The day after Mary left The Arsenal hospital bed for the second time was one of the best in her life. Dylan managed the impossible and kept everyone at bay. It was just her and Dylan. All day.

They rode around the ranch, and she got to whisper to Peanut and feed her peanut butter and jelly sandwiches under the pecan tree. They laughed and chased one another with squirt guns. She lost, but it was the most fun she’d ever had losing.

But playtime was over. The afternoon sun hung low in the sky, casting pale promises of its return in the morning. Promises. They urged her here, where she didn’t want to be. Group therapy.

Logan kept Doctor Parsons from knocking on her door somehow. Dylan probably helped. Either way, the day away from operations and from doctors and the confining building was more of a meaningful therapy session than she would’ve gotten otherwise.

Mary understood what everyone had been saying. For once, she took deep lungs full of clean air in and understood how stifled she’d been. Today, no one had relied on her. She’d held no one’s future in her hands. The world hadn’t ended because she wasn’t there at the computer waiting for the next demon to crawl from hell.

She’d turned Edge off and it was okay. She was okay.

She glanced at her watch and realized Dylan’s meeting with Marshall must’ve gone a bit longer than expected. She took another deep breath and pushed the double doors leading into the mess hall open. The dining area used by the Warrior’s Path soldiers and Arsenal operatives remained open twenty-four seven, three hundred sixty-five days.

Except for therapy sessions. The new rule was one Doctor Parsons enacted with Nolan’s blessing. All Dylan’s brothers were quite vocal about their support for the new therapy sessions being offered. Apparently, visiting a head shrink was synonymous with betraying your country for most of the men at the compound.

But do it in a group, as a team, and it wasn’t a problem. It was a mission. A debriefing.

Mary admitted the approach Doctor Parsons was using wasn’t what she would’ve expected. The woman sat at the front of a large semi-circle of mostly empty chairs. Three more circles were behind that one, a bit optimistic if Mary was being honest. A couple of small speakers were on the floor. A mic sat on the floor beside the woman, who’d opted for jeans and an Army T-shirt rather than the typical skirt and blouse attire she’d chosen so far.

She smiled at Mary as she entered. Mary was too focused on the room’s other few inhabitants. Mark Wells. Okay, she’d expected as much. She didn’t recognize the others. Vi ran most of the new Warriors Path entrants. Mary should’ve at least glanced at their files.

Summoning the confidence and strength she relied on as Edge, she walked into the room and took a seat near the front and center. Dylan would sit beside her once he arrived. As usual, she was a few minutes early.

This was important to him, evidence she was ready to heal and move on. Acclimate to her new life, one she’d live more as Mary and less as Edge. She’d finally understood him yesterday. There were two different personas within her. It was her duty to merge them, become both and enjoy living.

She was more than her job.

For now, she accepted the statement. Later, when the darkness seeped in, she wouldn’t. It was a cycle, a blender of emotions she couldn’t control. But that’s why she was here.

“Hey.” Dylan leaned in and kissed her cheek as he sat down. “Sorry, the meeting ran late.”

“I was early,” she whispered as she glanced around and noted more people filing in. More than she’d expected. “Did you drag them all in?”

“No. We had a briefing, and Jesse mentioned he was attending, sitting beside Edge and supporting her. I guess things sort of happened from there.” Dylan smiled.

Mary blinked, shocked by the statement. Someone squeezed her shoulder. Jesse smiled when she turned to face him.

“Hey, Edge.”

She wanted to hug him hard. She danced in her seat a few seconds. Fuck it. She swooped in, dragging him in for a firm, warm hug. He sighed into the contact and squeezed back.

“You okay, honey?” he asked.

“Probably not, but I will be. You?”

“I will be.” He smiled gently. “Gotta admit, I didn’t have the guts to walk in here until I heard you were here. I figured, what you went through, if you could walk into a room and sit down with strangers to do whatever we’re doing here, I could do the same.”

Dylan held her hand as Doctor Parsons stood and introduced herself. Then the session started. Mary wasn’t certain what she’d expected. The head shrink was leaving this first time open ended, meaning people could chat about whatever they wanted, for however long.

A few of the people who’d been there before started the flow. A few others fed off them and pretty soon people were talking it out. The doctor sat up front, listening. Quiet.

“Night time’s the worst,” Jesse added to the conversation. “The world goes still, death and darkness. That’s when my mind wanders back. It always goes back.”

“All you hear is gunfire, screams. Explosions. That’s what people don’t get. There’s isn’t any quiet. They just can’t hear,” someone commented.

“So how do you all deal? What are you doing?” Parsons asked.

“Jack off,” someone replied, earning a few chuckles.

“Television, any sound but what I’m hearing,” a man behind her replied. “A bigger rec room would help. Maybe then we could hang together, until we beat the dark back.”

When silence settled in the room, Mary swallowed back the lump of doubt in her throat and spoke. “I don’t unwind easy. I work better tense, ready to strike. Or I thought so until recently when the tension hit critical, and I snapped.”

Dylan squeezed her hand tighter.

“If you didn’t unwind, what’d you do?” someone asked.

“I kept my mind focused on something else. When the world around me went still, I solved problems. Mental gymnastics. There was always an issue needing attention. Someone needing an exfil strategy, a hack for intel to keep a team from having to go in. Counting backward, odd numbers only from 999 works when my brain really needed a rest. But I’m more geared toward that stuff. Punching stuff would probably be more fun.”

“You didn’t shut down, you just kept working on other stuff,” someone observed. “I get like that.”

“Me too,” someone commented.

By the time the discussion died down and Doctor Parsons took over, Mary didn’t feel as alone. The woman offered alternative ways to handle the night time.

“Now, I want all of you to hear me out before you balk at this final piece.” Doctor Parsons rose. “My brother was a SEAL. Six tours before he left. When he came home, he wasn’t the same man who’d left. He lost himself in a bottle, drowning out the part of the war he’d brought home. I finally talked him into getting help. I’ll be honest. None of it worked. The doctors didn’t understand him.

“I took over, hauled him to my place, and restarted. I’m not a typical doctor. I’m not going to follow established methods to handle PTSD. Each of you processes things differently. I’m a firm believer, though, that everyone will benefit from this exercise.”

She stooped over and opened a big box on the floor. She pulled out a small, black book and pen. “And before any of you smartasses ask, no this is not a diary. What’s the first thing you do when you come off a mission, any mission?”

“Debrief,” Jesse offered when no one else replied.

“Exactly.” She held the book up. “These are the manliest ones around. They’ll fit in rucksacks and withstand the abuse you’ll give them. Your mission from this point on is to debrief your day for twenty minutes before rack time. Every. Single. Day. Whatever enters your head. Write it out. Twenty minutes. You’ll do the same thing when you wake up. Every. Single. Day.”

Mary didn’t think journaling would go over with the muscled warriors around her, but she admitted the approach as a debrief held potential.

“You gonna read them all?” someone asked.

“Hell no.”

The firm response made a few people laugh. “This is your debriefing. No one will read unless you want them to. This is for you. As a matter of fact, I don’t want you reading what you write, not yet. For now, you write things down, close the book, and move on. Don’t look back, just like missions. Once you debrief, you’re done. Right? You move to the next assignment. This is the same principle. Once your day ends, or your night, you move on to the next. Debrief whatever creeps into your mind about the last twelve or so hours, then forget it.”

She stacked piles of the notebooks and pens on a table behind her.

“Now before anyone with the last name Mason mentions this, I’ve already considered the security complication here. So, treat this book like you would your weapon. These are your darkest, most private thoughts. Don’t leave them in the fucking mess hall or in the head. I want everyone to take at least three. I’ve got cases of these things. Take some for friends who may not have had the balls to walk in here.”

A few people chuckled.

“I’m leaving a case in the corner over there, under the drink station. For whenever someone wants or needs another.” She scanned the room. “If anyone here wants to talk privately, my door’s always open. If you aren’t ready for a one on one but want feedback or to share whatever, drop your notebook in the drop chute I have in my door. My office is at the end of this hall. I’ll read and comment, then return them to your secured bin. I believe you all have one.”

“Bin?” Mary asked Dylan quietly.

“Like mailboxes. We put their personal correspondence, mission briefings, things like that in there.”

Mary sat and waited as the gathered men all came forward and took several books. She rose with Jesse and Dylan when the bulk of people had left. Doctor Parsons smiled but didn’t approach. She let Mary close the distance at her own pace.

“Thanks, Doctor. I think that was a good start,” Dylan commented. 

“I agree. Thank you both, Mary and Jesse. If you two hadn’t spread word you were giving this a shot, I would’ve been alone with myself in here.” The woman smiled gently as she looked at Mary. “I’ll see you later.”

“Thanks.” Mary took a couple of the journals.

Jesse did as well. Dylan took some, too.

Mary’s gut tightened, wondering what monsters he needed to purge from his system. She’d been so lost in her own troubles she hadn’t considered how many he’d been fighting. The bitch Hailey was trouble for sure. He’d reconciled somewhat with Dallas, but had he ever let the monsters she raised in him out?

DYLAN SHOVED THE COUPLE notebooks he’d picked up into the pocket of his cargo pants and looked around. “Wells. Hold up a minute.”

Mary tightened against him.

“Yeah, boss?”

“Dallas find you?”

“I heard he was looking, but didn’t want to miss this. Sorry. What’s up?”

“We need your help with something. On the down low.” Dylan looked around, lowered his voice. “We got Driggs.”

“I heard talk about that. Glad he’s off the street. What he did to those operatives wasn’t cool, leaving them out there.” Mark looked at Mary. “You did right by them, Edge.”

“Thanks for helping,” she replied.

“Anytime.”

“Good. We need help on coverage. He’s in the detainment area, sublevel. Dallas shown you the area yet?” Dylan waited for the man to shake his head. They never let anyone down there. “Okay, find him. We need you and three men of your choosing to form a watch team. You’ll take a rotation, keeping Driggs secure.”

“Yes, sir. I’m glad to help.”

“Excellent. Find Dallas.” Dylan waited until the man headed out. “That’s all three of the ones Vi and Nolan thought the most viable. Cord’s sending their files to you, Doctor Parsons, along with several others.”

“I’ll review them immediately,” the woman promised. “Whatever else I can do, let me know.”

“Marshall wants you involved in the questioning later,” Jesse commented. “You okay with that?”

“Yes, of course. Interrogations aren’t my forte, but I’ll help however I can.”

Dylan guided Mary out of the room and toward the vehicle he had waiting. He hoped getting her away from The Arsenal for a while would help get her mind off everything. She deserved calm. “I hope you’re hungry, sweetheart.”

“We’re going somewhere?” She looked down at her jeans and snug T-shirt. “I’m not dressed for town. We went through this before, remember?”

Women. He didn’t understand why they were so obsessed with what they wore. Didn’t Mary know how beautiful she was in whatever she wore? “You’re gorgeous. Come on. I promised them we wouldn’t be late.”

“Them?”

“You’ll see.” He smiled as he helped her into the truck.

The closer they got to town, the more nervous he sensed her becoming. He knew she hadn’t had good slices of Resino yet, something he intended to rectify tonight. “Twice a year, the Burtons throw in with us, and we have a block party. Or town one rather. That’s where we’re going. I promise you’re safe. You’ll never be out of my sight.”

“I’m okay, just coming down off the therapy. Hearing everyone sharing what gets them through, what they face. It helped. I’m not alone.”

“No, far from it. Everyone on the compound brought back something from their time, a wound or an internal war. Some are nastier than others.” Dylan knew all about nasty. He and all his brothers had combatted internal wars. It’s why they’d started Warrior’s Path, to give other soldiers a leg up before they went back to civilian life.

“I’m glad Jesse was there,” Mary whispered. “Not all wounds are inflicted overseas, in service.”

Dylan’s grip tightened on the steering wheel. He wished to hell his brother would talk to him about what happened, where his head was at. “No, they’re not. Hailey hurt me. Dallas got the brunt of it, though I didn’t notice until recently. I’m gonna work through my thoughts on her, everything that went down. Write it out. I’d like you to read it, when you’re ready.”

“I’d like that.” She fiddled with the end of her T-shirt. “The stuff I write. I may not be ready to share it yet.”

He liked that she was thinking she would share it with him at some point. “That’s okay. When and if you are, you let me know.”

He smiled when she nodded. The parking was a nightmare, but he backed into a spot near one of the ranch trucks. Mary waited for him to walk around. His heart thudded wildly as he helped her down and settled her at his side. They were about to become fodder for the gossip mill.

“Should probably warn you, sweetheart.”

“What?” She tightened against him, her widened gaze roaming the area.

“Nothing that bad, but me and my brothers, we’ve never brought a woman to one of these,” he admitted.

“The entire town is going to see me, your first date to a town shindig, and I’m in ratty sneakers, jeans, and a T-shirt two days old.” She hissed the words. “You have a lot to learn about women and communication. I admit I’m not girly girl where things like my appearance mean much, but I don’t want Hailey and her crew cutting me up because I look like a bridge troll.”

The woman seriously had no clue how gorgeous she was. To hell with telling her. He’d show her instead. He pinned her against the truck and claimed her mouth. She turned soft beneath his starved kiss. Her hands settled on his hips, dragging him forward until he pressed against her full body. He slid a thigh between her parted legs and swallowed the moan escaping her.

He loved her touch and couldn’t wait until the boldness she commanded in operations replaced the hesitant slide along his body. Blood surged southward, ending in an ache he was all too familiar with when it came to Mary.

She was worth the wait.

He’d always been the patient brother, the one who’d wait his turn and bide his time. He’d been through the wringer before meeting Mary, and God knew she’d been through more than several rough turns. Sex wasn’t an end objective. For him it was an extension of something way more valuable—her emotional wellbeing and happiness.

Dylan cursed and severed the kiss as someone cleared their throat. He huddled Mary closer, wedging her between the truck and his body as he turned.

“If you’re done mugging down and giving all of Resino fodder for the mill tomorrow, I’m stealing your girl.” Riley motioned toward a bag she was holding. “One day, you’re gonna learn a woman doesn’t like these kind of surprises.”