Page 42 of Only Her (K2 Team)
Without hesitating, she slid onto his lap, facing him, and gave him a smile that made his heart feel like someone had clamped a pair of jumper cables on it. The charge that sped through him was like nothing he’d ever felt before.
She lowered her mouth to his, and he cradled her neck with his hand, careful not to touch the bump on her head. Her lips were warm and lush, and he swept his tongue into her mouth, loving the taste of her. All too soon, the doorbell rang, and he lingered for a few more seconds before pulling away and staring down at her. Her eyes were dark with desire, and the last thing he wanted to do was leave. He wished to God that he were in a better place in his life, because he was going to find a way to mess up whatever this was between them. That was a fact.
The head doc’s waiting room wasn’t typical of any doctor’s office that Cody had ever been in. The chairs were soft leather and comfortable, the assortment of magazines varied and some were even interesting, and jazz music played softy through ceiling speakers. The receptionist had offered him a choice of coffee, tea, or soda. He’d almost asked if she had any scotch, and he would have only been half kidding.
“Mr.Roberts.”
Cody jumped up, eyeing the front door, wondering how fast he could get out. Pretty damn fast if he wanted.Man up, dude. You’ve been through worse than this.He wasn’t so sure about that, but his job depended on doing this. He followed the woman who’d introduced herself as Norma when he’d checked in. She reminded him of the kind of grandmother you could tell all your troubles to, and then she’d feed you cookies and milk. Probably intentional on the doc’s part. Trick you into liking it here, then sneak up on you when you weren’t paying attention.
She led him to an office, and then backed out without a word, closing the door behind her. Therewasa damn couch against the wall. He so fucking didn’t want to be here.
“I’m Tom Bledsoe,” said a tall man maybe ten years older than Cody. He had black hair peppered with gray, and piercing blue eyes.
“Cody Roberts.” He shook the man’s hand.
“Have a seat.” The doctor returned to his desk. When Cody hesitated, he chuckled. “The chair is fine. We’re not at the couch stage yet.”
“Not sure I ever want to be.”
“Almost everyone says that. Do you prefer Mr.Roberts or Cody?” he asked after Cody was seated in front of the chrome and glass desk.
“Cody’s fine.”
“Good, because I prefer Tom.” He steepled his hands and fixed on Cody with those all-too-seeing eyes. “Tell me why you’re here.”
And there it was right off the bat. The million-dollar question. “I was given an ultimatum by my boss. Get help or lose my job.”
“I’ve known Kincaid for a few years now. I imagine he’s a good man to work for.”
“He is.” For a while they talked about the similarities and differences between serving in Iraq, where Tom had been a medic, and Afghanistan, where Cody had been deployed.
“Why do you need help, Cody?”
The man was a trickster all right. He’d lulled Cody into relaxing before springing the question. He took a deep breath. “I keep having this nightmare, the same one over and over. Last week, on an operation, I had a flashback. Now I’m grounded until I figure things out.”
“I see. That unfortunately happens to too many of our military men and women who’ve served in a war zone. It’s not a weakness, and it doesn’t mean you’re crazy. Just that you’re human. In your case, with the recurring nightmare, I’d guess something happened that you’re suppressing.”
“So what do I do about it?”
The doc smiled. “Exactly what you’re doing by agreeing to see me. The reason I’m good for you is that I’ve been where you are. I served, I saw things I’ll never unsee, and I understand where you’re coming from.”
“Did you suffer from PTSD?” For some reason Cody wanted the doctor to say yes. Not that he’d wish what he was going through on anyone else, but how was the man supposed to understand if he’d never experienced the night sweats, the feeling that he was losing his mind, and at his lowest moments, never considered biting a bullet?
“I did, and I was stupid about it for too long. I came too damn close to swallowing a bottle of pills. I was a doctor, not yet a psychiatrist, but still thought I could heal myself. It was Kincaid who made me see the light. The man’s persistent if nothing else, and he practically dragged my ass to treatment. When I was thinking straight again, I knew I wanted to help others like me, so I went back to school and got my degree.”
If Tom Bledsoe could get better, why couldn’t he? “Tell me what I need to do.”
“This first appointment is two hours. That gives us a chance to talk and go over how the treatment works. After this, you’ll come see me twice a week for one hour. There are a few choices, but I’ve found that CPT works best. That’s Cognitive Processing Therapy. Trauma has a way of causing us to struggle with our memories of an event, sometimes the result being that we’re unable to make sense of something that happened. I’ve not yet delved into your nightmares and what you remember, we’ll do that at your next appointment.”
Now that he was committed to doing this, Cody was disappointed that they weren’t going to jump right in. “How long does this all take?”
“That depends on you. How open you are to the treatment, how hard you work at it. I’ll be giving you some tools to help you handle depression and learn how to become aware of your thoughts and how to change them. We’ll get to the bottom of your nightmare, figure out how much of it is real, and how much of it isn’t. Individuals returning from a battle zone often blame themselves for things that were beyond their control, especially if someone died. You were a sniper, and that’s right up there for messing with your mind.”
Cody didn’t think that was his problem. “I never lost sleep over killing an insurgent. My worry was more that one of our guys would get hurt or worse because of me. You know, that I didn’t kill the bad guy first.”
“And that was your job and an honorable one. Don’t ever let anyone tell you different.”
“Not even my parents?” Why had he brought that up? He’d long ago accepted he would never have their approval for what he did.
