Worth Saving(67)

“Yeah, I did. I did feel it, and I thought for a second you might actually be the one for me, but then I went out to celebrate and have one last night with my friends, only to find out that what I thought was special, was complete bullshit. I saw you in there with that guy touching you, and you were wearing next to f*cking nothing, and then you went and sat next to Damien. Your ex-boyfriend, of all people.”

“Damien isn’t my ex, Austin,” I reply. “Damien is just the guy I worked for at Red Pony. He’s my . . . boss. He was my boss. I quit right after you left.”

“You mean, he’s your pimp,” he barks, ignoring the part about me quitting. “So, you lied about that, too. He was never your boyfriend, just your pimp. Great. You’re just full of f*cking surprises. Damn!”

“I only lied about Damien because I couldn’t tell you who he really was without revealing what I did for a living.” It’s an explanation, but it doesn’t make him feel any better. Austin just shakes his head for what seems like forever, before I finally break the silence again.

“Austin, I’m sorry. I know this is a lot to take in, but please just know that I care so much about you. I never meant for this to happen. I swear I was going to tell you, I just didn’t know how or when to. I’m sorry.”

“It doesn’t matter, Layla,” he responds, staring now at the table. “This is just too much. You’ve been lying to me every day since the day we met, and that’s just too f*cking much. I tried to be there for you. I tried so hard to convince you that not all men are *s. I tried so hard, and it was you who was lying the whole time.”

“Austin . . .”

“Get out of my house,” he says, cutting me off. When I don’t move, he says it again, but louder. “I said, get out. Now.”

I exhale just as the tears begin their assault on my eyes, but I hurry towards the door because I don’t want him to see me cry. I stop at the door and look back at him, but he isn’t watching me leave. He’s still there, staring down at the table when I close the door behind me and walk to the car.

I back out of the driveway and drive a block up the road before I finally pull over and let the tears have their way. I lay my head on the steering wheel and cry until there’s nothing left. Long, gut wrenching sobs that make me out of breath. It takes fifteen minutes for me to pull myself together enough to be able to drive.

I make it home and lay on my couch—the place where Austin and I made love just a couple of days ago—and I cry some more. I cry until the cushion is soaked all the way through. I cry way more than I thought I ever would over a man I’ve known just over a month. Or, maybe I’m crying because I’m finally free from Red Pony. Maybe I’m crying because I have no idea what my future holds and it’s terrifying. I don’t even know anymore, but before I’m able to figure it out, I cry myself to sleep right there on the couch.





Austin

“You ready for this, Captain?”

I feel the wind coming in through the hangar door. I know it’s colder in the hangar than it is outside, but I still feel apprehensive about going out there at all. My stomach is in knots as we wait for the okay to head towards the flight line so we can board the helicopter.

It’s been three days since I last saw Layla, and even now, in this situation where I should be fully focused on what it is I’m about to do, I’m still thinking about it—about her. I’m distracted at exactly the wrong time, but I don’t let the six army soldiers that are waiting with me know that. I just stand there and try to project the proud, strong image they all expect from me, even though I’ve been sleeping like shit every night. I’m haunted by the dreams, and it’s gotten worse since the incident with Layla.

This’ll also be the first time I’ve been inside a helicopter since I was in Afghanistan—since Lieutenant Weston. My therapist, Major Nelson, asked me last week if I would be ready for this moment when it came, and I told him I didn’t know. Well, the moment is here, so I guess we’re about to find out.

“Hey, Captain Sloan, are you ready for this?” I hear a voice repeat behind me. I turn around and Colonel Marcus Burg is standing there with a thin smile on his lips. He’s one of the few people who knows about what happened with me in Afghanistan, so I know he’s checking on me, and I don’t like it.

“Yeah, of course,” I assure him. I don’t feel confident, but I try to force it. I tell myself I’m good at this, and I always have been. Once I’m in the pilot’s seat, I’m going to be good to go. I just need to make it there.

“Alright, we got the green light, let’s do this.” Colonel Burg pushes past me and leads the small band of us out the door.

I’m the only Air Force member of the group, and we’re here to do standard training for the Army paratroopers. All I’m supposed to do is take them up in the helicopter and let them jump out. The training isn’t for me, it’s for the Army troops to practice jumping from a chopper and using their shoots. All I have to do is go up, and then back down again. Easy money.

We walk out towards the chopper together, the wind blowing us forward from behind, and I see the helicopter sitting there on the flight line. It’s the first helicopter I’ve seen since I landed the one with Lieutenant Weston’s dead body in it. When I look at it, I instantly feel apprehensive, which is really weird for me. I’ve always been the one going around telling people about how you can’t do this job and be afraid at the same time. I was always preaching about being brave and having no fear. Now, however, the sight of the HH-60 Pave Hawk sends a chill up my spine for the first time ever. No matter, I brush it off. I have a job to do, and I’m going to do it. I’m going to push past this, I’m going to push past Layla, and I’m going to be fine. I’m fine.