Page 18 of Valor
“I knew what I was getting into when I married you, Spitfire. You aren’t crazy, but you’re a woman. Sometimes you don’t make a lick of sense, but I love you anyway.” I smile to soften the tease and she predictably smacks me in the stomach, but doesn’t take real offense.
“Are you sure you’re feeling okay?” Concern knits her expression.
“If you ask me again, I’m gonna find a way to keep that mouth of yours occupied.”
It’s an empty threat. Much as I want to kiss her senseless, I don’t have it in me. Frankly, the pain meds they’d pumped into me have me more woozy than the brain injury.
“Fine, you big jerk. I won’t ask you anymore.”
“You gonna stay here with me?”
“I’d better. You’d terrorize the nurses otherwise, and they have enough cranky patients to deal with. I don’t think I could leave you here, anyway. I’d be too worried.”
“You worry too much.”
She sighs heavily. “I really do, Ben. About everything.”
“Hey, what do you mean?” I ask when I hear her sniffle.
“I’m always afraid something will go wrong. That I’ll lose someone else I love. I don’t think I could handle it. I’m not strong enough. I know you think I am, but I’m not. It would break me. When I was driving over here, all I could imagine was losing you. But it’s not the normal kind of fear. This is suffocating.”
“You’ve been through a lot, baby. It’s normal to be anxious.”
Her eyes meet mine. “Yeah, but years later? I don’t think it’s healthy. I think…I think I need help.”
It must kill her to admit she needs help, she’s not the prideful type, but she’s the sort who believes she has to be superwoman. Be the perfect mom, wife, friend, sister. The stress can’t be easy to handle. She may not be perfect, but she’s perfect for me. And I’ll do anything to help her see that.
“Then we’ll get you some help. A therapist. Yoga. Weed, whatever you need.” She giggles and I nuzzle her throat. “I mean it. Whatever you need.”
“I don’t think my job would take too kindly to a teacher being high, but maybe it wouldn’t be a bad idea for me to go see Dr. Rosenstein again.”
We’d both seen therapists after Cole was kidnapped, then the three of us saw another after his heart transplant to help us cope. We also saw one after Phoebe was born to help us be better parents and spouses. Livvie believed they helped and I wasn’t averse to doing whatever she wanted to make our little family thrive. I didn’t take too kindly to the head doctors, especially after serving in the Marines for so long, but Livvie was adamant and I’d talk to anyone who put her more at ease. I wouldn’t say it helped overmuch, but I liked my shrink well enough to humor her. I don’t feel guilt for too much of what I had to do overseas, only for the people I couldn’t save and the innocent lives who were caught in the middle.
“If you think you need to, we can call him on Monday and make you an appointment.”
“I think it would help.”
“Then that’s what we’ll do. You can always talk to me about these things, babe. I won’t ever judge you for how you feel.”
“I know you won’t, but I judge myself. Especially when there are instances like these when I’m not the one who was in an accident.”
“It was barely a bump. I’m fine. The truck didn’t have much damage. Shit, we need to call Logan to make sure it gets back home.”
“I already did before I came over here.”
“You know you’re an angel, right?” I say and kiss her, on the lips this time.
“So you keep trying to tell me. Do you think we could consider this another mini getaway?” she adds after a pause.
I glance around the hospital room, which is barely more than a closet. There’s a curtain in front of the door, which barely affords any privacy at all, and on the other side are the murmured voices from the nursing station around the corner and the occasional wail from a new patient being hauled down the hallway. I’ve got a hell of a bruise on my forehead and am dressed in a hospital gown and little else. To cap things off, there’s a Tupperware full of piss on the floor nearby. Really romantic.
“You’d consider this a getaway? Well, it’s no fancy hotel, that’s for sure.”
“Well, we’re alone. No one is crying. At least not anymore. We’ve got the bed to ourselves and we can watch whatever grownup movie we want on TV”
I continue to thread my fingers through her hair as I ponder her words. “Do you think they’ll let us stay?”
Her responding laughter is music to my ears, proof to me that no matter what obstacle we face, we’ll do it together.