Chapter Twenty

Macs

The destruction is fantastic in the most lowly, seedy way possible. The attacks were far-reaching and all-encompassing. Everyone I know was affected in some way. Martial law is being enforced by our military, the dystopian feel of it all being almost too much for even a seasoned government employee. Most days it’s complete melee anytime you turn around. There are checkpoints set up on the back roads and highways, which means traveling anywhere takes forever and it’s rarely worth it. The news is broadcast twenty-four hours a day, and the President of the United States gives weekly teleconferences from the Oval Office. It’s meant to reassure a country streaked by destruction and tainted by fear.

The SEALs are now being sent on missions unlike anything we’ve ever been assigned. We’ve been tasked to find the financiers and anyone connected to the attacks. It’s hard because we aren’t dealing with men overseas with an open agenda with guns pointed at our faces. We’re trying to skunk out our neighbors with hidden agendas, ones we would never be able to surmise. The attacks hadn’t been planned for long. Which is obvious to me, in a spot where intelligence is handed down, but America refuses to believe this wasn’t planned—or worse a conspiracy theory. When citizens are finished reveling in fear, they move on to anger. I get it.

I am a step above angry. I’m fucking rage-tastic. I want to kill and nothing is moving fast enough for my liking. My brothers have been spread out across the larger cities in the states.

“We’re headed back to San Diego, bro. You gonna call her?” Tahoe asks, grinning scarily. His face is streaked with black paint and he has a cut above his eye that was stitched by a medic with an obviously unsteady hand.

I wince. “That fucker had one job. One. That’s gonna scar,” I tell him, nodding at his gnarly gash. Our feet are dangling over the side of a chopper.

He laughs, a menacing sound. I’d hate to be on the receiving end of Tahoe’s anger. He got the gash from cocking his fist back too far before knocking someone out. He lunged forward and his head met the edge of a counter. I shake my head at the memory. Poor fucker didn’t even have the information we wanted. That’s our life these days. There aren’t rules of war anymore. Not when our nation is bleeding uncontrollably.

“Not everyone cares about being pretty,” he says. “There are those of us who care about doing our fucking job and not stinking.”

I cut him off with a hand sliced through the air. “And there are those of us who appear after the frag smoke clears like a vision of fucking perfection,” I tell him.

I give him some more imagery, mostly referencing with my guns, both types, and when he’s scoffing good and well, I stop with my daydream cocktail. He stops smiling when I do.

“I want to go see her,” I admit, looking over his shoulder at the rest of the guys boarding different aircrafts in preparation to leave. My hands shake a little on my lap and it’s why I’m so unsure about visiting Teala. “I can’t think of anything else.”

It took weeks to get my head straight after I left her. My focus should be on my job, but she’s there in every waking moment. She taunts me. She tells me I was wrong about myself all of this time. She tells me she loves me. My visions are vivid and heart punching. Teala doesn’t call me. Not even once. I suspected she would abuse the phone I gave her. I wanted her to. I merely gave the warning so I could sound like I wasn’t a complete lunatic. I mean, I was giving her government property to borrow for a spell.

“Regardless if it’s her or someone else you have to get laid when we get back home. You’re spun up like a fucking top. It’s been nothing but work…frustrating work at that for a month now. Bars aren’t open. Nothing is open. The only activity we’ll have is fucking,” Tahoe says, stretching out his legs.

Somehow I feel like he’s going to have a hard time finding a booty call during these times.

“I’ll have to leave her again,” I say. Even now, my fucking chest aches with need. With desire. With fucking love. “I don’t like it.”

Longing. I’d never had to define that word before in my life. If I wanted something I took it. Instant gratification. I didn’t know what it would feel like to have another person inside you that was thousands of miles away. The desire was crippling. I miss her scent. The feel of her bare curves on my fingertips. I miss sex. What surprised me the most was that I missed her laugh. I missed talking to her and watching her face when she didn’t know I was watching. I missed the way she could turn a conversation around regardless of what we were talking about. Her jokes. How sweat would bead along her hairline after she taught a class. The way her hair brushes her exposed shoulder blades when she wears her workout tanks. Everything about Teala Smart is what I long for.

“Who would enjoy leaving? You’re fucking crazy to get hung up on one woman.”

I’m not. I know that now. Tahoe will understand one day if he’s lucky. I smile and shake my head. “I’m fucking crazy. Yep, that’s me,” I say, reaching behind me to dig through the small backpack I keep with me at all times. I drink the rest of the water in my canteen and roll the cell phone around in my hand. I check the screen. No missed calls or messages. I grind my teeth together and punch the satellite phone number into my phone quickly, glad I memorized it before I left it in her care.

I type out several messages and delete them. What is the proper greeting after so much time has passed without interaction? I’m in more new territory. The chopper blades start up, cutting the air like razors. I hook myself in with one hand and slide my sunglasses down and over my eyes. The sun isn’t as hazy here in the mountains. I think because we’re closer to it. Some days and in some cities it looks hazy. That’s what scares me. The smoke masks its true splendor and I don’t care who you are, that’s fucking eerie.

Tahoe is playing Candy Crush on his cell phone, completely distracted by the colorful screen. I look back at the blank text box and think of Teala. Now that we’re headed back I’ve let myself think about her. I type out a rap song, then delete it again. I look out over the horizon and this is commonplace for me. It’s not for her, though. I swipe to open the camera and point it down at my ash covered boots. You can see the world underneath me, small and insignificant. I snap the photo and send it before I change my mind.

Sighing, I try to enjoy the ride. I haven’t been back to my house since I left Teala. I have no idea what I’m going back to. The neighbor was supposed to check in from time to time, but everyone is self-involved right now. Grocery stores are just now beginning to get shipments again. The economy is in the shitter. Some semblance of normal life is beginning just by proxy of time passing and fear diminishing. The hospitals are overcrowded and any place that can hold large capacities of people will be closed for an undetermined amount of time. I don’t look at the phone. There’s no way she’ll respond right away. I bet the phone is still at the bottom of the bag I left in her bedroom. It pings a message seconds later.

I lift it so quickly I almost drop it. It’s not a photo like I fully expected.

It merely says, I miss you.

I didn’t realize I was holding my breath until moments after I read her message. My mind is made up to go and visit her as soon as I land. Before I go check on my house or do any of the other million things on my to-do list. Teala telling me, using words, that she misses me, is enough to tear my plans into shreds. I’ll get over her again when I leave. The pain is something I’ll deal with if it eases hers. If she feels a fraction of the mess that I’m dealing with, it’s too much.

When I was a teenager there was a girl I was pretending to date. I was really just fucking her on the weekends and after school in the bed of my truck. She had huge brown eyes with long lashes. People use the term doe eyes too frequently. This girl, though? She was the damn definition. She looked all innocent, convincing everyone I was tutoring her in physics and then tutored my dick instead. For a month or two I thought she could be girlfriend material. I had my eyes set on BUDs and becoming a SEAL, and she wanted to go to San Diego State. Feasibly, it could have worked. I wanted her to be my girlfriend for all the wrong reasons. She could suck a mean cock and would be conveniently local. Oh, the naiveté I carried back then. When I discovered women throw their pussy at SEALs, I squashed all possibilities of Doe Eyes and commitment. Chapter closed. The end.

I want Teala for all of the right reasons. Overcoming a mindset embedded for years upon years was hard in terms of acceptance, but easy because it was her. We’re coming from the same mentality. We met on a level playing field. The game of fooling her friends into thinking we were dating was a farce. We both knew it was more than convincing her friends for a trip to Vegas. We were trying to convince ourselves we could do something hard—almost impossible. The depth this thing burrowed into my world was catastrophic. It changed me to my core. Then, the attacks changed everything else inside me. The importance of things and people shifted.

The phone vibrates in my hand and I see that Teala sent another text message. I’m back at my apartment.

I didn’t tell her I’m on my way back, but she must sense it because I reached out. I feel like an ass for not contacting her sooner. Would a quick text have taken that much of a toll on me? It’s hard to say.

We’re crossing over Los Angeles Stadium right now and the ruins are shocking. It’s black and leveled from one of the more severe attacks. Several car bombs exploded in the parking garage and underneath the stadium. It crumbled up in smoke in a matter of minutes. The air is loud out here, with the blades chopping the sky. It’s a welcome distraction for everyone.

Turning to glance behind me, I see Moose. He’s wringing his hands between his thighs while working his jaw left and right. He’s been on edge since we’ve left. Sitting next to him is Smith. And he’s a ball of sunshine and rage since he broke up with his girlfriend. No one thinks the separation will last just because of how miserable he is. Tahoe breaks the moment by cursing loudly when he loses a level on his game. I text my mom to let her know I’m safe and home and I have no idea when I’ll be able to visit and, no, she can’t come visit me, and when the standard conversation is finished, we’re landing at the compound at work.

Groups of people scurry as we arrive and others rush toward our aircrafts to help unload. When my boots hit the familiar pavement, I sigh. It’s relief tinged with grief and I think that’s how it will always be. Ignoring the buzz of everything going on around me, I find my car in the lot. When I notice blood on my jacket, I remove it. It’s not mine. I start my car and head toward Teala’s apartment, settling in for a drive that is sure to be longer than I want it to be.

Entering her parking garage made me uneasy. Noticing an unfamiliar car in one of her spots forced even more emotions to the surface. I parked in one of the other spots and cleaned myself the best I could given the circumstances. I’m still pretty filthy and could use a shower or five. Our accommodations haven’t been the best over the last few days. It’s feast of famine. We’re either staying in the nation’s finest five-star hotels or we’re sleeping in fucking dirt with one eye open. I’m told it’s part of our charm. The latter is why I just smoothed a deodorant stick through my hair and brushed my teeth using a bottle of water.

My fist is hovering over the doorbell and I’m suddenly struck with a sense of unease—the notion I should have called first. I press the button before I lose all resolve. It’s been a month, and one would assume another minute or two wouldn’t break me, but I feel as if I can’t wait another second longer. My fist is about the slam on the wood when the door opens.

It’s not her.

It’s a man I recognize from our very first dinner out. As a man she described as someone who was a patron at her studio. Yoga man’s face goes through every emotion in the book. Surprise, fear, and then confusion as he takes in my appearance and half-assed uniform. I’m wearing the camo pants, but I left the bloody jacket and hat in the car. I have on a white tee that was probably white when it was issued, but now has chosen to stay a nice shade of dusty gray.

“Hi,” the man says, finally regaining his wits.

I don’t return his pleasantries. “Where is Teala?”

He clears his throat, opens the door further, and I step through. I see her then. She’s coming around the corner from the hallway to my left. She stops cold in her tracks when she sees me.

“Macs?” she whispers, my name a foreign object on her tongue. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming home?” Her eyes turn down in the corner and I can tell the waterworks are coming and there’s nothing I can do to stop them.

I’m almost too stunned by her appearance to speak. I stutter a letter or two. “I wanted to surprise you,” I say. It’s a lie, but it’s also kind of the truth. I make a point of turning to the side to look at her male friend. “Looks like I succeeded at that.”

“You didn’t reply to my message. I wasn’t sure what to think after all this time. He’s here for a yoga class. I have a few friends coming over,” she says, realizing I’ve intruded in on her new life.

My stomach grumbles and it’s not from hunger. It’s from a fear I’ve never known the likes of.

“I’m not comfortable teaching in my studio yet, but figured it would be okay to start here at home for a class or two per week,” Teala explains using her hands.

I take another step into the room because the kitchen bar is blocking her and I want a full view. I have a better memory than most, but it never quite does Teala justice. She’s the Achilles’ heel even on the subconscious level.

The guy closes the door behind me, and I startle. I’d forgotten about him during my study of her body. I send a quick glare in his direction, and he cowers into the living room, mumbling under his breath. I’d take care of him now if I didn’t have larger things to worry about.

“Are you okay?” I ask.

She has deep, dark circles under her eyes. It changes her face drastically. Her hair is shorter. Much shorter. It looks like she took a hacksaw to it—one side more jagged than the other. She’s always had a thin frame, but what I’m looking at now isn’t healthy. “Tay-la,” I annunciate her name to get her attention.

She’s looking around the room. Anywhere but in my direction and it’s so intentional it forces my heart rate to speed. It’s been a while since I’ve had to worry about the nuances of determining a woman’s mood.

“I’m okay.” She smiles weakly.

I’m not unskilled enough to know okay is a trigger word. It’s almost never used when someone is okay.

“Do you mind coming back another day? I’m so sorry,” she says to the yoga guy, her gaze flicking to the guy on the couch.

The awkwardness in the room ratchets up a notch and I’m not used to being the interruption. I’m the interrupter.

Teala tugs the hem of her tank. She looks about ten pounds lighter? More than that? I survey her thin frame quickly so she doesn’t notice. Yoga guy leaves without another word, and I lock the door behind him, without taking my eyes off her. She reminds me of a caged animal that can’t be trusted. How did I not know what was happening? Why did I assume she was okay these weeks while I was away? She didn’t call me. No contact. The only logical assumption was she was fine. She gestures to the couch, but I shake my head.

I pinch my shirt. “I’m filthy. You don’t want me on your furniture,” I tell her.

Her hooded eyes appraise me very specifically. I recognize desire immediately.

She sits down instead. Running her hands through her hair absentmindedly it’s like a light bulb flicks on. Her hair. Her appearance. The disaster I’m seeing. If playing pretend was ever warranted, right now is when I need to make it count. I ask her what’s going on using a look. Instead of telling me, she cries. Or what I perceive as crying. No actual tears arrive.

“I can’t cry tears anymore. How fucking pathetic is that? I’ve used them all up!” She rattles on and on about inconsequential things she knows I don’t care about to avoid the truth. I recognize what’s happened straight away and my heart seizes in panic.

My body tingles from my toes all the way up to my hair. “Shut up,” I command. I’m not angry at her, but it’s going to come off that way.

Her eyes turn down in the corner and her bottom lip quivers. I run a hand over my face to keep from watching the emotions play across her features. None of them are the ones I was expecting to see right now. She’s not flying into my arms or ripping my clothes off with the desire to love me. She’s looking at me, knees pulled up to her chest like I’m the feral animal in her living room.

Tucking her hair, on the side that’s long enough to tuck, she says, “Do you know what it takes to admit he did this? That he has this control over my life without my permission?”

Her father. I’m able to piece together this disaster one abandonment issue at a time. Mix those with extreme anxiety, wait for a low boil, and watch for explosion.

Through narrowed eyes she spits, “Don’t ever tell me to shut up again.” Teala is there, in her command this time. So be it. Anger is what needs to happen right now.

I sigh, kneeling down in front of her. Gently, I place my hands around her calves. It has dual purposes. The need to touch her is fierce, but she’s so small I could snap her legs like twigs. Has it only been a month that has passed? Is this capable of happening in a month? My erratic behavior mirrors hers. I don’t know how to relationship properly and the one time I fuck up, I cause the worst possible scenario.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper.

She doesn’t meet my gaze, but her lip trembles again.

“I know you hate apologies that span multiple things, but that’s what that was and you’re going to accept because I’ve missed you.” Pushing my luck, I slide my hand up one leg and graze her face to bring a short chunk of her hair in between my fingers. I look at her and raise a brow in question. “Britney circa 07?” I ask.

She smiles, and it’s painful to watch. “Something like that,” she responds. “Oops I did it again. Maybe, One more time? I was upset and I wanted to control something. Unfortunately I saw scissors and then realized my neck was sweaty. The rest is history.” Her laugh is shallow as she runs her hands through her uneven haircut. She meets my eyes. “You know I can’t be with a man who leaves. It’s glaringly obvious.” She waits for my rebuttal, but I don’t waste my breath. What’s obvious to me is that she’s made up her mind. She continues, “Even if you come back every single time. I can’t. This right here is proof.” Teala motions to her body and face. “I’m not sleeping. Don’t get me wrong. I’m in bed most of the day, but I’m awake not thinking about anything.”

“You texted me,” I say. I want to pull out the phone and shove the text in her face.

Her eyes are wild again. “I told you I miss you. Not come to me.”

I wince. “Ouch.”

My heart is combusting with the magnitude of what she’s saying. She may not be in the right frame of mind, but my pride won’t give her another chance if she does come to her senses and realizes what she’s done.

She stands to get away from me. She walks to the bar and pours herself a glass of vodka.

“Why don’t we get something to eat?” I offer.

“He liked women. Just like you. He was a professional at leaving. It was too similar,” she explains, grabbing her hair.

I don’t know what to say or to respond with, so I ask about food again. She shakes her head and continues her explanation even though I don’t want to hear another complicated word.

“I started yoga all those years ago to combat my anxiety.” Teala laughs and turns to face me. “Fucking men helps too.” She swallows the alcohol in a few large swallows while eyeing me over the rim of her glass.

My fists are tight by my sides and it takes a lot of effort to stretch my fingers out. It’s painful. “I’m not your fucking father, Teala. I can be your daddy if that’s what you really want.” My stomach churns even as my dick hardens. “Have you been fucking other men?” I’ll still fuck her right now if she replies in the affirmative, but it will be for the last time.

Finally, she smiles, and I’m glimpsing a piece of her from weeks ago. Her mind is twisted and I don’t even care. Suddenly I don’t want to know the answer. It would change things even more. I close the distance between us in a few steps and pull her into my arms. The glass in her hands clatters to the ground and shatters. I kiss her and pure vodka sweeps my tongue. There’s no trace of her sweet breath or the sounds of small sighs. Her hands are tight around my neck as she scrambles to climb my body like a rope at the gym. It’s frantic, even for me, who sets a similar pace without realizing it. It’s never been like this with her. I let my lips slide against her neck and close my eyes when a familiar scent hits my system. Now I have something to hold on to. I kiss her neck for a few more moments, leading her back to rest her against the wall.

“Fuck me,” Teala growls. “Right now.”

I haven’t had sex with something other than my palm for a month. I want to fuck her. I didn’t expect it to be like this and I’m surprised by the disappointment. I reach between our bodies and free my cock. Teala moans when she circles her hand around my shaft and pumps. I let her feet hit the floor long enough for her to strip off her pants. I bring up the mental image of her naked body before. This isn’t the woman I’m in love with in my arms right now—she’s frail, weak, and devastated by a past come back to life. She hits her knees, and I have to remind her about the broken glass. She doesn’t heed my warning and puts my dick in her mouth after she removes my dirty pants and boots.

It feels fucking amazing. Then I reach down to guide her with my hand in her hair and I’m spiraling back into reality. When she stands up, her shins are covered in cuts and blood. I clear my throat to bring her attention to the issue, but her mind is only on one thing until her phone rings and she tells me she needs to answer it. Teala is all over the place and I realize I’m just riding some foreign wave at this point.

It’s her friend Carina on the line and I listen to her play nice with her friend for several minutes. She’s different. Normal. After she hangs up, I fuck her against the thick panel of glass. She clutches me as I thrust into her. I don’t have to think about my grandma on a cold wet day to prolong coming. I merely have to think about the woman I love to keep my orgasm at bay. Figures move in the building across the street and it draws my attention, distracting me even further. Teala is screaming out in her release, her fingers laced in my hair and her teeth lightly grazing my shoulder and neck. I come by proxy after several more thrusts.

She collapses against me and makes no move to slide down, so I hold her, her weight light in my arms.

“I missed you so much,” I whisper. I still miss her.

I walk her over to the bookshelf, far away from the broken glass, and set her down. Blood and come are mixing down her legs in a streaking pattern an artist would love.

“Fuck,” I say, closing my eyes and shaking my head.

“It’s just a little blood,” she says, grabbing her pants from the floor and cleaning her legs in a few swipes. “Never seen it before?” Teala smirks.

I don’t return the gesture. Blood isn’t the issue. I can wear it from head to toe for Halloween.

“Can I use your shower?” I ask.

Teala nods quickly, her gaze darting around the room like she’s not sure what to do next. I don’t want to be in front of the windows anymore.

“You really should get curtains in here or something,” I mumble, heading into the guest bathroom.

Turning the knobs, I let the water get hot and stare at myself in the mirror. What the fuck am I doing? Showering and leaving. I get in and take my time, enjoying the hot water—a luxury I haven’t had as of late. I know when Teala enters because she makes noise wherever she goes. At least that’s the same.

“Did you know sloths aren’t the sleepiest animal? They only sleep for like ten hours a day. There’s a snail that can sleep up to seven years.”

That fucking sloth picture isn’t going to make me smile today. All of my friends participating in a Bukkakalypse wouldn’t make me smile today.

I rinse my body, crank the water off, and slide the door open. “You can’t blow my heart open and then give me random sloth facts, Teala. That’s not the way this works.”

She swallows hard. “Blowing loads, not hearts, Macs.”

I lose all the oxygen in my body in one giant rush and get a little dizzy and dark for half a second. When I gain composure, I raise my brows. “That’s it then? I fucked away your issues for the time being and I’m free to go?”

She bites her lip as she looks in the foggy mirror and uses her hand to clear a portion. “This happened when he left, too.”

“I am not your fucking father,” I scream. “I’m a goddamn Navy SEAL. With a job that takes me away. I don’t leave for bitches with wet pussies. I leave because it’s in my job description.”

Teala winces.

“I’ve never given you any reason to think I would do anything to hurt you. I’ve never done anything to indicate I would never come back to you.” I step out of the shower and grab the towel she’s holding out for me. Seething doesn’t describe how pissed off I am. I’m mad at myself for breaking my own rules.

“I gave up an entire life for you,” I yell.

Her eyes widen briefly, but then she shrugs and draws a heart in the steamed mirror. “You shouldn’t have.”

I’m going to break something. Anything. The urge to throttle her rises and I get the fuck out of that bathroom as quickly as I can. “I can’t believe this is happening,” I mutter to myself. “You’re fucking crazy, Teala. Crazy.” I hop into my dirty clothes quickly and rub the towel on my hair so it doesn’t drip. I laugh when I glance at the mess by the bar. Water is the least of the problems right now.

“Where’s your mom?” I ask when she ambles in to watch me.

She’s still naked and dirty. Teala looks through me, her big gray eyes searching for something she’ll never find.

“She’s out shopping now. She’ll be back,” she explains.

Rushing past her, I peek in the guest room and I’m relieved it does look like her mother is staying here with her.

“I’m not a child. I can take care of myself.” She rustles around in a laundry basket next to her, searching for something to put on.

I nod. “Looks like it.”

She seems unperturbed by my subtle dig.

“Do me a favor. Don’t text me anymore. It’s obvious you don’t want anything of substance from me anymore and that’s fine, but I won’t be your boy toy. I can’t.”

She crosses her arms across her chest and leans against the wall. She’s donned a new pair of workout pants. “Fine.” Crossing one foot over the other draws my gaze to the blood oozing through the fabric. “A relationship that began on false pretenses was never going to work out. You know that as well as I do.”

“We’ll never know now, will we?” I clap back, smiling wide, sending dimples and suave charm all up in her business. I’m pleased to see it still affects her. “You’re your own worst enemy. Get help. Please.” You can’t save someone who doesn’t think they’re drowning, doesn’t admit they need a life vest. I have to watch her sink, knowing the powerlessness I feel is preventable…by my own fucking hand.

“You’ve helped me. You could help me again,” she says, licking her lips.

I don’t answer her right away. I can’t. Because my fucking heart wants to take whatever she’s giving, but my mind knows better. The truth is staring me in the eyes.

“The world basically ended. Don’t tell me I’m crazy. Don’t tell me I need to talk to someone,” Teala rattles on as she sweeps up the bloody mess using a broom and dustpan.

With anger subsided, I try a new approach. “Yes, everything is different. The world didn’t end. I’m working on fixing it. A lot of people are. I know someone who you can talk to,” I tell her. The Team psychiatrists are probably overworked right now, but Teala needs help. Desperately. I keep my tone soft as I explain how I could take her to see someone, but she shuts down when I mention leaving again for another mission.

“I see it in my head anytime I shut my eyes, Macs,” she says.

“The attacks?” I ask. I keep my distance. Her gaze is fixed on the floor.

She shrugs. “Kind of. Mostly you leaving in the midst of it. I stayed at my mom’s for a while, but I wasn’t getting better. I figured if I tried to pretend my life was normal and came back here life would improve. It did for a little while.”

We’re getting somewhere.

“You knew what my job was. From the get-go. Before you told me how you felt about me. I was always going to leave. One way or another I was going to leave.”

“You forget I’ve never done this before, Macs. Let alone with someone who leaves for a job.”

I suck in a deep breath. “I can’t change that.”

“And that’s why we won’t work. I wish I were a stronger person. I’m not. Maybe one day I’ll change.”

I shake my head. “I won’t be here then. I’m here now. This is it.” I raise and lower my arms.

“Then go,” she whispers. “Solve this for both of us.”

“Fuck you, Teala. I don’t need anything solved for me. I came here thinking I was going to see my girlfriend. Assuming I was going to make love to the woman who I’m in fucking love with. The woman I’m fucking crazy about,” I shout, my hands again fists by my sides. “I did get crazy. I’ll give you that much.” I snarl a breath and rake her body from head to toe in disgust.

She scoffs. “Awww. Is this our first real fight? Fuck you back. I am crazy. For thinking this would ever work.” She smiles, but I see the overwhelming sadness below the surface.

I shake my head. There’s no reasoning with her.

“I’m not leaving because you told me to. Or to solve anything for you. I’m leaving because I love and miss my girlfriend. And she’s not here.”

Teala collapses on the floor. I grab my shit, then turn to look at her. She’s crying real tears now. I get the fuck out of there as fast as I can.

I run into Viola in the hallway as she’s blowing out of the elevator, her arms full of bags. One look at my face tells her everything.

“She’s talking to someone, Macs. I’m so sorry you had to see her like that.” She speaks of Teala like she’s a ten-year-old. Not a grown adult woman. She explains how the attacks triggered repressed memories and emotions. How the doctor thinks she needs time to sort through her issues. In the meantime we’re supposed to let her cope in any way she sees fit. What does that mean? Let her fuck her way through the remnants of San Diego?

I listen to Viola talk. I do. And I even try to pay attention and let her words sink in, but I’ve already made the decision to cut ties. It’s not for selfish reasons. Not because I couldn’t handle seeing her like this. I’m a strong man. I’ve buried more friends and brothers than I can count. Men have died whilst staring into my eyes.

I’m turning my back now because what if this is her forever? I’m not ignorant to the way things like this work. Quite the opposite. I’ve seen it too much: insomnia, mistrust, agitation, emotional detachment, self-destructive behavior. Many times it doesn’t go away. It changes people down to their fundamental core. Viola is in tears as she explains how she watched it happen. How Teala got out of bed one day and wasn’t herself.

I cut her off. “Viola. I’m sorry you have to deal with this. And as sad as it is, I can’t stay around to watch it unfold. If I’m the trigger, me being around isn’t going to help her. I’ll be the reason for her grief personified. She made it quite clear about her feelings for me.” My tone is even, stoic, utterly terrified. Not for myself, either. For Teala. “I’m so sorry. She doesn’t want my help. She doesn’t want anything to do with me.”

“Don’t apologize. I understand completely.” Her smile reminds me of the genuine one Teala wears after she tells a joke. A lump forms in my throat.

I sigh, unable to keep my fucking mouth shut. “Keep me posted on how she’s doing? I’ll be in town for a bit before they send me away on another mission. I know everything is twisted, but if you need me. Call me. I can’t see her, though,” I say, wincing. I swallow hard. “It’s too hard.” I want to fuck her. And throttle her until Teala comes back. “For her,” I explain when she looks upset.

She shakes her head. “You realize you’re doing what she thought you would. Her worst fear realized. The scenario she concocted in her mind is coming true.” Give her something to actually be upset about then.

Teala. Teala. Teala. No one understands I witnessed a fucking nightmare. One that will haunt me for the rest of time. This is what happens when you fall in love with fire and life douses it with water instead of gasoline.