Page 89 of Faking it with the Green Beret

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, uncertain if he heard her as he opened the door and let it click closed behind him.

Why? Why had she agreed to come when she’d known he might read more into it? She’d hurt him. Failed him as a friend. Worse, she might have destroyed any progress he’d made when it came to establishing a healthy romantic relationship just because he picked the wrong woman.

Her.

ChapterForty-Eight

IF YOU’RE GOING THROUGH HELL – Rodney Atkins

In the parking garage,John sat in his truck, willing his rage to abate. He couldn’t be mad at Elizabeth. He’d known there was more to her story, but he never imagined it was as dark as what she’d been through. After what she shared, he hadn’t dared touch her to offer comfort.

He’d refrained from punching a hole in the hotel wall. That wouldn’t have won points with her, but he still wanted to hit something. Himself for making her relive it, or preferably, her asshole ex-husband. He didn’t know Adam’s last name, but with a little digging, he could find out. Except beating the crap out of her ex wouldn’t make things better for Elizabeth.

He loosened his white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel, pounding on it with both forearms so hard the horn blared and echoed off the cement walls. He’d crossed the line, calling her a hypocrite. Maybe the reason she worked so hard to help other women was to get them to a point she hadn’t reached in healing. Was there any way to salvage this?

A car driving past jarred him into motion. After starting the ignition, he immediately turned off the radio. For once in his life, he wasn’t in the mood for music. Not some sappy love song, and he didn’t want some heavy metal rock to add to the pounding in his head.

He made it about an hour into the trip home before he queued up Rodney Atkins’ “If You’re Going Through Hell.” Playing it for the third time straight, he finally sang along. Despite Elizabeth’s rules, he resolved to pick up a bottle of Jim Beam and get drunk tonight. If she kicked him out, at least he and Boss had a place to go now that his renter had moved out. While his house might not be furnished, it was no emptier than his life.

At least he still had Boss.

* * *

John didn’t stopat the liquor store—a decision he might regret tonight but not in the morning when he had to report for duty. He drove past Elizabeth’s home and empty porch. There’d be no sitting there with her tonight. Or ever again.

Wren let Boss out. He raced around the truck to greet John.

“How did everything go?” Wren asked.

“The wedding was great.” He ruffled the fur on the back of Boss’s neck.

“I meant with you and Elizabeth.” Her innuendo made it clear she’d picked up on his attraction.

“Not so great.” His rage had collapsed into a hollowness in his chest.

“What happened?” She sounded truly surprised.

“I told her how I felt about her—”

“Romantically?”

“Yes, and she is not interested in a relationship.”

“Did she actually say that?”

“Yeah. There’s no other way to interpret it.”

“I can’t believe that. Since you’ve been here, she’s changed—lightened up. She’s smiled and laughed more in the weeks since you came than in the entire year and a half before.”

That should have made him feel better, not worse. “I don’t know what she’s told you about her past . . .”

“A good bit. When I first came here, I didn’t want to tell her what I’d been through because most other people don’t believe me. Or help. But Elizabeth said she understood—that she’d been afraid people wouldn’t believe her story either. She shared, and I trusted her enough to finally tell her what I’d been through and done.”

He’d go with that and not divulge anything Elizabeth had told him in confidence. “Because of what happened, she’s still not ready for a relationship. I don’t know what to do. I’m open to ideas.”

“I wish I knew what to tell you. Even though we’ve been through similar—abuse—everyone’s story is different. So is how we react. Some women, they, um, devalue?—I can’t remember the term Elizabeth used. They act like sex is no big deal. For others, sex brings back what they went through, and restarts the trauma cycle. They may shut down and avoid relationships and sex.”

That sounded like Elizabeth. “Forever?”

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