Page 40 of D-Day

Was any secret worth losing her?

All he knew for sure was that every moment with her had been real for him. But he was leery, ashamed to admit it even now, that somehow, she would see his unworthiness and he would feel betrayed all over again. He turned away from the window, rolling his shoulders. What he needed was a long run.

A little voice in him said caustically,you can’t outrun the truth.

He tried, as the drizzle turned to a downpour, as he ran full out on the paths behind the compound, wanting to escape not only his own faults and failings but the questions that she would inevitably ask, and he would have to answer. He could never lie to her.

The denial of his own feelings built a sense of pressure in his chest that grew and grew. It crowded against his lungs, squeezed his heart, closed off his throat, pushed hard on the backs of his eyes. He had crushed it out before, time and again.

But what he had never done, not in private, not in public, was to let it all out.

He tried to breathe, but his lungs couldn’t expand to accommodate the wet, humid air. The pressure was so great, he wondered wildly if he would simply explode.

He fought for control, but everything was bubbling up inside him, and gasping now, he ran harder, pushing himself ruthlessly as if he could outrun the demons that weren’t on his heels at all, but inside him.

You couldn’t outrun yourself.

Still, he tried to leash the fury building inside him. His whole body trembled with the power of it. He clenched his teeth against the need to scream.

He stopped, the anguish almost palpable. Shaking violently, he clasped a tree. He fell to his knees, the roots hard against his flesh. Bowing his head, he curled over into a tight ball of misery, gasping for control that seemed even more elusive.

On one level, he understood that he was unraveling, that he had finally faced that terrible memory and desperately couldn’t deny the pain that had been buried for too long. His family had done nothing but condemn him. There was no justice for him, only their disappointment, disapproval, humiliation, and cold, harsh looks.

He’d had no home anymore, and nowhere to go until he’d seen an ad for the Navy on TV. He didn’t even think about it. He left right then and there with nothing but a small bag of his belongings, the whole of his meager bank account, and got himself to the nearest recruiter, and then to BUD/S where he found his new family. His pride in digging deep inside him to persevere gave him hope that he was worth something. Then there was Wyoming, where he found his heart and the people who didn’t judge him, but just accepted him for who he was.

He pushed himself relentlessly to his feet. So much depended on him—Helen’s welfare, the fate of the whole of the Philippines, subsequently everyone in it, including his countrymen. He wasn’t going to fail no matter how his personal life was impacting his life. He would be worthy of the mission he had accepted. He would be worthy of his role and his place on his SEAL team. He had earned that, and he was proud of it. He would never let his brothers down.

He turned and ran back to the compound, stripping off his sopping wet shirt and wringing it out, then stepped back inside. He removed his soaked boots and wet socks, and to his chagrin, that sweet little woman was there, taking his shirt out of his hands, and the socks, nodding to his pants. He slipped out of them as she handed him a towel, removing the briefs. She smiled at him as if she could see who he really was, then turned and disappeared.

For some reason, that made him even more unsettled. He walked to the bedroom he’d shared with Helen, but once he got inside, he just lost it again.

He leaned his forehead against the doorframe to the bathroom, his chest heaving with an overload of emotions.

The warm touch of her hand jolted him. He hadn’t heard her come in, and he was shocked by his own behavior. He was supposed to always be aware of his surroundings. It was a huge wake-up call.

“Drew,” she said softly, simply moving against him and taking him into her arms without even a preamble.

She held him close, cradled him against her, giving him everything that was in her heart, and he choked up, his chest expanding and contracting with the pain and the realization that once this mission was over, he was going to have to go back home before he could do anything else, before he told Helen he loved her, before he told them all about his past, before he couldheal himself and be the man she deserved instead of this utter mess of shame, remorse, anger. He couldn’t hide any longer, and he couldn’t push all of this morass down anymore.

If he didn’t come back to her as the man she deserved him to be, he wasn’t going to come back at all.

13

Helen stood there,trying to be strong for him.

She had looked up as D-Day passed Taer’s room in nothing but a towel. She’d frowned, noticing that he was all wet, but when her gaze had reached his face, her heart stalled. She’d thought for a moment that he was kicking himself regarding his teammates. She was just as on edge about them out there with two warring factions, and her brother was incapacitated. And she and D-Day were trapped there until they found the triggers. Her heart had lurched at those thoughts, her instinct to help crawling through her like spiders under her skin.

She’d wrestled with herself, looking down at Taer who was still hanging on. The plasma and fluids Zorro had provided were helping to keep him alive, but once they ran out, Taer was going to pass, and Lando was going to lose it.

“What is it?” he’d asked.

“Nothing,” she’d responded. “I just need to take a shower and change my clothes. Would it be all right if I rummaged through your drawers again?” He’d smiled and nodded. “When I get back, we’ll get some more broth into you, and we’ll talk for a while if you’re up to it.”

She went to leave, and he’d reached out and clasped her wrist, his grip surprisingly strong. “I have told my brother if I die, he is forbidden from harming you. I made him promise me, Helen.”

Her throat had closed up. He might have done terrible things, but in the last moments of his life, he was trying to be decent. She’d set her hand against his shoulder and squeezed. “Thank you for that. I don’t know what your brother will choose to do if that happens, but I’m grateful for your intervention on my behalf. I’ll be back in a bit,” she’d promised.

He’d nodded and she’d gotten up, found something to wear, and left the room.

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