Page 31

31

K night parked the truck at the facility and rang the doorbell. Torn between wanting to turn the truck around to comfort his distraught wife and desperately needing advice, he waited impatiently for Saint to answer. The door disengaged, allowing him in. A minute later, his brother-in-law walked toward him.

“Sorry, I was finishing a meeting. We’ll head to the kitchen,” Saint informed him as he led the way down the hall. Upon entering, Knight noticed Patch and Whiskey sitting at the table.

“Tess made grilled shrimp with a salad for us. Care to join us?” Patch pointed to a bowl opposite him.

“Sure,” he answered suspiciously as Saint brought various drinks to the table.

A minute later, Leo appeared and joined his men. “Doc drove Kassie home to rest. Claire says she’s free in an hour if we need her.”

Knight sank into the chair and scanned the men. His senses heightened as he watched them focus on their food and glance toward Whiskey and Patch. Scooping a portion of the delicious smelling food into the wide bowl, he grabbed a water and pierced a shrimp with his fork.

Leo cleared his throat and nodded toward Saint.

Sighing, his brother-in-law set down his silverware and leaned back into the chair. “This isn’t an ambush. You’re my family and I’ll happily finish the meal and we can head to my house. It’s come to my attention, Whiskey and Patch saw some things they want to address with you. Since they brought it up, I can see their concerns. Do you want to listen to them or do you prefer to leave?”

Knight picked up the water bottle and gulped down what felt like a golf ball in his throat. He already put his foot in his mouth with these men. What could they possibly say to make him feel any worse? “If you have something to say, then do it.”

Patch placed his elbows on the table and rested his chin on his hands. “We understand you can’t discuss your missions. We’ll try to stick to generalities. You seem closed off and on edge at all times. Did anyone ever discuss PTSD with you or depression?”

Knight’s head jerked back. “You think I have it? I’m a SEAL like the rest of you. I’ve seen crap, done shit and experienced hell. I know how to deal with it. I’m not some pansy-ass who can’t stomach their orders or what they saw.”

Leo growled under his breath, and Patch flipped his hand into the air, warning his leader to back off.

Whiskey sat back in his chair. He glanced over to his teammate, waiting for Patch to continue.

“You think you’re a tough guy, huh? How’s it working for you? You’ve lost your prospects of joining this team, you left your wife for some imaginary affair you cooked up in your head and she can’t wait to divorce your ass,” Patch gritted out. “It seems to me you carry a huge chip on those broad shoulders of yours when you’re about to lose a damn good woman who’s pregnant with your kid.”

Whiskey clasped his hands on the table. “We’re trying to help you. You may not recognize the symptoms from what Matthew’s dug up on you. Regardless of your shitty attitude, you’re still a brother in arms. We help each other in times of need. Do you notice how you go from zero to sixty in a flash? What about lashing out when you feel stressed? You seemed to isolate yourself from your team. They held concerns and when they attempted to reason with you, you caused fights and dissension among your brothers. For example, check yourself now. You’re sitting there with your fists clenched, your jaw clamped shut and you’re ready to strike out at us at any moment.”

Knight’s heart beat wildly in his chest. He slowly glanced down and noticed his body’s reaction to Whiskey’s words. A numbing sensation drifted from his head to his toes. “How do you know all about this stuff?”

Leo crossed his arms and Saint pinched his nose and closed his eyes. Patch caught his stare as the room became unbearably quiet. “We know the symptoms because Whiskey and I suffer from PTSD. It’s not a one-size-fits-all box. I came here months ago and refused to believe anyone understood what I went through. I see a lot of myself in you,” Patch informed him.

“Don’t get him wrong. He’s still an asshole. I believe Claire even wrote it as a personality trait on his medical chart,” Leo added.

Patch sent a one-fingered salute to his leader.

He shook his head in denial. “No one ever mentioned anything about it to me, not even my teammates,” Knight insisted. “If you have it, how do you work here?”

“We go to meetings. Two doctors and a few therapists work at the hospital helping veterans overcome their diagnosis. There’s no magic pill to cure it. There is, however, support for those wanting help,” Whiskey informed him.

“You go to therapy and meetings?” he asked in disbelief. He couldn’t picture the two big men attending meetings, sharing feelings and holding hands like a community cult.

“Yes. I’ve finished outpatient therapy and still attend meetings. When I feel things getting too heavy or something creeps up, I recognize the signs and seek help. Plus, Claire never hesitates to order me to a meeting when she’s put up with enough of my shit,” Patch confessed.

“I spent years as a prisoner. I struggled with returning and nearly lost my wife, Samantha. We asked Saint to bring you here, brother, because we believe you’re lost and your life’s unraveling faster than you can control it. We can’t diagnose you with anything. Claire may be able to help you. It won’t work unless you’re willing to at least meet with her and hear her out. I’m not blowing smoke up your ass. It’s a ton of hard work,” Whiskey said.

“What if she can’t find anything wrong with me?” Knight asked.

“Then we know you’re a general asshole,” Patch responded. “And I’m not sure if that puts you in a different light.”

Saint placed a hand on his shoulder. “Claire has agreed to see you if you want to speak with her professionally. Nothing you tell her will ever be discussed outside her office. She holds one of the highest security clearances. You asked for advice and I’m gonna give it to you straight. I believe you’re struggling, and it’s causing problems in your personal life, especially with your marriage. Gabby seems like a great catch. She understood the demands of a military wife. She went to school and worked hard while you did your duty. It sounds as if you let her down more than once. This might be a good first step if you want to rectify your situation.”

Knight licked his lips nervously. “What if Claire diagnoses me with it? How will I retain a job? I’ll have a child to support. I don’t want to lose Gabby. Everything I do feels like it’s wrong. She watches me with suspicion. I know I’ve hurt her and I take full responsibility. She didn’t deserve what I did and I’m unsure she’ll take me back.”

Leo rubbed the scruff along his chin. “No one can guarantee that she’ll be able to forgive you for your mistakes. If it gives you some sense of comfort, you’re sitting among a few men who have done some stupid shit and their wives or significant others managed to see the good in us. You might have a chance if Gabby sees you consistently showing up and doing the work.”

“I don’t even know what she needs anymore. Gabby’s become self-sufficient,” he admitted. “She refused to even accept comfort from me.”

“Dude, she has a baby on the way. Get some books on what a mom goes through. Do not take any advice from Leo. Don’t tell her you plan to show up, show her,” Patch encouraged him.

“I tried to show her today by giving her half the money from the sale of the house. She refused to take it and made me agree not to halt this divorce.” He sheepishly peered at the men. “I made her life hell and only wanted her to feel secure. She doesn’t need to give birth and return to work because she’s worried about the money.”

Saint huffed. “I bet it went over like a lead balloon. From what Bryanna mentioned, you handled all of her physical needs. Gabby doesn’t want your money. She’s spent months stressed out about raising a child on her own because you refused to give her your time. It seems like you missed out on some important occasions. They didn’t cost money. She only wanted you.”

Knight’s mind raced as he saw his past actions through Gabby’s eyes. The times when he returned, she asked him to watch a movie or try to keep certain dates open. Now, he knew he missed her graduation, her birthday, and their anniversary, the last of which occurred in two days. He let the hurt and pain she must’ve felt flow through him, taking it all in, and noticing his mistakes.

“Gabby and this baby represent the most important things in my life and I can’t let them go without a fight. We have a wedding anniversary in two days. We’re supposed to appear at the courthouse next Friday for the divorce. How can I convince her to hold off? I need help.”

Leo nodded. “First, you need to work on yourself. If she wants the divorce, there’s nothing you can do. It’s not a death sentence. It may be what you need to start over with a clean slate. Talk to Claire. I’ll call Kit Kat, my wife, and see if the women can meet with you. They can provide some insight on how to show Gabby you plan on sticking around. Whatever you do, don’t remind them about their out-of-control hormones or how much they're eating. It gets you into a shit ton of trouble. Take my advice.” He stood, dismissing the men and headed to his office.

Whiskey picked up all the dishes and took them to the dishwasher. “It may seem daunting at first. Facing your own demons has a way of sucking the life out of you. Come to the meetings for support. Patch and I will attend with you if you want company. When you feel the rage building, conjure Gabby in your mind to remind you of what you’re fighting for. It’s a lot of work and self-reflection, but the prize waiting on the other side makes it worth the journey.”

Knight nodded. “Thanks. How do I reach Claire?”

Patch stood. “Come on, brother. Follow me over to the hospital and I’ll introduce you.”

Knight rose and glanced at Saint, who gave him a wink of encouragement. He swallowed down the fear of discussing what haunted him. If he must face it to earn Gabby’s trust, he’d face the beast and slay it. He only hoped his actions didn’t come too late.

Claire smiled as Patch knocked and went in when she told him to enter. She rose, walked around her desk, greeting Patch. Knight lingered by the door, feeling the anxiety rise higher as Patch turned to introduce him.

The pretty woman smiled and warmly took his hand. “Hello, Knight. It’s nice to finally meet you. Feel free to take a seat anywhere and I’ll be right with you. Let me put my things away.”

He stood frozen to his spot. Scanning the furniture felt like a test, as if sitting in a specific one determined the course of his visit.

“Hey, asshole. She said sit down and you can at least say hello,” Patch growled out.

“Patch,” the blonde’s tone held a warning.

The man rolled his eyes heavenward. “Claire,” he mimicked. “He’s acting rude.”

Claire’s eyes shot fire as she smiled sweetly and took Patch by the arm. “Or maybe he’s a bit nervous and you’re not helping. I’ll see you at home,” she ordered as she held open the door for him to leave.

Patch narrowed his eyes, promising her retribution, but the spunky doctor refused to back down. When he walked through the opening, he turned to say something, and she promptly shut the door in his face and locked it.

“Now, where were we? Oh, please take a seat. It’s not a test. I want you to feel comfortable.” She waved him down as she grabbed a small notebook. Seeing him still standing, she took a seat on the couch. Knight’s eyebrow raised as he regarded her selection of places to sit. Didn’t she expect him to lie down or something?

She chuckled as he lowered himself to the cushy armchair.

“I’m Knight. Saint’s my sister’s husband. He suggested I come talk to you. You’re with Patch?” he asked incredulously. “He has some serious issues.”

Claire giggled. “It’s a good thing he’s engaged to me. He needs a twenty-four hour shrink.”

Knight laughed. “He’s an…”

“Asshole. It’s the word you’re searching for. Don’t worry, you haven’t offended me. In Patch’s case, I think I hear it on a daily basis.”

He had to give it to her, she knew how to make someone feel comfortable.

“Let’s get down to why you’re here. I’m working in the blind. Patch asked me to fit you in. Can you tell me why he thinks you need my help?”

“I…uh…met with the guys earlier. They thought I might suffer from PTSD or something,” he replied uncomfortably.

“What do you think?” Claire asked as she dug into a fridge, pulled out two water bottles, and handed him one.

He shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know. I mean, I have friends who have received the diagnosis, but I’m not aware of how they got it.”

She smiled. “I met your wife earlier. Congratulations on the new baby.”

“Uh…thank you. It’s sort of a new development for me,” he added with a smile. “Can you tell me if she’s doing all right? I informed her about her friend, Jackie. She didn’t take it well when I broke the news.”

“She’s processing it. Gabby blames herself. Of course, it’s not her fault. It’ll take her time to realize it.”

“Will she be okay? What about the baby? I’m sure you know we’re divorcing next week and I’m concerned about her health with everything happening,” he confessed.

“Rest assured, she’s in good hands here,” Claire spoke gently.

He let out a relieved sigh. “How do I know if I have this PTSD? I don’t know how this works and I’m anxious to get back to Gabby.”

“For now, we’ll chat for a bit. If we reach a topic you aren’t comfortable with, you only need to say ‘pass’ and then I’ll go on to my next question. PTSD isn’t necessarily diagnosed in one visit. You may be dealing with something else entirely. Tell me about yourself.”

Knight paused. “I’m a SEAL. I held a sniper position on my team. For the last eighteen months, I worked on a special assignment for the CIA. My contract ended early once I completed my task.”

“I see. What prompted you to accept the job?”

“The last year with my team seemed tense and we spun up often. When I returned home, Gabby and I fought. I hoped by getting out early, it might help us as a couple,” he admitted as he unscrewed the bottle cap and took a long draw of the cool liquid.

“What changed between the two of you? If you thought getting out of the military might help, did she express her frustration with your career?”

Knight recalled their discussions. “No. She never mentioned it.”

“Then why did you believe getting out of your contract solved your problem?” Claire slipped her shoes off and placed her feet on the couch.

“I don’t know. I felt like I lost her somewhere along the way. I missed some big life events and didn’t know how to make up for them. When I returned from my last mission to tell her about the early release, I found her in bed and a man coming out of our bathroom. I jumped to the wrong conclusion. I hurt her.”

“When you left on missions, did Gabby tell you they bothered her?”

He shook his head. “Never. When I came home, I always found a room newly painted, the yard full of flowers. One time, I came home to find her rewiring the dining room chandelier.” He chuckled.

“How did it make you feel?”

“How did I feel?” he repeated. “Gabby’s independent. If she didn’t figure it out, she called someone to handle it. I left a list on the fridge of things I noticed I needed to do when I came home. On my next return, I fixed or handled the items. It seemed like a good system.”

Claire scribbled in her notebook. “If Gabby cared for everything, what items did you have left on the list? Can you give me an example?”

His eyebrows knitted together as he recalled the lists he had left. “The roof showed a few loose shingles. I transferred money into the joint account in case she needed anything while I deployed. I changed the oil in her car and I ran errands she didn’t finish.”

“How do you think Gabby felt about your list?”

“What do you mean?” he asked, confused by her question. “I ensured everything got handled.”

“But I thought you said Gabby did. Think about if the situations reversed. Gabby spun up and left you a list of all the things she felt you mismanaged or didn’t get to. How does it make you feel?”

He sat, stunned. “No…you misunderstand. I didn’t know when I might spin up, making my time limited. The list ensured her comfort.”

“Are you sure? If you checked off your list, where did she come in?”

“She’s my wife. I always took her for dinner when I returned. Sometimes, she made a meal, usually my favorites, and we stayed home.”

“When you returned, how did you spend an evening together?”

His palms felt sweaty as he rubbed them against his jeans. His chest tightened as he remembered walking in from dinner and locking himself in his office for hours.

“The last year, my mission required my full attention. Even when I returned home, I still answered phone calls and tracked assets.”

“Where did Gabby spend her time? Did the military allow you to take confidential records home?” Claire pushed.

“I don’t know what she did. I assumed she watched TV or read. Sometimes she went to bed before I finished,” he said exasperated. “She always seemed to have projects going.”

“What about the confidential records? Did you take them home with you?”

He shook his head. “No. I didn’t want Gabby to stumble across anything. I kept everything locked up in here.” Knight tapped the side of his head.

“Including Gabby?”

Knight’ jaw dropped. “Of course not. She remained my priority. When I left on missions, I ensured she didn’t want for anything. She lived in a lovely home, drove a nice car, and I never complained about how she spent our money.”

“You say, ‘our money,’ yet you kept a separate account?”

“I deposited my check into our joint account. I opened a second account for savings and any essentials,” he explained.

“Did you speak with her about it? It’s not a trick question. I only ask because she’s an accountant. I assumed she handled the funds.”

“She paid the monthly bills. I only made a point of making sure she kept enough funds for her endless projects. I didn’t know she even withdrew from the savings until the court required us to complete a financial report.”

“Did you ask her what she needed?”

“By the time I discovered it, I refused to speak with her. At the meeting with the attorney, I requested the funds she withdrew be deducted from her half. I know it sounds terrible. I wanted to hurt her as she hurt me.”

“How did she injure you?” Claire made a few notes and sipped from her water.

“At the time I thought she cheated. It’s not true. I know the truth now,” he said softly.

“How did she take you accusing her of infidelity?”

The room grew quiet. “I apologized when I realized my mistake. I don’t know how to make up for it. She’s determined to proceed with the divorce and I can’t blame her.”

Claire sat up straighter. “I know about your father and your past from your sister. Do you think you focused on giving Gabby all the material needs because you didn’t want her to go without because of how your mother struggled?”

“I refused to allow her to want for anything,” he replied vehemently. “She’ll never go without as long as I can help it.”

“But in trying to avoid becoming like your father, you went to the polar opposite. You gave her everything except you,” Claire murmured.

“I’m not like my dad. He left us with nothing. He abandoned my mom when she needed him the most. She gave birth to Bryanna and he never checked on us.” His breath hitched. He didn’t know about the pregnancy, yet he kicked Gabby out without a second thought. How did his wife feel after months of watching his child grow inside of her and fearing the uncertainty of their future?

“I never thought about her point of view. I became obsessed with the mission because I needed to do whatever it took to keep her from leaving me. Then, I became the reason. I foolishly believed the mission solved all my problems. Months of seeing innocent women slaughtered, took a toll. I wanted to stop him. I missed him by mere hours. I walked villages full of murdered victims because he went on a rampage. Their eyes haunted me. Then I pictured Gabby lying there helplessly. I wanted it finished.”

“Did you complete the task?”

“Yes.” He nodded. “Then I moved here searching for peace and to forget about my wife. My heart dropped into my gut when I received the call from the hospital. I don’t know who’s after her, but when I close my eyes, I see Gabby lying on the ground bleeding. I feel the terror and the helplessness. I don’t want to lose her. Can you help me?”

Claire smiled. “I can’t promise you Gabby’s return. I can help you with sorting through all those mixed messages in your head. If you work on yourself, you might discover a way to get through to Gabby. I’m a firm believer that actions speak louder than words. If you’re interested, we can meet twice a week. There’s a group meeting held every night of the week. You might find them helpful.”

“Do I have PTSD?” he asked.

“It’s too early for me to make a diagnosis. Don’t worry about a label. Focus on the progress,” Claire advised as she rose and went to her desk. “We can meet on Wednesday. Next week, I have Monday and Thursday open.”

“Wednesday’s our anniversary. I know she’s insistent about the divorce. I want to make a gesture, but I’m unsure how she’ll take it. What time do you have open?”

“I can meet at 0800 or 1030. I don’t know how Gabby will react. She’s experienced a lot of loss: your marriage, you, and the death of her friend.” Claire paused. “I can’t tell you what to do. Her world has crumbled and she sorely needs a friend, maybe start there.”

“I’ll take the 0800. Thank you, Claire. I knew some of this, yet I never considered what it must’ve appeared to my wife.”

“Work on yourself, Knight. You can’t give Gabby what she needs if you ignore your own mental health,” she advised.

He smiled gratefully as he walked out of the office. Patch leaned against the wall with his arms crossed.

“How did it go?” Patch fell in line with him as he walked down the hall toward the hospital’s exit.

“Didn’t you say it’s confidential?” Knight pushed open the glass door and descended the steps.

“I’m not a talker. I went through shit and the guys on the team stood by me. Claire helped me see the light. I’m trying to pay it forward. I screwed up more times than I can count. I’ve learned having a friend helps. Did you make another appointment?”

“Yeah, I did. You say having a friend will aid me?” Knight unlocked the truck and gripped the handle.

“Yeah. It does,” Patch admitted. “Be warned. If Claire asks you to put something together, pretend ignorance. The woman can deconstruct a child’s toy in ten minutes and it’s irreparable. Trust me, I know.”

“Do you know anyone I can call?” Knight asked as he kept a straight face.

“Me, asshole,” Patch growled as he punched Knight in the arm. “Come on. Let’s grab a beer.”

Smiling, Knight hopped into his vehicle and followed Patch to the facility. The weight on his chest felt a bit lighter, as if he started something in motion. Hopefully, it turned him in the right direction.