Worth Saving(59)

Last night, it finally happened. Layla and I spent the night together, and she finally felt comfortable enough to let herself go. Something was different about her the second she opened the door. She seemed more relaxed—more carefree—like she was letting her hair down for the very first time and she was infatuated with how good it felt. I didn’t say anything about it, but I noticed it right away.

For me, I was excited about making love to her, but I was much more excited by the fact that she was ready to be with me with no holds barred. She let her guard all the way down and I was able to feel her, all of her, both inside and out, literally and metaphorically. It was my own personal vacation to heaven, and when I woke up this morning, I couldn’t wipe the smile off my face if I tried.

I woke up before Layla did, and I took advantage of it. As weird as it may sound, I just watched her sleep for a minute. She was lying there on my chest with her hand rested on my stomach, her wrist decorated with the charm bracelet I gave her for her birthday. She was like a sleeping angel who I could feel myself falling for the more I looked at her. Her beauty was stunning to me, even with no makeup and no movement, she was gorgeous. When she woke up, I hid the fact that I was staring at her—didn’t want to freak her out.

As we both got dressed, I kept looking behind me and stealing glances at her, smiling to myself as she put on her pants and her tank top. I was annoyed by the fact that we couldn’t hang out tonight, but I let her have some time to herself so she could get ready to go. She seemed frustrated by having to go back to work too, but I figured that’s understandable after such a long break. So, I kissed her goodbye and told her to call me when she got off so I could come back over.

Now, as I lay here on my couch, all I can think about is the moment I’m gonna get that phone call. I’ll probably be out with Jason and Jordan, but all I’ll be thinking about is getting back to her. I want to spend as much time with Layla as I can, and I’m not even sure why I feel that way. For some reason, I have an urgency to be with her that grows every day. It’s like I’ve had some sort of premonition that it’s all going to come to a screeching halt any moment now, and I need to soak up as much of her as I can before she’s gone.

In the meantime, I have my own life to think about. I have to go back to work myself in a couple of days, and at this point, I’m still not sure if I’m going to be ready to climb behind the controls of a helicopter. Major Nelson is hoping for the best and so am I, but with work only a couple of days away, I’m not sure how I’m going to react.

I’ve never really accepted that I have PTSD. I always figured I’d be above that shit if I was ever in a situation that could be considered traumatic. I brushed that diagnosis off like it was dirt on my shoulder and I went on with my life, but when I’m alone, that’s when I know it’s true. When I’m all by myself, I can’t help the memories flashing in my mind and the thoughts of the bullets, and Weston’s dead body. No matter how hard I try not to think about it, it hits me, and when I sleep, I dream about it. Over and over again. I dream about it more than I told Major Nelson.

The only thing that helps me is Layla. She occupies my mind in its entirety. She has my full attention, and I have no fear of anything. It’s funny how that works, but it’s true, and it’s just one of the many reasons why I love spending time with her. She makes me feel better in every way. She makes me feel like everything is okay, and I can’t thank her enough for that, because she doesn’t even know the affect she has on me. How the hell did I get so lucky to meet a woman like her, especially in a bar full of men who I know would’ve loved to end up with her? She chose me. Out of everybody who could’ve talked to her, it ended up being me.

I accidentally fall asleep on the couch and take a cat nap, and I wake up an hour later to the sound of my phone ringing. These days, I prefer texting, so I’m curious to see who’s actually calling. The number on the screen has a two-zero-six area code. Seattle. It’s Jason.

“Jason, what’s up, man?” I answer, still lying on my back.

“Hey, what’s good, Austin? Where are you, bro?” he asks.

“I’m at the house.”

“Yeah? So, how did it go last night?”

I hesitate for a moment. Men have a thing about telling all of their business to their friends, which is usually how so many cheating men get caught—they can’t keep their mouths shut. Me, on the other hand, I’m not into kissing and telling, even when I’m tempted to. Maybe I’m weird, but there’s some things I’d prefer stay private.

“It went fine. We had a good time as usual.”

“What? That’s it? Come on man, give me the details,” Jason asks eagerly. “Was last night finally the night?”

I let out a loud sigh.

“Last night was great—the best night we’ve had yet.”

“Does that mean what I think it means?” Jason prods, sounding way too excited about this.

“It means just what I said, man. It was the best night we’ve ever had. What else do you want me to say?”

“Oh, you finally did it, didn’t you? That’s what I’m talking about, Austin. Way to go, bro!”

“What are you talking about?” I say as I start to laugh to myself. “I didn’t even say anything to confirm your childish suspicions.”