The Safe Bet (Hidden Truths #1)(75)

“Kate?”

Michael nodded and looked down at the floor.

“Have you made your decision about rejoining the military yet?”

He asked him this question every time he visited. And Michael’s response was always the same. “No.”

“But you want to be with Kate?”

“Yes.”

“But you don’t know if you can be?”

“Yes.” Michael knew the game. He knew the series of questions he would ask. He knew his answers before he was even asked.

“Are you having the nightmares?”

“Yes.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and shut his eyes. The dreams had been coming every night, but the nightmares were no longer about the day he almost died in Afghanistan.

“Tell me about it.”

He nodded, his eyes still shut. “I watch Dustin slit Kate’s throat. Powerless to stop it.”

“Why do you think she dies in your dream?”

He had answered this question before, too. “I don’t know.”

The doctor usually moved on to another question, but this time he pushed. “I want you to really think about it. You used to dream of watching a fellow Marine die in Afghanistan. His throat was slit, and you couldn’t save him. Everything you dreamt about was true. Why do you think your mind is altering the reality of what actually happened now?”

“I don’t know,” he responded, almost angry.

“You saved her life when you couldn’t save the Marine. But for some reason, I think that you’re afraid that if you love her, you’ll somehow kill her. You see yourself as the enemy.”

Michael let the words sink in.

“You should talk to her,” the doctor suggested.

“I can’t. It’s been too long. She must hate me.” He leaned back in the chair and crossed his ankle over his knee.

“Do you think the nightmares will stop once you see her?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you want Kate or do you want to be a Marine?” He was always direct, which is what Michael needed.

“They need me. People are dying.”

“You’re only one man.”

“The military is made up of men and women. If everyone thought like that, there’d be no military.” He rose to his feet, stuffed his hands in his pockets, and walked to the window.

“Don’t you deserve happiness?”

“No,” he was quick to answer.

“What about Kate? Does she deserve it?”

“Of course.” He kept his eyes trained on the view outside. The room felt like it was closing in on him. He was struggling to breathe.

“What if you are her happy ending? What if you rob her of that?”

“She’ll find someone else. Someone better. She deserves better than a murderer.”

“So we’re back to that, huh?” The doctor set his notepad and pen on the coffee table in front of him and stood up. “Why do you call yourself a murderer?”

“Because by definition, that is what I am.” He turned to face the doctor, his lips twitching with irritation.

“So the military is made up of a bunch of murderers?” The doctor stood a few feet in front of him and crossed his arms.

He was taller and more muscular than Michael would have expected, and he had gray hair that was cut close to his head. Michael noticed for the first time that he had callouses on his hands.

“Am I a murderer?”

“You were in the military?” He could see it now—the edge to the man. He wasn’t sure how he’d missed it before.

“Navy. Ten years. Served in Vietnam. Killed more people than I can remember. I tried to keep count like it would somehow make it okay, but eventually, there were just so many.” He shook his head. “But I’m not a murderer. I followed orders. I was in a war.”

Michael bit his bottom lip, which triggered an image of Kate to flash into his mind. Beautiful and stunning Kate, biting her lip . . .

“How many men have you saved? How many Marines are alive because of you?”

Michael shrugged and looked away.

“That may be a better number to count.” The doctor joined him at the window and looked down at the street.

Michael let the words sink in, but his attention shifted to a woman exiting a limo on the street.

A stunning blonde woman. Similar age. Same height. A dead ringer for Elizabeth, for Kate’s mother—for Kate.





CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE




DON’T BE NERVOUS. EVERYTHING WILL go as planned. Kate walked around the ballroom, apprehension building inside of her.

The last three weeks had been a whirlwind as she prepared for the Boston Mayor’s Winter Ball. It had served as a well-needed distraction from Michael, though. She still couldn’t believe Michael never even gave her the courtesy of a call.

Over two months of silence. But she knew in her heart that hearing his voice would only make things harder for her. It was probably for the best.

For the last few weeks, she’d been spinning a story in her head, telling herself that she had only fallen for Michael because of the circumstances. She had simply been a character in a movie, falling for the rich playboy, going against everything she believed in because she had been in close quarters with him and was scared.