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The problem is, those walls are also holding me back. In the long run, those protective walls are hurting me and my relationships with the people I trust.
My heart hammers in my chest. This is going to suck.
No, it’s not.
I’m strong.
I’m a fighter.
I survived everything they did to me. Talking about it is nothing by comparison.
I’m not sure who that inner voice is, but I appreciate her encouragement.
I take a deep breath.
Fuck it. Bring on the awkwardness.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHARLIE
I look over at Tom, his eyes on the stars waking up to share their light. I swallow hard, forcing myself to speak before I lose my nerve. “I’ve been thinking about something my therapist said.”
Tom unfolds the blanket and tucks it around my shoulders. “What's that?”
I weigh my words before replying slowly and deliberately. “She said intimacy between two people, not just romantic intimacy, but also closeness between friends, when you really know someone – it all starts when they allow themselves to be vulnerable. I’ve been very guarded with everyone since I moved to Cedar Ridge, physically and emotionally. I don’t want to live like that anymore. I want to allow certain people to get closer. And that starts with me opening up.” I glance over to find him watching me intently. “I was thinking about telling you what happened to me in Afghanistan.” I look down at the steps.
I watch as Tom slowly reaches toward my hand. He holds his hand in front of mine, palm down and fingers spread, waiting to see if I’ll take it.
I can do this.
I can trust him.
He’s safe.
I take a deep breath and slide my hand into his. My small hand disappears beneath his huge one before he loosely laces our fingers together. I tense automatically but sit in the moment, not pulling away, reminding myself I can trust him until I relax into the warmth of his hand.
“You don’t need to tell me anything you aren’t ready to.” His gentle voice breaks the silence. “Don’t feel pressured to open up to me just because she told you to. This is something you should only do if you want to, and it should be on your timetable, not someone else’s.”
Tom telling me to do what’s best for me rather than pushing me to bare my secrets strengthens my conviction that opening up to him is the right thing to do. “I’ve thought about it. I trust you, and I don’t want you to be one of the people I keep at arm’s length anymore. I want to let you in.” I glance over nervously. “If that’s okay, I mean.”
He rests our joined hands lightly on my thigh, my hand on my own leg. “Of course it is.”
I realize our arms are touching from shoulder to hand. I scan my emotions, amazed to find I’m not bothered. Not by that, anyway. I’m too afraid of how his view of me will change when he hears my story.
I draw a slow breath, trying to quell my nerves. “You already know the four of us were stationed together. One afternoon, a call came in. Insurgents had attacked a nearby village, and the locals needed medical attention. I.S. groups would sometimes attack villages near military posts because they viewed the villagers as American sympathizers. We took two medical trucks to go help. Both trucks had two soldiers up front and two medics in the back. The soldiers would protect us while we worked. We’d treat locals on site for minor injuries and load the seriously wounded in the truck and head for the field hospital, or if they were critically injured, we’d call a chopper.
“But this time was different. The insurgents had laid a trap. It’s like the ‘double wave’ effect you see sometimes with suicide bombers. The goal of the first wave is to cause mass casualties, like hitting a crowded market or a village. The second wave of bombers attacks when first responders arrive. It instills more terror if people believe help can’t get to them. That was their goal – to make the villagers fall in line while also ambushing us. Two for the price of one.”
I have to stop for a moment. This is where it gets hard to talk about. Tom waits patiently, rubbing his thumb lightly over mine.
“Lila and I were in the back of the second truck. Max and Mike were our soldiers up front. We were almost at the village when I heard the shriek of an RPG just before it hit the first truck and killed everyone inside. Mike swerved to miss the explosion, and we flipped into a ditch. Lila and I got thrown around. She was knocked unconscious. I was injured, but I knew I had to get to my feet. I heard Max and Mike outside the truck. Mike stood guard while Max crawled in to help me with Lila.” I close my eyes, remembering in excruciating detail my throbbing head, the blood in my eyes, and the harsh smell of the black smoke choking me, making it hard to see.
Tom squeezes my hand gently. I open my eyes. My breathing has picked up as the familiar bands tighten around my chest, but I need to do this, to talk about this. I take several deep breaths and steel myself against the pain.
I can do this.
I’ve already done this.
