“Okay, don’t talk, then, moron and listen to me.”

“Why are you talking to me?” I ask incredulously.

“Because you’re gonna ruin your fucking life, and you’re too damn hot for that, so shut up and listen to me.” She crosses her arms over her chest and glares at me, and for a minute I’d swear I’m talking to my mother.

“Fine,” I sigh and keep my eyes on the bar.

“He didn’t come back to me until we found out I was pregnant,” she begins and then sighs. “Lost that baby, though.”

“I’m sorry,” I whisper.

“I’ve had three more,” she responds and I can hear the smile in her voice and I can’t help but hate her just a little. She’s a nice, if not way too nosy, woman, but I don’t give a rat’s ass about her kids.

“But I’m going to tell you what I told him, and then I’ll go pay attention to the other customers.”

“Oh, goody,” I respond sarcastically.

“That American Dream that y’all fight so hard for over there? The freedoms that you would die to protect? They’re yours too, you know.”

My head jerks up and I stare at her as she continues.

“You’ve earned the right to be happy, more than most of us.” She swallows and lays her hand over my arm. “You have earned her, Sergeant.”

“How did you know?” I ask but she cuts me off.

“You scream Sergeant. Or Lieutenant.”

“Sergeant,” I whisper.

She nods and glances down the bar. “Before you go home and claim her before someone else does, you need to get some help for the PTSD and get your head on straight.”

“What are you a fucking shrink?” I sneer.

“No,” she shakes her head and smiles softly. “But I know a good one.” She pulls a card out of her back pocket and slides it across the bar to me before she winks and saunters down the bar to help other customers.

What the fuck does she know, anyway?

I suddenly don’t want any more whiskey, and can’t stand the stale smell of liquor in this bar, so I throw some bills on the bar and walk away, through the crowd beginning to gather and out the door. This particular joint isn’t far from the apartment the Navy put me up in during my contract. I’ve been training SEALs near San Diego, California for the better part of three months, and the pretty bartender was right.

The contract is over.

I have an open invitation at the mercenary training center I left near Seattle, but living in Seattle means living near Brynna and the girls, and I don’t know that I could survive that.

Look how well you’re surviving down here, asshole.

I slam into my apartment and flop onto the couch, staring at the ceiling and listening to the air conditioning unit click on. It’s only May, but it’s already warm in southern California, even late in the evening.

I wonder what the weather is like back home.

I pull my iPhone out of my pocket and bring up the weather app. It’s already set to Seattle.

Sunny and mid-sixties.

Nice weather. My girls would like to go to the park in that kind of weather.

My girls.

God, I’m such a fucking mess. I chose to leave, knowing that they loved me.

I chose.

Because staying would only end up hurting them.

You’ve earned her.

I scrub my hands down my face with a long sigh and squeeze my eyes shut. I miss them. I thought it would get better with time, but the truth is, it only gets worse. Every day is it’s own special sadistic kind of torture and I’d give anything to be with them.

All of them.

I fucked up big time.

I stare down at the phone and bring her number up, along with her photo and stare down at it, my thumb hovering over the number and debate about calling her.

I need to hear her voice.

More than that, I need to feel her. Hold her close and breathe her in.

I need it so bad it hurts.

Instead of pressing the button to call, I lay back on the couch and stare at her sweet face, her big brown eyes, long dark hair, and remember what it’s like to feel her close to me while I sleep.

How safe it feels to fall asleep near her, where the nightmares stay far away, and pray it’s enough to keep them at bay because I didn’t get drunk enough to numb myself tonight.

Liquor is the only thing that numbs my brain of thoughts of Bryn and the nightmares.

***

Where are they?

“Brynna!” I scream and run through her house, up the stairs and back down again, room to room, trying to find them.

They’re screaming and crying for me.

“Daddy!” Maddie cries hysterically.

“Caleb, help us!” Brynna calls out.

Bix is barking frantically, not his alert bark, but a full out attack bark.

Glass shatters.

Gunshots.

“Daddy!”

I can’t fucking find them!

I run back up the stairs, but when I get there, I’m somehow in the kitchen. I need to get upstairs. That’s where the crying is coming from.

“I’m coming!” I yell and run for the stairs again, but when I try to climb them, I’m moving in super slow-motion, not able to move fast enough to get upstairs.

“Daddy!”

Now their cries are coming from the kitchen, but I can’t turn around to get back there.

Fuck!

Suddenly, everything is dead quiet. Even Bix has stopped barking, and I can hear quiet sobs coming from somewhere, although I can’t tell where, I just know that I can’t move fast enough to reach them.

“Daddy,” Josie whispers.

I wake with a start, gasping for breath, sweat running down my face.

Sonofamotherfucker.

I jump from the couch and run through the apartment, frantically searching, before it occurs to me that it was a dream and the girls aren’t here.

“That American Dream that y’all fight so hard for over there? The freedoms that you would die to protect? They’re yours too, you know.”

Damn right they’re mine.

They’re mine.

I pull the business card from the redheaded bartender out of my back pocket and dial the number.

It’s time to fix this shit and go home.

***

“How have the nightmares been in the week since you’ve been coming to me?” Dr. Reese asks calmly.

“I’ve only had one,” I reply and lean forward in my chair, resting my elbows on my knees.

“That’s an improvement.”

I nod and sigh. “Still not great in crowds.”