Page 25 of SEAL of Valor

“Look, I’m not interested in talking about Reese. Okay? We were together. We broke up. She moved on. End of story.”

“I notice it was all ‘we’ until that ending statement.”

Growling, I reach up and pinch the bridge of my nose. “If I didn’t seek professional help back then, what makes you think I want it now?”

“I’m not here as a counselor. I’m here as a friend. You made the counselor assumption all on your own.”

I turn toward him now, hoping that the anger I’m feeling is etched into my expression. Maybe then he’ll leave me to suffer in silence. “Zane already tried.”

“See, this is your problem, Cowboy. You are so intent on being alone that our mere presence grates against you. Well, guess what. You have been there every time I’ve needed you. Really, anytime any of us has needed you. No hesitations. No waiting for an invitation. You show up, kick the door in, and offer us support. So, this is me not hesitating or waiting for an invitation when it comes to you.”

I turn back toward the gravestone, emotions burning in my throat.

It’s been decades since I touched a drop of alcohol, but the urge was certainly there today. That sneaky voice in my ear, telling me one drink won’t hurt.

Then I remembered my dad, his drunken rages, how there was never enough alcohol in the world to fix his problems.

So I came here instead.

Even dead, Violet won’t let me become him.

“Fighting a war is a whole lot easier when you can use your fists,” I say.

“The toughest battles don’t require your fists,” he replies.

“If you’re about to get religious on me, Demo, I’m not interested.”

“It’s not religion. It’s faith.” He leans back on his hands. “But you’ve heard it all by now, and I don’t imagine anything I’ll say right now will make it past that hard heart of yours.” He’s quiet for a moment. “Actually, I changed my mind. You’ve been trying to outrun your past for years now. Even without knowing what you dealt with, I could see it. Did you ever stop to wonder, though, why Anastasia can celebrate Violet’s life today instead of grieving her death?”

“Anastasia wasn’t Violet’s sibling. She lost her friend. I lost my sister. It’s not the same.”

“Maybe not. But whether you want to believe it or not, Violet is in a better place. The sorrow is for those left behind. And the true tragedy is that you are still living in her death instead of focusing on your life.”

“The true tragedy was the murder of my sister.” I push to my feet. “The true tragedy was that losing her wasn’t even the only thing I lost that week, and I’ll never get any of it back,” I growl the words, doing what I can to fight back tears I refuse to cry.

Not now.

Not ever.

Garrison stands. I have him by about an inch in height and quite a few pounds of muscle, but I’ve always seen him as the bigger man.

The better man.

I see them all that way. Because if I were truly a good man, I wouldn’t have let Reese walk away.

I would have shouldered the grief for my sister and the baby Reese and I lost. I would have rescued my new wife from the storm I didn’t even realize she was standing in until it was too late.

“What else did you lose that week? Reese?”

“I’m not doing this.”

“Weston, you won’t heal unless you talk.”

“I’m. Not. Interested.” Rage bubbles up past the pain. Anger that he won’t just drop it. That he’s insisting on pushing and pushing.

“Maybe not now. But when you are, you have an entire team behind you. You’re not alone, Cowboy.”

I turn toward him. “I’ve been alone since the day I lost my sister,” I tell him. “And no amount of talking will ever change that.”