Page 84 of Once Kissed

Shooting? I huff.Nice.

“I’m sorry,” she says.

“I am, too.”

Her voice remains calm as she strokes my hair. “Curran…I think you have PTSD.”

“I know what I have, Tess.” I’m not yelling at her, but I am yelling at myself. Mostly because there isn’t shit I can do to stop it. My frustration is, Ishouldbe able to stop it—turn it off like a switch or something. I’m better than this. Damnit, I know I am.

If she’s mad or hurt about the way I snapped, she doesn’t show it, keeping her motions and her voice gentle. “If you know what you have, then you also know you need professional help to overcome it.”

I adjust my weight against her. “No. I can’t. It’s not in me.”

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of. Nor is it a sign of weakness. It can happen to anyone despite their strengths and preparation. Look at all the vets coming back from war, the firefighters who lived through 9/11…and your brothers and sisters in law enforcement. All of you deal with events that require physical and emotional strength beyond what most will ever face. But none of you are immune to the trauma your duties subject you to.”

“Tess, I get it. But you’re talking like a civilian from the outside looking in. I’m talking like a cop, and cops don’t talk. We keep it inside. It’s the only way to function given the amount of shit we see.”

“But you’re not functioning, Curran—not as well as you could be.” She releases a small breath. “I think that by trying to bury your pain instead of dealing with it, you’re spiraling into a very dark place.”

“Thanks.”

“I’m not trying to insult you,” she says, wrapping her arms around me. “Or make you angry. But I am telling you that I’m scared. These dreams are getting worse. I couldn’t wake you. You were screaming my name and begging me not to leave, and there was nothing I could do to bring you out of it.”

“Sorry” is all I can say.

“Curran…”

“Let’s just lie here, okay?”

“No.Please don’t pull away from me.”

“I’m not trying to.”

“That may not be your intention, but it’s what you’re doing—”

“I hesitated.”

Her fingers curl against my skin before sliding to rest against my shoulders. “What?”

I steal a glance her way. As much as she’s trying to hide it, I recognize the surprise in her face. She knows where I’m headed, and maybe she doesn’t like it. But for all I said about not talking, my mouth keeps going anyway.

“I hesitated,” I repeat. “That day with Joey, I held back.”

It’s a hard thing to admit for many reasons. Growing up, we were all talented in one way or another. And even though we made Ma proud, she’d remind us that our strengths and smarts wouldn’t always be enough to save us.You’re going to make mistakes,she’d tell us.It’s all part of being human.Man, was she ever right.

“I can shoot,” I say aloud. “Better than anyone on the force ever has. I see my target, I aim, I pull the trigger, and it’s game over. It wasn’t anything I ever needed to master. Once the basics were explained, it came naturally, like something I was born to do.”

Aim was always my thing. I rarely missed a basket when I played ball, constantly got the crumpled piece of paper in the garbage can, and won a lot of those ugly stuffed bears by tossing the rings or knocking down pins. “Some people called it a gift,” I mutter against her skin. “They said the same of how I followed my instincts. But I didn’t use either when they mattered.”

She waits for me to say more. But I’ve already said enough. I hope she’ll let it go. Instead she continues, pushing me more than I’m ready for. “You told me how you were often pulled from your duties to train the recruits. I don’t know much about your line of work, Curran. But to pull someone with only a few years on the job, your superiors must have believed in you, and considered you someone special.”

She’s listening, but she doesn’t understand. “Maybe they did. I doubt they think that anymore.”

Her arms return to my neck, her hold loving—shielding even—like she feels my pain, and maybe hurts for me, too. I don’t want her pity, but her compassion is maybe something I need. So when she asks the next question, it throws me for a loop. “Why did you hesitate?”

Right to the point. She’s not messing around. My mind wraps around the moment me and Joey found the perp—when I shone the light in his face and saw how scared and young he was. “He was just a kid,” I say, exactly like I did that night. “Another little punk on his way to prison for a stupid decision he can never take back.”

Tess’s voice softens in a way that tells me she’s ready to cry. “You felt sorry for him. That’s not a bad thing.”

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