Chapter 26

Wyatt

“Wyatt!” That sounds like Ruby.

What is she doing here?

Looking around, I don’t see her. I have to get to her, though. The heat will bake her soft, fair skin.

I turn in a circle, confused, trying to locate her.

“Wyatt. Wyatt, please. Wyatt!” The gunshots are fading away as her voice gets louder and more demanding. “Wyatt!”

I’m shaking. The ground feels like an earthquake is starting. Dust flies, the ground crumbles and I look down to see if I should start running.

What the fuck?

Little by little the haze of my memories lifts. I hear crickets instead of gunfire, and I smell the campfire before I actually see it.

I’m shaking because Ruby is jerking on me like a spider monkey. She would probably be climbing me if she could. She has one hand around my neck where she is pulling me towards her, yelling in my face.

Thank fuck I didn’t hurt her.

It’s like someone controls a radio dial of memories, and as Ruby’s voice came up louder the flashback dies down. Too bad my fucking sight doesn’t come back as quickly.

Sinking to my butt, Ruby follows me down, landing hard next to me.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Dropping my head into my hands, I scrub my face vigorously. My sight is slow to return. I’m buying time, just trying to collect my thoughts. This is exactly what I wanted to avoid.

I knew it would happen, but never thought ahead to it happening in front of Ruby.

Benson again. Not a shocker considering how much I think about him.

I’m never going to get over that. I’m such a fuck-up, getting him killed like that. I’ll never forgive myself. It’s that very memory that reassures me how much of a monster I really am. I’m haunted.

How does anyone ever get over something like this?

It doesn’t matter what the shrinks say. It’s hard to imagine forgiving myself in this lifetime.

Damn. My eyes are watering and each pant of my heavy breathing brings in the soothing campfire smell. I fight the tears. I can’t show her this weakness.

“I’m sorry, Wyatt,” Ruby’s soft voice by my ear helps. It takes a minute for her words to register.

Snapping my head up, I meet her gaze only inches from mine. She’s hanging on my arm, practically sitting on my lap.

I wish I could just relax in her hold. Let her hold me and just fucking forget.

“Why are you sorry?” I ask. My gravelly voice betrays my nerves, so I clear my throat, trying to pull all my senses together.

She doesn’t answer. Instead, her soft fingers comb through my hair. Her nails hit my scalp and I relax into her soothing embrace. The soft, solid feel of her next to me helps slow my breathing, too.

“I’m sorry that happened. I’m not sure what I did, but I’m sure I must’ve done something,” she explains. She still has her hand in my hair and her face is only inches from mine. “Does this happen often?”

I just nod my head. Her sympathy is not what I want.

She needs to understand that I’m not the same young guy that she knew from the past. I’m a killer.

Fucking damaged goods.

“Wyatt, did something happen? Like, while you were in the SEALs?” she asks. “Is this why you change the subject all the time?”

Her question has me pulling from her to stand. My legs are shaky as I take a step away from her, immediately missing her warmth.

Her arms drop, and she slumps onto her heels, looking at me with bewilderment.

“Ruby, all you need to know is that I’m a monster, and that I deserve every ounce of torture reliving all of this brings,” I say.

I blow out a long breath. Embarrassed, I move away and start loading the fire.

Fucking stupid ass post-traumatic stress.

I always thought I was invincible. Physically, I coasted through my service. Never shot. Not even a sprained ankle.

But coming home was an adjustment. Nightmares turned into panic attacks. Panic attacks eventually became full blown visions. Some days are worse than others, but it doesn’t seem to be improving. Yet.

Glancing at Ruby, I notice she hasn’t moved. She’s still sitting on the ground just watching me quietly.

She’s so beautiful and looks so small sitting there.

Patient and kind.

So much more than I could ever deserve.

“When I was in training, they taught us so much. We were prepared.” Looking at the fire, I think back to those grueling days. “But for all the physical training, the gun and munitions training—they can’t teach you how to deal with the death. It’s all around you, all the time.”

Ruby doesn’t say a word but when I look up, she’s moving closer to the fire across from me.

Holding her hands out to the warmth, she doesn’t say a word—just stares at me. Waiting for me to continue.

“I was an idiot. Nothing had ever been hard for me before. My life wasn’t perfect but anything I set my mind to was easy.” I laugh cynically and meet Ruby’s gaze across the fire.

She isn’t laughing.

There is so much more to Ruby than I ever imagined. It’s been a lot of years, but she isn’t like a lot of women I have run across.

She isn’t filling the air with needless chatter and pissing me off with pointless platitudes.

God fucking knows, I’ve heard them all.

Time heals all things.

Everything happens for a reason.

It was meant to be.

What doesn’t kill me makes me stronger? What the fuck is wrong with people?

“I made it. I’m alive. But I don’t feel like I’ve won.” Crouching down, I look across the fire at Ruby. “All I could think about when we were there was coming home. Now I’m home, and it seems like all I think about is being there. It’s fucked up.”

Ruby’s eyes are tearing up and that pisses me off. I’m not trying to make her cry. She’s just such a beautiful, sympathetic person.

The complete opposite of me.

“Our lieutenant was a hard-ass motherfucker. He ran us through the hoops over and over. In training they use whistles. One blast and we have to drop to the ground, hands over our ears and legs crossed. Two whistles, and we are supposed to crawl, and three means get the fuck up and run. Crawling through the mud in training, with the flashbang and smoke grenades, you could barely make out the boots in front of you. We all thought, ‘How could it get worse than this?’ We were so fucking naive.”

Poking the fire, sparks shoot up.

Quickly looking at Ruby, I try to center myself in her eyes.

The last thing I want is to have another flashback.

“I want you to understand that I’m not the same. I’ve made some awful mistakes. I’ve cost lives,” I finally say out loud. I can’t look at her anymore.

“I’m not the same either,” she says. Ruby’s sweet voice is quiet, forcing my eyes up to confirm what she says. “We have both grown up, and even though I know that my life has been boring and simple compared to yours, it doesn’t mean I’ve changed any less.”

Sweet, sweet Ruby.

She’s all I’ve thought about for so long. I’ve picked up women specifically because they remind me of her. But I don’t deserve her, and she certainly doesn’t deserve me.

“These flashbacks, they come out of nowhere. I can’t tell where I am, and I can’t control what I do when they happen. I don’t want to hurt you. What if I swing at you or choke you?”

“Have…” I cut her off quickly.

“I care about you.” Her question dies out immediately at my statement.

“You are everything beautiful and clean and wholesome. You deserve someone like that for yourself. Not a fucked-up, scarred ex-soldier with flashbacks and panic attacks.” I’m shaking my head and backing away from the fire and her.

“I don’t want to hurt you. I care too much about you to take that chance.”

And, just like that, she grimaces at me and her arms fold across her chest.