Page 77 of The Matchmaker and the Marine

“Not yet.”

“And counseling?”

He dropped his gaze. “Yeah. I was lucky. When I was in the hospital, the doctors and nurses understood what I was going through. I resisted at first, but thank God they persisted. They never gave up on me.”

“Do you still talk to someone?” Mel clung tight to his hand.

“I do, and I have Will. He encourages me to talk about what happened.”

“I’m sorry you had to go through such a horrific trauma.”

He reminded himself he still hadn’t told her the full story. “Mel, I need to tell you…”

“I understand. You don’t need to explain anything more.”

He leaned back in his chair, stopping short. Maybe it was cowardly, but she had just given him an out.

“We all have scars.” Melinda took his other hand. “Is this why you had a hard time to date? You weren’t ready to share your pain?”

“I guess. After my ex broke it off, something inside of me died. Until I met you.”

She seemed unsure how to respond, so he decided to lighten the mood. With a small smile he said, “What a way to start the day, with all this heavy stuff.”

Her pretty sea-green eyes locked onto his face. “You can always talk to me, about anything. I care about you.”

He squeezed her hand. For now, that sounded really nice. Given time, he’d hope to see this relationship develop into more, much more. “I care about you too.” He thought to himself, that was an understatement.

She pulled out her wallet. “Breakfast is my treat. You can get it next time.”

He started to protest, but she gave him a stern look, one he had seen when she set her mind to something and there was no changing it. “Besides you paid for dinner.”

“I’ll leave the tip and there will definitely be a next time. After all, we’re going to Newport in a few weeks.”

Melinda flashed him a grin. “I wonder if they make lobster eggs benedict?”

“That sounds expensive,” he teased.

“But I can guarantee you, I’m worth every penny.” With a laugh she signed her name to the slip the waitress had handed her.

Adam dropped a few bills on the table while Mel slipped into her jacket. He followed her out of the small diner. His next stop would be to talk to Will. Maybe he knew of a way to find the courage to tell her the rest of his truth.

Stacey was sitting at Melinda’s breakfast bar nursing a glass of wine, filling goody bags for the ladies attending the spa day. She and Melinda were going over the last of the details for Molly’s bridal shower.

“Has Adam talked to you about his last deployment?”

With a one-shoulder shrug Melinda said, “Some. I think he held back more of the horrific details. As I listened to him give me the condensed version, my heart broke for him and for all military people. How do they deal with that day after day?”

“Will did two tours and for the most part he doesn’t talk about it. I respect his privacy. He and Adam have times when they talk for hours about friends they lost and the innocence left behind when these men and women come home.”

“Was Will injured?”

“Nothing like what Adam endured.”

Melinda paused and looked up from the note she was writing. “What do you mean?”

Stammering, Stacey said, “You know, the PTSD.”

Melinda wanted—no, needed—to know the truth. “Stacey? Is there more to hear?”

---