Page 16 of Healing Bonds

The only difference between us was that the woman sitting in front of me hadn’t seen the horrors that still played in my mind on repeat. She never had to make a split-second decision on whose life was more valuable. She would never understand the grief and guilt that I would carry to my grave.

How did I explain to the woman that I loved the most on this planet that going to bed at night terrified me more than any horror movie I could ever watch?

How did I tell her that there were days—weeks even—that I had permanently blocked from my mind, and there were others that, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t get rid of? I couldn’t forget the faces of my victims. I couldn’t forget the screams of my brothers when we got caught by a bomb or the time we were ambushed.

She may have looked at me now and saw my scars and accepted that I was not the same man I was six years ago. With a bullet wound on my right shoulder, my left wrist covered in long, red, jagged scars from having to be reconstructed after the enemy had broken it with his combat boot as he held me downand shot my right shoulder. I knew by now she’d seen my slight limp from my latest injury.

Would she accept me once she knew what I did? Would she accept the man I was today after all the lives I’d taken?

Fear settled in the pit of my stomach, and I sank down to the floor next to the couch, watching her eyes follow my every movement. Her body stiffened at my reaction, the blanket pooling around her waist as she tried to sit up and reach for me, but I shook my head, and she stilled.

Her eyes, a complete reflection of every emotion passing through her, shone with worry, and I hated myself a little more for putting it there, but still, fear paralyzed my body, and I felt weak.

I hated showing weakness to her.

“I don’t know where to start, Amber.” She sucked in a loud breath, and I couldn’t look at her. My eyes were fixed on the carpet beneath me. “Celine doesn’t know about this either. I didn’t want either of you to know.” It was Celine’s turn to make a soft noise from the kitchen table, but I couldn’t tear my gaze from the carpet. I didn’t want to see what they were feeling all because of me.

“Who knows, Ryan?” Amber whispered, inching closer to me, her breath warm as it brushed against my cheek.

“Ace.” I could feel the anger rolling off her in waves as she finally sat beside me on the ground, the blanket falling in a heap at our feet. Her cold fingers grasped my face, and I had no choice but to look into her big, shining emeralds, her lashes dripping with silent tears.

“How long has he known?” Celine hadn’t moved from the table, but her soft voice floated through the air easily. I couldn’t focus on anything besides Amber’s big eyes, all her pain and pity slicing me open.

I struggled to swallow the lump growing in my throat, and I coughed, trying to give myself time—time to come up with an answer they would both like.

But I was out of time, and neither the woman in front of me nor the one at my kitchen table were going to like what I had to say, regardless of the way I phrased it.

“Since he came back.” I closed my eyes when I saw the anger surge through Amber’s face. Celine sucked in a deep breath, and there was a loud gasp in the ever-growing silence.

“You’ve been keeping secrets from me for five years, Ryan?” Amber choked on her words, emotion clogging her throat, yet I couldn’t move. I couldn’t pick up my fucking arms and wrap them around her. I couldn’t fix this. How would I even begin to fix this? A simple hug and an ‘I’m sorry’ wouldn’t work.

I’d broken her trust in me.

“Ace hasn’t said a word in all these years.” Opening my eyes, I saw the pain in my little sister’s eyes as she came closer and sat on the couch, hands clutching at her necklace, fiddling with the chain. Her chest rose and fell quickly as she sucked in each breath, and her eyes filled with tears. “What else is he keeping from me?” Her blue eyes, filled with so much sadness, fixed on me.

Amber grabbed my arm, her nails biting into my skin as she shook me, begging for my attention, her eyes wide, mascara running down her cheeks in black tears. “How could you lie to me all these years? I tell you everything!” she wailed, her body trembling as she continued to shake my arm.

My own anger flared at her statement. She had been keeping secrets, too. She changed a lot in the last year. “I’m not the only one who kept secrets, Amber.” I finally found the strength I’d been looking for and glared down at the wild woman sitting beside me.

If she were a cartoon, her hair would have been on fire with smoke flaring out her nose, but alas, the glare she shot me was enough to know I’d provoked the wild girl I fell in love with.

“How dare you?!” she screeched. I resisted the urge to wince at the loud volume of her voice. “You were gone for an entire year, Ryan! How do I tell you everything going wrong in my life in a fucking letter!”

“You can’t put all the blame on me for keeping secrets here when you did, too!” I shouted at her.

Amber shot up and started pacing the room, arms crossed, red hair swishing back and forth as she stomped around the small space. Celine and I watched her, waiting for the explosion. Because there would be one, and it was going to be ugly when it did happen.

She stopped suddenly and turned to glare at me, so much anger and anguish in her expression. I wished she would just hit me. At least then, I would have a reason for the growing pain in my chest. She opened her mouth and then closed it, squeezing her eyes shut. She suddenly began shaking, and I couldn’t move fast enough.

“Make it stop … please!” Suddenly, she was desperately tugging at her shirts, her nails scratching at her neck and chest, her face panicked. “Fuck, Ryan, make it stop!” she sobbed, her legs wobbling before she collapsed in a heap on the ground.

I rushed over to her, not knowing what to do, and Celine stood beside me, biting her lip, nervous and confused. Bending over, I tried to pick her up, and she shrieked. “Don’t touch me! You secret-keeping son of a bitch!” She scooted away from me, her eyes darting between me and Celine, hands still clutching at her neck. I focused on her rapidly rising and falling chest, praying she wasn’t having another panic attack.

“I can’t help if you don’t let me, spitfire.” I squatted and inched closer to her, using the old nickname I gave her years ago.I was trying my best to be soothing. She was panicking, I knew it in my gut. Her world was falling apart, and I had no idea what happened while I was gone, but her entire existence had shifted while I wasn’t home to help her.

She stilled, and I saw through her panic and her anger that she was just scared. “Stay away from me,” she whimpered, causing my heart to shatter in my chest. How did we come to this shit?

“I’ll tell you everything, both of you, just—please let me hold you, baby. Let me fix this,” I begged her. I couldn’t stand seeing her like this, and I hated that I was the cause of it.

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