If You Leave

  push-ups and sit-ups simply to get rid of restless energy. After I’ve done five hundred of each, I’m still restless.

  I eye my laptop, trying to fight the urge to boot it up and e-mail Madison.

  Fuck it. She might not want to talk to me, but I sure as hell want to talk to her.

  Dear Maddy,

  I’m sure you don’t want to hear this, but I miss you.

  Love,

  Gabe

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Madison

  The walls of this house are closing in on me. I stare around at the pictures and furniture and colors… all things that my mother picked out. All things that aren’t mine. It’s time to change that. I’m not going to lie here feeling sorry for myself anymore.

  I curl up on the sofa, pulling the coverlet more tightly around my waist, as I look through furniture catalogues. I need new living room furniture, bedroom furniture, kitchen furniture. Everything.

  Shopping is good for keeping my mind off Gabriel. Because thinking about him is pathetic. And I’m not fucking pathetic.

  I flip open my laptop and order it all, not feeling even a little guilty about spending the money. The Hill turned a profit this year. I can afford it. And I might as well use it on something to change my life, rather than more shoes.

  When the phone rings, my heart leaps, because for just a second I think it might be Gabriel.

  It’s stupid, I know. Because even if he calls, I can’t answer. There’s no way I’m putting myself out there again for him to stomp on. Fuck. That.

  Just the same, when I see the Hill’s phone number flashing on the screen, disappointment floods through me and I close my eyes.

  If I can’t talk to Gabe, then I don’t want to talk to anyone today. I let the call go to voice mail as I close my laptop and wander out onto the patio.

  Apparently I’m pathetic after all.

  I sit at the table, staring out at the lake. And even in the midst of the gorgeous views and sounds of the water, all I can do is remember the night Gabe bent me over this table.

  I close my eyes and remember it… the way his lips brushed over my arched neck, the way he nipped at my shoulder, his voice in my ear, his fingers inside me. The heat of our bodies pressed together in the cold rain. The feel of him inside me as he filled me up.

  I gulp, then close my eyes against the hot tears.

  Don’t fucking cry.

  He left you.

  Don’t fucking cry.

  I hold my eyes closed for a minute, pulling myself together… and am proud when I realize that not one tear fell.

  I can do this. He didn’t break me.

  After a few minutes I pick up my phone and listen to the voice mail.

  Hey, Maddy. This is Tony. Like I wouldn’t recognize his voice. I smile. Have you heard from Jacey? She didn’t show up for work and she didn’t call.

  Unfortunately that’s not unusual lately. She’s probably sleeping it off from the club last night or something. So I call him back and tell him that, then I click into my e-mail.

  I’m breathless when I see one from Gabe.

  As I read the words, my heart pounds.

  He misses me.

  My fingers shake as I type out a reply.

  You left me. You made this choice. Now we both have to deal with it.

  I stare at the hateful words and they pull at my heart, twisting it round and round. So I delete them.

  I wish you hadn’t left. But you did.

  Tears fill my eyes as I stare at the new words, as they bleed together as my eyes fill up. Fuck it. I press the backspace hard, deleting the words.

  I miss you, too.

  Out of all the things I feel, this is the thing I feel the most. But I can’t tell him that. Because then it would make it seem OK that he left, that he treated me like nothing. And that’s not OK.

  I delete the message, my fingers heavy as a stone as I close the laptop.

  If you don’t know what to say, nothing is always a good choice.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Gabriel

  Do you feel that you need to be ever-alert, or always on guard?

  Is your opinion of the incident based on fact?

  Are you easily startled?

  Brand wasn’t fucking lying when he told me that this shit sucks. It sucks big donkey balls and every dumbass question that I’m asked pisses me the fuck off.

  Day two is no better than day one was. In fact, it might be worse. The questions that they’re asking me, both in group and in the dumbass individual therapy session, are ridiculous.

  They start out talking about the seemingly innocuous questions from the work sheets, but that evolves into talking in depth about whatever incidents put us here, the things we fear the most.

  It’s like a sticky therapeutic web of bullshit.

  I am dejected as I walk back to my room after my individual session. I don’t feel like going to the cafeteria for dinner, so I’ll grab something from the vending machine later.

  The first thing I do after I close my bedroom door behind me is check my e-mail. As I punch my password in, I realize that I’m holding my breath… I want to see Maddy’s name. But there’s nothing but a note from Brand.

  Gabe,

  Day two really sucks, I remember. Hang in there. It doesn’t seem like it’s worth it or that it’s working, I know. But trust me, it will. Just keep your chin up, bro.

  —Brand

  I appreciate Brand. I do. But all I wanted was to see an answer from Maddy. And the lack of one is an answer in itself.

  I fucked up and I’ve lost her. Losing her feels every bit as bad as everything I went through in Afghanistan. Every fucking bit. And there’s nothing I can do about it.

  My stomach growls, so I close down my computer and venture out to the commons area where the vending machines are. I choose a sub sandwich and chips before turning around and finding Annie the army nurse behind me, holding a handful of quarters.

  “So, today sucked, right?” She glances up at me. “It was day two for you, wasn’t it?”

  I nod, knowing that she has no fucking clue exactly how bad it was for me. “Yeah. It seemed pretty pointless. My friend e-mailed me and said that it will get better. Or it’ll at least seem like it has a point soon.”

  Annie nods in agreement. “Yeah, it does. It doesn’t get any easier, but it will at least make sense.”

  “How many sessions do you have a day?”

  “Only one,” she tells me as she feeds her quarters into the machine. “I’m on light duty here at the hospital during treatment, so I have a shift that I have to work around. You?”

  “Two a day,” I answer. “And right now it seems pretty pathetic. But here’s hoping that tomorrow will be better. ’Night, Annie.”

  “ ’Night,” she calls after me.

  I can feel her watching me as I walk away. Her attention makes me a little uneasy, since I don’t know exactly what she wants from me. I feel like she’s almost put me on a pedestal, since I was with the team that rescued her. And I sure as hell don’t deserve that.

  After I eat my sandwich, I open my e-mail one more time, not breathing as I look. But I release my breath on a slow exhale.

  There’s nothing. My in-box is empty.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Madison

  I finish the call with the contractor I hired to work on my house and Tony stares at me from the chair in front of my desk.

  “You using Mathis and Son?” He raises an eyebrow. “Because I know Derrick Mathis. Tell him to give you a discount.”

  I smile, in spite of the way I don’t feel like smiling yet.

  “I know him too,” I remind Tony. “Trust me, he’s giving me a good deal. He’s painting every room in my house and laying new floor and tile, and he’s doing all of that work in one week’s time. Once I decided to do it, I just wanted it done. Like now. So he’s sending in several teams to get it taken care of. I’m going to stay with Mila and Pax for a few d
ays while it’s being done.”

  “Good plan.” Tony nods, his burly hands flipping through the work schedule. “We’ve gotta talk about Jacey, Mad. This is the second day in a row she hasn’t called in. What the hell is up with her?”

  I sigh. I texted her last night and didn’t get an answer… and that always means that she’s doing something she knows I wouldn’t approve of.

  “Well, let’s find out.” I sigh again as I pick up the phone. I dial her number and it rings five times. I’m just thinking it’s going to voice mail when she finally answers, surprising me.

  “Hey, Maddy,” she says brightly, as if she hasn’t been MIA for two days. “What’s up?”

  “You tell me,” I answer sternly. “You’ve missed work two days in a row. What the hell, Jacey? I need you here. Business is picking up for the season and I need a full staff.”

  There’s a pause and a rustle and a voice in the background.

  A man’s voice. A familiar man’s voice.

  “Who is that?” I demand suspiciously. “I know that’s not who I think it is.”

  Another pause, pregnant and long.

  I feel the blood boiling, up into my ears, spilling out into my cheeks, flushing them bright red.

  “Jacey, what the fuck is Jared doing at your house?”

  Tony snaps to attention in front of me, scowling at the phone. He holds his hands up to question Jacey’s motives and I shake my head.

  I have no idea, I mouth to him.

  “I know,” Jacey finally sighs. “I know you’re mad and Gabe will be mad, but Jared came to see me the other night and he apologized for everything. He was only being an ass because he missed me so much, Mad. Deep down he’s a good guy. He just needs to change some things. He really does love me.”

  Oh. My. God. My stomach drops into my toes and I can’t even think.

  “Jacey, he does not. He only cares about himself. I know you have acceptance issues. But you don’t need his acceptance. He’s an asshole. He’ll always be an asshole. He’s not going to change that. And isn’t he pissed that you lied about him to Gabe? I would think he wouldn’t just forget that.”

  Tony is standing now, a thunderous cloud above me. He can’t believe this shit any more than I can.

  “I apologized for that,” Jacey says weakly. “He understands that I was just messed up. That I missed my brother.”

  My head falls back and I stare at the ceiling as I count to ten, breathing heavily.

  “Mad?” Jacey asks hesitantly.

  Eight.

  Nine.

  Ten.

  I take another breath.

  “Jacey, I love you. But you’re seriously fucked up. If you need attention this bad, so bad that you would run right back to a psychopathic asshole, then you need some serious help. I love you. You’ll always be my best friend. But you’re fired. I have to have someone here that I can count on to come in when they’re scheduled. When you get your head on straight, you can come back.”

  She protests, but I hang up on her.

  Tony and I look at each other.

  “I’m sorry.” I shrug. “Sometimes you gotta use a little tough love. This is really stupid. I can’t believe she’s doing this. And I can’t even tell Brand and Gabe because they’re gone. I could e-mail Gabe, but I know he doesn’t need this shit right now. Not while he’s at Walter Reed.”

  I’ve never seen Tony as angry as he is right now, his big hands clenching into fists as he stands over me, his mouth contorted into a grimace.

  “Text her and tell her to stay put. I’m going over there to talk to her. She needs a swift kick in the ass, and I’m just the person to do it,” he tells me as he heads out the office door.

  “Don’t get into it with Jared,” I call after Tony. “He’s not worth it.”

  I jump up and run after him.

  He turns and looks at me. “Don’t worry. I’m only going to talk to Jacey. And to kick that little punk out of her house.”

  I sigh. That’s what I was afraid of.

  But there’s nothing I can do but watch as Tony lumbers out the door.

  * * *

  Gabriel

  From what you’ve described to me, you killed an innocent person who was sent to kill you in a coordinated effort to kill a hundred other people. Tell me, Gabe. Do you really feel like you murdered that girl—or all those other girls and women? YOU. Not the US military, not your unit, not the girl’s uncle… but YOU?

  I want to punch my therapist’s fucking teeth down his fucking throat. This individual session has lasted three hours today, three grueling hours.

  So far, over the last three days, I’ve had to write about what happened, talk about what happened, and think about what happened. In depth. In a way that I haven’t made myself examine it, ever.

  But this morning I had a breakthrough.

  I realized that one thing is the root of my issue. I can deal with the fact that Mad Dog died, even though I feel like I should’ve prevented it. I’ve seen other men die before and I had to deal with it.

  What tortures me the most is the thing that gives me nightmares.

  The girl.

  She needed my protection and I failed her. I killed her instead of helping her. Because I couldn’t figure out how to help in the split second that I had to make a decision.

  I failed.

  That’s the crux of it. I wasn’t trained to fail. But because I failed, people died, and I can’t get past that guilt. The girl symbolizes my failure to me.

  Once we make that discovery, Dr. Hart, my therapist, makes me talk about everything I know about her.

  Her name was Ara Sahar. The army told me that.

  She was ten years old. The army told me that too.

  Her uncle was a Taliban rebel who kidnapped her and sent her to destroy my Humvee. Yet another thing the army told us.

  She was terrified and needed my help. No one had to tell me that, I saw it in her eyes. And that’s what I can’t forgive myself for. I didn’t see the other girls and women while they were still alive. But I saw Ara Sahar.

  “Until you forgive yourself, you aren’t going to move past this,” Dr.