Chapter 11
Jace
“What’s going on?” I ask Cole as he collapses down in the chair beside me. “Is this little guy coming out tonight or is Rylee going to suck him back up there?”
“Fuck me,” Cole grunts. “You sure do have a way with words.”
“Call it like I see it,” I shrug.
He rolls his eyes but eventually answers. “She’s apparently in active labor,” he says.
“What?” Luke grunts from my other side. “What the fuck is active labor? Isn’t it either you’re in labor or you’re not?”
“Don’t fucking ask me,” Cole says as Cami rolls her eyes at our conversation. “All I know is that this baby will be making his appearance at some point over the next few hours.”
“Shit,” I say with wide eyes. “He’s coming tonight?”
A smile takes over Cole’s face and I see nothing but pure pride. “Yeah, man. He’ll be coming tonight.”
I know I’ve had nine months to get used to it, but I still can’t believe this guy next to me is going to be a father. I mean, he’s going to have this tiny version of himself to keep alive for the rest of his life. It sounds daunting, but I want it too. I’ve never been so fucking jealous in my life.
“Cole,” I hear being screamed from the opposite side of the wall from a very cranky woman who sounds like she’s being murdered from the inside out. “Get your ass in here before I tear you a new one.”
“Shit,” he cringes before flying out of his seat. “I think she’s going to kill me before I get to meet this baby.”
With that, he disappears back through the door, leaving the rest of the bridal party sitting here, anxiously waiting for the arrival of the first Rebels Advocate baby.
Today has been one of those days that I’ll never forget for so many different reasons. A shit load of good ones, and one hell of a bad one. There was seeing the woman of my dreams walking down the aisle and making me realize just how badly I wish it were us. There was telling her that I love her, even though I just happened to be screaming at her in the process. There was seeing one of my best friends getting married, and of course, dancing with Cami after I’d been longing to touch her all night. The little touches throughout the day simply weren’t enough, and quite honestly, I’m still not satisfied. I always need more.
The big bad one. The thing I haven’t been able to stop thinking about is that she fucking pushed me away. Not once in the last two years has she ever pushed me away, and to be honest, I didn’t like it one bit. It fucking stung like nothing I’d ever felt before.
I’m always the one doing the pushing away, but when the tables are turned, it fucking sucks. I don’t know what she was talking about, though. Thinking that she’s some pathetic love-sick girl. She couldn’t be more wrong. Then assuming her friends must think poorly of her. I swear, if anyone ever had a bad thought about her, I’d crush them.
I shouldn’t be getting so riled up about it. After all, this is what I’ve been trying to achieve with her. Don’t get me wrong. I don’t want this, but in order to keep her safe from me, it’s necessary. I mean, what if I blacked out and went apeshit on her? I’m a fucking trained soldier and she’s a petite defenseless woman. She’s not a big hefty guy like my father. I put him into a coma, imagine if that had been her. I would have killed her for sure.
I can’t put her at risk like that. If I ever hurt her... Fuck, I couldn’t live with myself.
Out there in the darkness tonight, she said things to me that tore my soul apart. I know I had hurt her by answering her all or nothing question with nothing and I deserved to be yelled at and so much more.
She made me come to a realization on just how unfair I’ve been to her over the last two years. I mean, I should never have drawn her back in after the first time I pushed her away, but she’s intoxicating. She’s my drug and I can’t live without a hit.
The first time I had broken her heart, I should have completely let her go. I should have back the fuck off and allowed her heart to heal, but I couldn’t stand to see her hurting, so I drew her back in and put the pieces back together. She shone like the fucking sun after that… then I crushed her again, and again, and again.
I’m a fucking monster. I’ve done nothing but tear her down over the past two years. She deserves so much better than this bullshit. She deserves the fucking world. I can’t even give her happiness for one night.
She had told me she was miserable on her trip and that killed me the most. She’s been talking about traveling since the day I met her and when she finally did it, she didn’t enjoy it because of me. It’s just another thing to add to the list of things I’ve taken away from her.
She sits across from me in this narrow waiting room while we listen to the sounds of Rylee’s pain on the other side of the wall. I haven’t been able to take my eyes off her, not since she walked back into the party looking like a whole new person.
I didn’t dwell it on long as Rylee had doubled over in pain, but now sitting here with nothing else to look at except for her, I see a determination to have absolutely nothing to do with me. It’s what she needs, but I hate it.
She deserves the truth. If this really is the end and I’ve put her through two years of suffering then she deserves to know why.
I sit here, leaning back in my chair, trying my hardest to get comfortable in this ridiculous hospital chair when the sound of Caden’s phone blasting into the quiet room has all eyes turning towards him. He digs his phone out of his pocket and looks down. “It’s Xander,” he announces before answering the call.
I feel bad for Xander and Charli that Rylee kind of stole their thunder, but it happened right near the end of the night and I have a feeling Rylee had been having contractions the whole time, putting it off as long as possible and only making it known when she physically couldn’t handle the pain any longer. I mean, she was dancing with the girls all fucking night. She’s either an incredible woman or an incredibly stupid one.
Xander and Charli had sent us all on our way to be here for Rylee as they partied the night away with the rest of their guests, promising they’ll drop in a little bit later to see how she’s going, and probably hoping they can cast their eyes on this little baby boy before they head off for their honeymoon.
As Caden talks to Xander and fills him in on every tiny detail, my patience runs out. “Hey,” I say quietly. All eyes fall on me, but they all know there’s only one person I’m talking to right now. Cami’s eyes finally lift to mine after hours of torture. She just sits there, silently waiting for whatever it is that I need to say. “Can we talk?”
She doesn’t answer for a moment and I see her mentally going through all her options. Her stare digs straight through my eyes, right down to my soul and I silently beg her to allow me a few minutes to come clean.
After what seems like an agonizingly long wait, she finally nods her head ever so slightly, that had I not been watching her so closely, I would have missed it.
Cami leans forward in her seat and works on slipping her heels back onto her feet, though I don’t miss the nervousness radiating out of her. I push up out of my seat and step across the narrow hallway to offer her my hand. Naturally, she doesn’t take it as she gets to her feet and crosses her arms over her chest, probably giving them something to do so they don’t end up clutched in mine.
I lead her outside the hospital and drape my jacket over her shoulders, though this time she’s cooled off enough to actually slip her arms into the sleeves, but that could also have something to do with the fact that it’s past two in the morning and it’s fucking freezing out here.
We walk in silence until we come to a bench and she takes a seat, not once lifting those mesmerizing eyes to mine.
I sit down beside her and want nothing more than to reach out and pull her to me. I have no idea where to start and quite honestly, the thought of coming clean to her is almost enough to make me sick. I can’t imagine what she’s going to think of me after this.
But first things first. “Are you ok?” I question, needing to know what kind of damage I’ve caused today.
She gives me a blank look. “You know damn well that I’m not ok,” she tells me. “What do you need from me, Jace?”
She waits patiently, but I know that patience will eventually wear thin, so I let out a breath and prepare myself to be vulnerable. “I’ve never told you what happened with that roadside bomb,” I tell her.
Her eyes widen and she glances over at me in shock, completely unsure where I could be going with this and why after all this time, I’m finally saying something about it. She still doesn’t say anything, but I see the curiosity in her eyes.
“As you know, I was stationed in Iraq with Luke. We had been on a routine check of the surrounding areas when the bomb went off. It happened so quickly. Both Luke and I were thrown from the truck and all I remember was how loud it was.”
“You’ve told me this,” she tells me.
“I know,” I say. “Just listen.”
She nods her head and looks down at her hands in her lap. “I must have blanked out because one minute I was on the ground and the next it was Luke’s voice screaming for me to get up. I could hardly move, but the fear told me something was coming.”
With that, her hand comes down on mine and she laces our fingers together, but she still doesn’t look at me.
“I remember opening my eyes, but my vision was blurry from the explosion. I had to blink a few times and that’s when I noticed the pain in my leg. It was like nothing I’d ever felt before, but I didn’t get a chance to look at it because gunfire started around me. Later on, I’d found out that I had a piece of glass lodged in my leg that had to be surgically removed.”
“I was so disoriented from the blast that I couldn’t figure out where the gunfire was coming from. Luke’s voice was drowned out by the noise and I had no idea where the rest of the boys were or if they were even alive, but I knew that I was right in the center of it all.”
“I couldn’t move my fucking leg and my gun had disappeared somewhere in the explosion. I had no choice but to roll onto my stomach and crawl to find cover.”
She gasps as her hand clenches in mine, clearly not liking where this story is going. “All I could find was a piece of burning metal to cover me from the rain of bullets and that’s when I could finally gauge what the hell was going on.”
Knowing what’s coming, I try my best not to get lost in the story and only give her the hard details, only the shit she needs to know. I don’t want her going away from this thinking too much about it and being scared. “It was our five against their seven with us suffering all sorts of injuries and concussions. Hell, we were fucking lucky that Luke and Big Mack still had weapons, but we didn’t have much. Bullets were running dry and they were gaining ground on us.”
“I felt fucking helpless, Cam. I was a sitting duck and I couldn’t do shit to help them.” I let out a sigh. This is the part I’ve never talked about it and this is the part that haunts my dreams, even five years later. “I had this one bastard sneak up on me. He was a nasty piece of shit and grinned at me as though I was some sort of trophy.”
I hang my head as I recall the memory. It was fucking nasty. He had no bullets as I’m sure if he did, one would have pierced straight through my skull. He had a knife though, and that bastard had a great time digging into my hip and thigh. I was so fucking lucky that he missed the artery or I would have bled out.
Even while only having my upper body working, I tackled the knife off him and slid it straight through his ribcage. I’ll never forget it. That one memory was enough to destroy me.
“It was kill or be killed,” I tell her, not wanting to divulge on the finer details.
“No,” she gasps as a tear falls from her eye.
I can’t help myself. I reach across and wipe the tear off her cheek. “Don’t cry for me,” I tell her. “You’ve already shed enough tears for me.”
She doesn’t respond, just sits there waiting for me to continue as she senses I’m not quite done yet. “When I got home, I started having these ‘episodes’,” I tell her, making her finally turn towards me. “I would just black out and come to a few minutes later with no recollection of it. I was dealing with it and just assumed it was some sort of effect from losing consciousness in the explosion, until three years ago,” I say, stopping to take a deep breath. “I blacked out and when I came to, I was kneeling over my father with bloodied knuckles. I nearly killed him, Cami. I put him in a coma for two months.”
I hang my head, completely ashamed of my actions. Even three years later I’ve never been able to forgive myself, even though my father has.
“Jace,” Cami whispers as she throws herself into me. “Why have you never told me?”
“How could I?” I ask. “I couldn’t let you know what a monster I am.”
“You’re not a monster,” she tells me before going quiet. I see the wheels in her mind turning as she tries to work something out. “This is why you push me away,” she says with understanding. “You think you’re going to do that to me.”
I don’t respond, but I don’t have to. The answer is written all over me.
She shakes her head and I can’t quite figure out her reaction.
“I’m sorry,” I tell her. “I just… I couldn’t live with myself if I ever hurt you.”
“Have you ever seen someone about it?” she questions quietly. I shake my head and the action has her jaw clenching together. “You’re a coward,” she accuses.
I’m thrown back. “What?” I grunt in disbelief.
“You heard me,” she demands while getting up and facing me. “You’re a coward, Jace King. Yes, this awful thing happened to you. You went through something that I can’t even comprehend and that alone kills me, but now, you’re suffering from these ‘episodes’ and you haven’t done anything about it. I’m no doctor, but to me, it sounds like some sort of PTSD which there’s all sorts of help and remedies for. There’s therapy or medications. I don’t know, there are probably hundreds of things that could help and you’re not doing any of them. That tells me you’re a coward.”
“Wait a -”
“No,” she cuts me off. “You’re a coward. You’re using this as an excuse not to be with me, but you don’t want to be. Not really. If you did, you would have tried something. You would have gone to see someone and worked out if there was some kind of way to get better.”
“Babe, it’s not like that.”
“It’s exactly like that,” she says, calling me out. “I’m sorry you went through hell in Iraq and I’m sorry you were forced into such an awful situation that’s clearly haunting you in some way, but you have this opportunity to help yourself and you’re not taking it. I think you pushing me away to keep me safe is only part of the issue. I think you’re punishing yourself for your dad.”
“You think I’m punishing myself?” I question in disbelief.
“Yeah, I do,” she says. “I think you don’t believe that you deserve happiness. And honestly, I’ve never been so disappointed with you.”
With that, she turns on her heel and walks away.
Well, shit. That didn’t go how I thought it would.
I sit here in shock. I mean, am I punishing myself? I’ve googled my symptoms a million times and I know for a fact it’s PTSD, but not once have I reached out for help. I know I haven’t forgiven myself, but that’s not the same as punishing myself.
I’m not with her because I’m terrified that I’ll hurt her, but then she’s right. Had I found help, the whole issue could have been handled and I’d be free to be with her. I would never have had to hurt her which would mean I’ve broken her over and over again for nothing.
Fuck. She’s right. Why is she always right?
I sit here, on this damn bench for what feels like a lifetime before the chill in the air gets too much for me to bear. I head back on inside and find her sitting right where she had been before.
Nobody looks up as I walk in and nobody questions where the fuck I’ve been. I just silently sit back down in the seat I had vacated earlier and with my mind an absolute mess, I wait as our friends work on bringing a life into the world.