Page 109 of Cowboy SEAL Homecoming

“If this is you happy, happy is killing you,” she interrupted. “I’m worried about you, and I’ve kept my mouth shut for days. More and more every day because I didn’t want to rock the boat, but the boat is sinking.”

“I’m not following.”

“I’ve been reading up on PTSD.”

He jerked like she’d punched him, got to his feet violently. “Hell no. You’re not going to internet psychoanalyze me.”

“That’s not what I’m doing,” she said, trying to stay calm. Being calm and rational would keep him that way too and maybe she could get through to him. “I just wanted to know what the key side effects were, so I—”

“I don’t have PTSD. I don’t have anything wrong with me. I went through all the military shrinks, Becca. Cleared to be a civilian. Mentally. Physically. My knee hasn’t bugged me in weeks.”

“I’m not worried about your damn knee. I’m worried about you.”

“Well, I’m fine. There is nothing to worry about. Whatever little…issues are left over will be fine. I just need to finish the bunkhouse and—”

“Please tell me you don’t actually think that.”

“You’re right. I don’t,” he said, folding his arms over his chest in that military leader position where he stared down at her like she was beneath him. “I know that. This is a transition. Leaving military life and moving back home and not having Dad here, it’s a lot of stuff. But I’m not fucked up because of it.”

“PTSD is not you being fucked up, Alex.” Why was he so deliberately misunderstanding her? Why was he so deliberately being an ass? “It’s a very natural and common—”

“It’s bad enough you’re bringing a shrink here, and maybe I’ll have to take this kind of shit from her, but I will not take it from you.”

“Well, I don’t want to take this shit from you. I’m not going to sit here and pretend you’re not hurting and that you don’t need some help. All I want to do is stand by you, and I want you to be happy. And I damn well want to spend the night with the man I…”

He backed away, a flicker of fear, and she knew it was now or never.

“I love you,” she said, keeping her gaze straight on his, letting all those things she felt vibrate in her words.

He turned away, then just stood there, still saying nothing.

Which pissed her right off, and maybe it shouldn’t have. Maybe she shouldn’t have been doing or saying any of this, but she was. She wasn’t going to stop. She was going to be honest, and she was going to stand up for herself, and she was going to demand something out of him.

He might be great in a lot of ways, but she wasn’t going to let him keep locking her out.

“I know you’re not ready to hear that,” she began. “That’s okay. It is. But that is how I feel, and because it’s how I feel, I don’t like only getting parts of you. The parts you deem worthy to share. Because I have shared everything with you. I have been stupid and goofy and shy and all of the parts of me I used to be embarrassed of. I have shown them to you and you have made me feel like they aren’t silly or foolish. You have always made me feel like they were part of me, and you liked all those parts of me, and I want to do the same for you.”

“I don’t need that,” he said, his voice gruff and pained.

Which hurt. Because though he said need, it felt a hell of a lot like want. I don’t want that. “Gotcha.”

He still didn’t turn to face her, and she didn’t know what else to say. Actually, that wasn’t true. She knew exactly what to say, but she was afraid to say it. She was afraid to tell him all the things she really felt, and she was afraid they would make him walk away.

But she was tired of living her life afraid. Afraid of people, afraid of germs, afraid of hurting Mom. Afraid of all the things that could go wrong.

She was afraid of losing him because this was wonderful, but it also made her feel like crap lately. It wasn’t that she thought love was all roses and champagne all the time, but she did think that…it wasn’t trying to make each other feel like crap. Which meant telling someone when she felt like crap because of what they were doing.

Even if they walked away. Even if it ruined everything.

“I’m not going to keep doing this,” she said, her wavering voice undermining the words. But she was certain—God, she was certain that she needed more. Needed it. “I love you. And I’ll be okay if you don’t love me back yet, but there’s no chance if you won’t open up.”

“I am plenty open.” He turned to face her, confusion and irritation dug into the lines of his face. “This is a good thing. Why on earth are you trying to ruin it?”

“No, honey,” she returned, something about his accusation giving her the strength to be steady and sure. “I’m trying to build a relationship, and it needs a foundation. We could fix up the bunkhouse, and we could start this whole business that we’ve got going on. But without you and me and Monica, without Jack and Gabe and Hick and the cattle and all of these buildings, it wouldn’t make a difference. It would have no mooring. You have to have the tools, and you have to have the ground, and you have to have the heart.”

He stared at her for the longest time, and for a second she thought maybe he was going to say that he loved her too. She almost hoped he wouldn’t, because if he told her he loved her, she might be willing to overlook a lot more things than she should.

“I’m sorry,” he finally said, such a blank expression on his face.

---