Page 64 of Interference

Lily nudged my leg. Then she jumped up and pawed at my shirt as she nudged my hand with her head, almost costing me my drink.

One of the wives made a face. “I thought service dogs were supposed to be well-behaved.”

“She is.” I gestured for Lily to get down, and I nodded toward the sliding glass door. “She’s letting me know she needs to go out.”

I didn’t wait for a response, though I heard some snide commentary as I left the living room and crossed the kitchen. Whatever. In that moment, I preferred to let them think my service dog was misbehaving or asking to do her business than reveal she was alerting on a PTSD response. What would they think if they knew a damn hockey puck hitting a wall and their husbands laughing about it could send me into a mental spiral?

As soon as we were outside, I took in a deep gulp of cold air, which settled some of my anxiety. The day was cool, but it was pleasant, and the light chill was enough to anchor me in the present.

I sat on a bench on the back deck and just breathed. Lily jumped up, front paws on my lap, and leaned hard against my chest. Closing my eyes, I wrapped an arm around her, and little by little, my heartrate came back down.

This was a mistake. I should’ve stayed at Anthony’s place and chilled with Lily and the cats.

But… no. I just wasn’t used to social events anymore. I wasn’t used to being around people, especially people I didn’t know. Combine that with loud, unfamiliar noises, and… Well, I couldn’t say I was surprised.

And I’d be fine when I went back inside. Now that I knew to expect the sounds, they shouldn’t trigger anything. All I had to do was spend a few minutes out here, getting some quiet and some fresh air. Then I’d be perfectly fine.

Maybe I should go into the garage with them. Maybe if I can see what they’re doing and hear what they’re saying, my brain will calm itself down.

It was worth a try.

In a minute, though. I wanted to make sure I’d fully pulled myself together before I ventured back in among Anthony’s teammates. He’d been gracious as hell, inviting me along in the first place. The last thing I needed to do was embarrass him by—

The sliding glass door opened, and I shot to my feet. Lily immediately scooted closer, fully focused on me.

“It’s okay,” I told her, and petted her as I turned around.

I hadn’t expected the person joining me to be a threat. Worst-case scenario would be Simon, who’d just be a prickly douche. But I had a number of synapses still programmed for combat and homeless life, and it was impossible to convince my demons that any situation was completely safe.

It was not, of course, anyone threatening. It wasn’t Simon. It wasn’t even Anthony.

A tall blonde woman stepped out onto the deck, holding my gaze shyly. “Um. Hi.” She closed the door behind her but leaned against it, and she flicked her eyes warily toward Lily. “You’re—I didn’t catch your name.”

I swallowed. “Wyatt.”

“Right. Right. Wyatt. I’m Monica. Young’s wife.” Her gaze again darted to Lily before locking on mine. “You came with Aussie and Cars, right?”

“Uh…” It took a second, but then I remembered Anthony’s nickname. The other must’ve been Simon’s. “Yeah. Yeah, I—sorry.” I laughed nervously, stroking Lily’s neck. “I just know them by their first names.”

She gave a soft laugh as she crept a little closer, gaze fixed on Lily even as she spoke to me. “You get used to the nicknames. After a while, you almost forget their real names.”

“Kind of sounds like the military. If some of my buddies didn’t have their name tapes on their uniforms, I wouldn’t have known what the f—what their names were.”

Monica laughed again. “Okay, so you get it.” She watched Lily for a moment, wringing her hands in front of her. “Listen, I’m…” She glanced over her shoulder. “I’m not going to ask to pet your dog. I know it’s… With service dogs… I get it.” She chewed her lip. “But would you mind if I just… sat out here with you two?”

I studied her. “Uh. Sure? I guess?”

She nodded and tentatively came a little closer. She took one of the chairs from the table, brushed pine needles off the seat, and sat down, folding her hands in her lap. Speaking so softly I barely heard her, she admitted, “I’m terrified of dogs.”

I blinked. “Oh. Really?”

“Yeah.” She watched Lily warily. “I thought… Maybe if I just sat with one who’s, you know, busy…” She trailed off as more color rose in her cheeks. “I’m sorry. That probably sounds stupid.”

“No, it’s okay.” I petted Lily’s neck. “If you don’t mind my asking, did you have a bad experience with a dog?”

She nodded, laughing self-consciously. “My grandparents’ dog when I was growing up. He was really aggressive and loud.” She chafed her arms. “Scared the hell out of me.”

I winced. “That’ll do it.”

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