CHAPTER 16
It was hotter than fuck. And dry. All he wanted was a glass of ice water. But if he moved, if he twitched, he’d give away their position to the enemy and they’d all get blown to bits. He still didn’t understand how they’d ended up using the same rendezvous point as the insurgents. Focused on the neck of the target in front of him, the hilt of his knife loosely grasped between his fingers, he was ready to let fly the second recognition hit the guy’s eyes. He would not compromise the mission. The figure turned and the knife clattered from his hand.
What the fuck? Dax?
Travis sat bolt up, body covered in sweat, breathing in great gasps.
Motherfucker.
He covered his eyes, still breathing in huge gulps, heart slamming in his ears.
“Oh God, oh God,” he gasped, hand shaking as he reached for his phone. “Oh fuck, pick up, pick up, pick up.” His stomach churned as the phone rang once, twice, three… four times.
“Tell me you’re calling in the middle of the night because you finally got laid.” Weston’s voice came through the speaker like a lifeline.
If only.
“No. I need the name of your shrink. The dreams keep getting worse.”
Weston’s voice became instantly alert. “How bad?”
He couldn’t tell him. No one could know how bad this dream was. He wanted to puke from it. “Killing people I know. Confusing them with former ops.”
“I’ll text you the number right off. Anything happen tonight to trigger it?”
“I kissed Elaine.”
“’Bout damn time.”
He might laugh if the dream hadn’t been so horrifying. “You know I can’t do that.”
Weston sighed into the phone. “Don’t sell me that truckload of manure. Not interested. You need to kiss her and keep kissing her until it’s okay. Or until she tells you to get lost for good.”
“Oh, that’s brilliant advice.” His voice dripped with sarcasm.
“All it is, is sensitization. Just like the horses. If kissing Elaine triggers you – kiss her more. If storms trigger you, go do a Goddamned rain dance until you can do it naked and laughing. But if you don’t believe me – talk to Doc Munger about it. All I can say is it helped me.”
His heart rate had slowed but was still racing. As long as he lived he’d never get that vision of Dax blotted from his head. “I think I’m gonna go take a walk.”
“That’s a good place to start. And Travis? This campaign is gonna be stressful. It’s good you’re dealing with this at the start.”
If this was the start, God help him when the going got tough as Weston had warned the other day it would. Still, if this was a wake-up call, maybe it was a good one. He didn’t ever want another dream like that one.
He grabbed his shirt from earlier, draped over the chair by his desk. Threw it on over his pajama bottoms and took the stairs two at a time. He had to get out of the house before the walls closed in on him. The tightness in his chest eased once he’d stepped off the porch. The moon cast everything in a pale silvery glow. Plenty of light for navigating through the pasture. He avoided his path this time, needing to focus his thoughts on where he stepped. Focusing on the unfamiliar always seemed to help drive the thoughts from his brain. He counted two rises before he saw the figure standing on the other side of the fence line.
Cassie.
Good. He needed to have a conversation with her anyway.
Judging from the way she held her body and the fact she was wearing pajama bottoms like he was, she’d had a rough night, too. “It’s the same moon over Kandahar,” he called out softly. “But the stars are brighter there.”
Cassie yelped, spinning around. “Jesus, Travis, you scared the shit out of me.” Her horse nickered in agreement and flicked her ears. “You scared Winny too. How in the hell do you do that?”
“Walk silently? How do you think?” The hard edge had returned to his voice.
She cocked her head studying him. “You okay?”
“If I was, I wouldn’t be out here. And neither would you.”
“Humor me, Navy boy.”
He laughed harshly at her jab. She had enough problems of her own, he wasn’t about to burden her with his. And she was the closest thing he had to a kid sister. He was supposed to be helping her. “Let’s just say it’s nothing that a moonlit walk won’t cure.”
“Why’d you rat me out to my mom?”
Travis cocked his head. “Who says I ratted?”
“Mom said she’d talked to you. Said you’d told her to tell me not to be late tomorrow.”
This time, he chuckled in earnest. “Your ma’s no dummy. But I didn’t rat you out.” He’d never betray her near miss, but he wasn’t above using her healthy fear of her mother to get her to show up to the Hansens’. “I might have applied a little tactical pressure though.”
“Hmph.”
His voice turned steely. “You blew me off today.” Had that really been today? So much had happened since then that his morning workout with Flipper seemed like ages ago.
“About that…” A cow lowed in the distance.
Travis placed his hands on his hips and studied the stars. “I’m waiting,” he muttered after a long silence.
“I had a nightmare after I fell asleep while on call the other night. I thought Parker was a Taliban fighter when he tried to wake me up.” She spoke so softly he barely heard her. But it registered, and when it did, he couldn’t help the sharp gasp as Dax flashed before his eyes again.
“That sucks.”
“Yeah.” She leaned her forehead into Winny, stroking the mare’s shoulder. “Surprised Parker, too. He landed on the floor. Woke up the whole unit.” She let out an embarrassed chuckle.
“You know, he may not have said it, but it doesn’t take an genius to see that Parker’s crazy about you.”
The pain in her voice echoed his own. “I don’t see why. I’m a fucked-up hot mess who can’t make it through the day without freaking out.”
So was she going to throw in the towel? Just give into it?
“You don’t have to be,” he yelled in frustration, more at himself than her, as Weston’s words fell out of his mouth. “You get to decide if your combat experiences are just a part of your story, or if they’re your only story.”
Fuck.
Weston was right. He had to get over this latest round of shit for himself. And for the sake of the town he loved. After a long while, he spoke softly. “No one ever goes on a mission solo. You’re part of a team, Cassie. And a smart warrior knows when to ask for help.”
“You know as well as I do, they’ll think I can’t hack it anymore, or they’ll try and medicate me.” Her voice was thick with worry and unshed tears. “I don’t know who I am when I’m not in the thick of it.”
And I don’t know who I am when I’m just Travis.
The awful truth of it hit him like a freight train. He might not have the addiction to adrenaline that she did, but he was no better off, hiding in his daily routine, keeping a rigid schedule. Protecting himself with rules and regulations so he didn’t have to think about who the real Travis was, outside of his chosen role as community protector. Hearing her was like holding up a mirror. Could he do the same for her? Be her mirror?
Travis pulled his gaze from the sky and focused on her. “So when you come home, you get a job as a firefighter and take unnecessary risks on the back of your bike. And you keep searching for that adrenaline high because that’s what you know.”
“But I love what I do,” she answered softly.
He nodded. “I know, I know.” He fisted his hands at his hips and looked up at the sky again. Maybe they could help each other. “Look at me. I’m no better. I went from killing machine to community protector.”
“At least you keep people safe.”
“Do I?” he asked harshly as names and faces flashed through his head. “Ask Parker’s uncle Warren or the others who died in the tornado how well I did that.” Ask my unit how well I protected them. Guilt hit him, fresh and hot as the hours after they’d died.
Did you ever get over it? Maybe that was a question for Dr. Munger. Could you ever go back to a normal, happy life? And if there was no going back, how did you move forward?
She scraped a hand over her face, nodding. “I was a coward today for blowing you off. I’m sorry. I’ll be there this afternoon.”
He grinned at her. He’d find a way. For himself and her too. “Admission is the first step to recovery. And this time, I’ll bring you myself.”
“Screw you, Travis.”
“I think the correct answer is hooya.”
“That’s hooah, Navy boy.”