ve said before, but your protective tendencies are a byproduct of those experiences – not good, not bad – it’s where they come from.

You can’t have strength without weakness.

You can’t have joy without pain. Without the opposites, you can’t understand what you’re dealing with. ”

Hunt cracked a grin. “Now who is getting philosophical?”

Ivers raised his hand. “Guilty. Let me ask this. Describe Cait for me.”

“Driven, funny, smart, dependable, committed, strong. She’s my rock.”

“What are you to her?”

Hunt went silent. “I don’t know.”

“You should ask her.”

“I told her she was better off without me.”

Ivers blew out air. “Hunt, never say those words to your wife. Bad move.”

“Yeah, well it started my current mess.”

“Current mess?”

“She thought I was dismissing the last five years and all the good we’ve built.”

“But it was your protective nature speaking not your truth.”

“Maybe she needs protecting from me.”

“Childhood trauma again. I guarantee if I probed, you’d recount time after time where someone told you they’d be better off without you until you incorporated the idea into your subconscious thinking. It’s not what you want to believe or what is the truth.”

Hunt stared at him, voices echoing in his head. “I hate you. You ruined my life. I wish you weren’t here.” He didn’t realize he’d spoken aloud until Ivers answered him.

“Yes. Those statements. How many times a day does Cait show you or say she loves you?”

Hunt snorted. “Constant. I can’t count. From the minute we met, the attachment was there. We were apart for a year, both miserable, and we’ve been together ever since. It’s what we want and need.”

“But you screwed it up.”

“Yes, I did. Subconscious?” Hunt swore at himself for asking because it opened a whole mess. Still, for her.

“Most likely. Your quest to protect her is you protecting yourself. She got hurt in Afghanistan, right?”

“I thought she wasn’t going to make it.”

“Protecting yourself. There’s a lot of pain and grief here, no doubt. How’s the team handling everything?”

The shift in topic threw him off. He wanted to talk about Cait. “They’re coping. At my house. But we’re working through all of it together.”

“At your house?”

“Well, we do call it Safe Harbor for a reason.”

“At some point, they need to go home.”

“They will.” He knew the team was leaning on him, but he wouldn’t show any cracks in their brotherhood.

“Let’s resolve the psych eval then.” He pulled the file. “Let me ask these questions. Answer truthfully.”

He went through a checklist, and Hunt answered, mostly honest. If he fudged a bit, it was to protect the team. McIvers pondered for a few minutes and stared at his notes. Hunt sat back in the chair, taking a slow breath and trying not to show any nerves.

Ivers closed the file and studied Hunt’s face. “I see no reason to take you off operational status. You’re not any better or worse than any other in the same situation. But you have to tell me if any issues compromise the team.”

“Agreed. Thanks.” He held his posture, projecting confidence even as he internally sagged with relief.

The man leaned forward in earnest. “But maybe strength is letting someone help. You came here for her. Stay for yourself. Because she can’t emotionally carry you forever.”

Hunt swallowed, letting his love for Cait dictate his response. “When’s a good time to come again?”