Page 59 of The Wrecked One

“You know my dad was in the Air Force before he switched to a civilian job with a major aerospace company in New York. He’d become a test pilot for them. But what you don’t know is that he uncovered some major safety issues with the new line of jets they were on the verge of releasing. His boss told him to keep his mouth closed because it’d cost the company hundreds of millions. But he didn’t. And when they ignored his safety concerns, he reached out to a reporter, planning to expose the truth. Before he could share the story, the attack happened. They did that to shut him up. Fucking savages.”

“Dillent Aerospace. I remember the name from when I was looking into your background trying to find you.”

My heart hurt. My stomach, too. Every limb in my body ached. A war of emotions raging inside me as I walked down this fucked-up memory lane.

“That company doesn’t exist anymore.” Her tears were slowing, and so were mine, but the pain remained. It hurt everywhere, even with her on top of me, in my arms, it still hurt so damn bad.

I nodded. “My dad left, not because they threatened us, but to take them down. He spent years obsessively working to destroy them. He found and killed the men who hurt my mother, too.” Taking in a steadying breath, I continued in a low, gravelly tone, “I’d been upset with him. Blamed him. Hated him. Never understood him until . . .” I closed my eyes. “Until that day in Thailand. Lying there, tethered to that bed, I lost it. Remembered every painful detail all over again as what happened to her nearly happened to you. It fucked with my head, and I took off. Stayed away because I couldn’t fight it. Couldn’t face it. I’m just like my dad.”

“No, you’re not.” She held my face, a plea for my attention. “You may have left, but I found you, and we’re in this together. I have your six the way you’ve always had mine.”

The desperation in her voice broke through her words, but I refused to relent and open my eyes.

“You’ve spent your life dealing with so much, burying it deep, and, from the sounds of it, not truly dealing with it. And now?—”

“Now I’ve finally snapped. The house of cards has fallen,” I admitted. I could only sweep so much under the rug before the truth would come out, and there’d be no more denying it. “I joined the military to escape my life and wound up fighting someone else’s battles instead of my own. I’m paying the price now for never dealing with everything before.” That was a heavy dose of reality I’d never understood. Not until I was up in those mountains with too much time to think.

Eyes open and on her, I found her crying again. There were dark clouds gathering, killing our clear sky. Ominous and perfectly timed.

“But you don’t have to do this alone. You don’t have to fight your battles by yourself.” She brushed her lips over my knuckles. “You have me. The team is your family, too. Please, let us be here for you.”

Some part of me had secretly hoped one day I’d be able to go back to the team, to her, but sitting on that mountain by the lake with this woman on my lap crying, I realized I was done.

“When a car is totaled in an accident, you don’t try to rebuild it. You get rid of it.” I gently peeled her hands from my cheeks, hating to do that knowing this was a huge step for her after what she’d been through, but I didn’t want to give her hope about me. “Like I said, you can’t fix me. I’m a living and breathing crash. I’m the wreck?—”

“You’re not finishing that thought,” she sputtered, stubbornly returning her hands to my face. “I can read you, too, and no. You’re absolutely not quitting on me. And you don’t need to be fixed. Helped and healed, yes, but there’s a difference.”

She was going to dig her heels in, dammit. My dad had been wrong about me opening up to her. It wasn’t pushing her away like part of me had thought it would.

The sky began rumbling. The weather had a tendency to change here fast, and I didn’t want her getting caught in a storm. Well, a physical one, at least. The metaphorical one was already swirling around us.

“Come on. We need to get you back before the lightning begins.” I hated myself for this, but I urged her to get off me so I could stand. I quickly packed up our stuff, including the trash from our lunch, and rolled up the blanket, tucking it under my arm before throwing the backpack strap over my good shoulder. “It’s time to go.” Time to say goodbye even if I don’t want to. Goodbye to the man I once was, at least.

I started walking, only stopping when I realized she wasn’t following me. With the clouds moving in, and the fast change in the weather, I was worried she was going to get cold as we walked in the shaded area back to the truck, so I removed the hoodie from the bag and brought it over to her like some type of peace offering.

Of course she rejected it, pushing it away with a shake of her head. “No.” Her shoulders jolted at the crack of thunder overhead. “I’m not your greatest fan right now. You’re trying to quit on me, and that’s not who you are. Not deep down, anyway.”

She stabbed the air, feisty, instead of sad, and it was a much more welcome sight after the pain of hearing my mother’s story. The last thing I wanted was to drag her down to hell with me. “I’m pissed at you, which means I don’t want to wear your hoodie and smell like you.”

Her shoulders jumped again as the next crash of thunder struck.

“Fine.” I went back to the Jansport and stuffed the hoodie in. It began raining as I zipped it up. Rolling my eyes, frustrated with this damn woman for being stubborn, I marched over to her, removed my hat and set it on her head, refusing to take no for an answer that time. “Come on and stop being such a pain in my ass.”

“I’m sorry for what you went through,” she said instead of countering back with one of her typical jabs. “And what your family went through. I’m so sorry that you had to almost watch that man . . . to me . . . especially after what happened to your mom.” She paused, shivering. “But you did save me, Oliver. You protected me. You were there for me. I need you to focus on that part.”

Not on the “killing someone” part.

“You didn’t let him hurt me, and I just . . . thank you. I’m sorry for how you had to . . .” Her choked-up, strained voice broke through my resolve and I wrapped my arms around her.

How the fuck could I not? She was hurting. Fighting her own demons while trying to help me slay mine. She was right, though. Deep down, I never gave up, not on other people, at least.

I realized too late I’d forged past that unspoken boundary. Forgot to ask permission before I’d circled my arms around her waist and pulled her into my arms to hug her. But she didn’t resist, and instead, hugged me back.

“I’m so sorry,” I whispered into her ear. “For everything.” Including the fact that I can’t leave here with you. I can’t go back to the team.

I couldn’t share that last part out loud. Because a small part of me clung to one last shred of hope that maybe, just fucking maybe, I was wrong.

23

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