Ice (Elite Forces #1)(34)

I stare down at my phone. The urge to call her is grinding away at my gut. Instead, I toss the phone into the empty passenger seat and grab my shades and my ball cap. I’m giving her the space she asked for, for now anyway.





CHAPTER ELEVEN


JADE


I knew the moment I woke up drenched in sweat, my entire body trembling from the nightmare that won’t leave my damn mind, that I had to leave. It didn’t matter that the sun was set to rise. I had to get the hell out of there before I woke him. The man has been through enough shit to have to deal with a wacked-out woman who can’t handle what she has been trained to do. I don’t need coddled, or for anyone to tell me I will be alright. I need to do this my way.

So what did I do? Like a coward, I fumbled through the dark of his bedroom. Found all of my clothes and tiptoed out of his room. Found a half bath in the hallway and quickly got dressed, picked up my bag from the floor where he dropped it, and quietly exited his house. Called a cab to pick me up. My eyes stayed glued to his front door, praying he wouldn’t notice I was gone. It wasn’t until I pulled away that I let out a deep breath he didn’t wake. Not that I wouldn’t have left anyway, but I couldn’t deal with seeing the look on his face. He wants to help, I appreciate him for that. But how can anyone help me if I don’t try to help myself?

By the time the cab driver dropped me off to retrieve my car, my nerves were frantic and my chest was so very tight. Every noise had me jumping. It was like gunfire to my ears, strangling me and making it hard to breathe, not to mention hard to drive. Turning on the radio to some random classical station to drown out the noises from outside, I made my way down the road and away from Commander Kaleb Maverick.

By the time I made the three-hour drive to my apartment, thankful my roommate was already gone to work, I was a mess and coated in sweat. My chest was aching to the point I felt like I was having a heart attack as anxiety swarmed around me.

By the time I was inside my apartment, my hands were shaking so bad I dropped the card my superior officer handed me on the floor twice before falling to my knees in a crying mess. Through tear-stained eyes I managed to dial the psychiatrist’s number. I attempted to gain some sort of control before speaking to her receptionist, but not enough that she didn’t recognize the panic in my voice before she placed me on hold, returning shortly to tell me to be there within the hour.

So here I am. Sitting in the office of Doctor Simone Randall. Her office is cheery and bright. Her coal-black hair is pulled back with those old metal clips on each side like my grandmother used to use. Her eyes are kind and sympathetic. She’s not showing me pity, just warmth and understanding, as if she knows exactly what I’ve been through. This is the first time I feel a sliver of hope.

“We both know what’s brought you here today, Jade. Anything you tell me stays between the two of us. It’s strictly confidential. My report back to your superior officer will only state whether I feel you need more time or whether you’re ready to perform your job duties,” she says honestly.

“Thank you,” I tell her.

“I haven’t had the chance to look over much of this. To be quite honest, I wasn’t expecting to hear from you for a few days. However, my job is to help you and listen to you. You tell me where you want to start. I’ll stop you if I have questions.” I’m in love with her already. Don’t ask me how I know this. Maybe it’s her non-judgmental demeanor or the clarity in her tone. I don’t know, but when I start to tell her how difficult it is for me to handle the fact that I shot a young boy, her words back to me make sense. It’s something I knew all along, but hearing it from a person who wasn’t out there, or from someone who thinks they know what’s best for me, puts a whole new perspective on my troubling mind.

“I think it’s good for you that you have some time off and stay away from the base where it’s going to remind you of the trauma you’ve endured. However, I would like to recommend you not isolate yourself from everyone. Nightmares are going to come and go, Jade, and with those nightmares comes the difficulty of sleeping.” Then she surprises me with her next request. My brain desperately tries to understand why she thinks this would help me.

“One thing I did see in your file is that you lost a brother. Would you like to talk about that at all?” I’m not sure if I do. That’s one of the reasons why I need to make peace with my parents. Why I need to feel normal before I make the drive across town to see them. My older brother Jason committed suicide almost two years ago after his second tour in Iraq. He hid his symptoms of PTSD from us all. The police found him two days later, after he took his life by jumping off a bridge. It destroyed my parents; a part of all of us died that day with Jason.

By the time I’ve left her office with another appointment for the day after tomorrow and a mild anti-anxiety prescription, I know exactly the first place I need to go to begin this journey of healing.





~~~~


“I’m here, Jason.” I am kneeling on the ground in front of my brother’s grave. There’s just enough light left on the horizon for me to see his name engraved and the words ‘Forever in our Hearts’ below his name.

“I’m sorry it’s been so long. I don’t have an excuse, and I won’t make one up. I miss you.” I trace my fingers over his name. The tears fall freely and I let them.