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“Yes. I did,” I admitted.
“Did you just want to cash in your v-card, and I was convenient?”
I couldn’t stop the laugh from escaping but immediately felt bad about it when his eyes flashed with surprise and then anger.
“Are you laughing at me?”
“No. Hunter, no. I’m laughing because you’re a man who has made an art out of detached sex and the one-night stand. It’s ironic to see you concerned about me when we both know you have no intentions toward me.”
“You’re wrong.” His eyes were fierce and made me gasp, not from fear, but from the intensity of them. That was when the guilt got even worse. He was seeing more into our relationship because he saw me as helping with his demons. He was experiencing transference, or in layman’s terms, falling for his therapist. He saw my caring as love. And I’d made it infinitely worse by having sex with him. Maybe I should lose my license.
“You think I’m incapable of having feelings?” He glared at me with his hands on his hips.
“No. Actually, I think you’re a very caring man. But I think your feelings are confused. And I made it worse by giving in to you. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t.” He pointed his index finger at me. “Don’t ever say you’re sorry about fucking me.” He lifted his palms up and turned away.
I was losing control of this. “I don’t regret it.”
He shook his head, still not looking at me. “Yes, you do. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be firing me.” He was right.
“I wouldn’t change it. But I can’t ethically continue to work with you.”
“So why do we have to stop seeing each other?”
“Because your feelings aren’t real.”
This time, he laughed. “You headshrinkers are full of bullshit, you know that? You push and push to share feelings and then when we do, you tell us they’re not right or real. What kind of fucked-up thing is that?”
I could see his point, which meant I wasn’t doing a very good job of explaining our situation. “I know it’s confusing, and I am pleased that you’re talking to me about all this now. It’s good for you, Hunter. But professionally, I crossed the line. I broke the rules. It wouldn’t be fair to you if I continued to see you. You need to find another therapist. I’ve written one down for you that I think will be great. He’s a former vet too.” I handed him the slip of paper I’d been keeping in my pocket.
He took the paper and tore it up. “I’m not going to see anyone else. It’s you or no one, Doc.”
15
Hunter
Monday
There was one part of me telling me to cut my losses and leave. She didn’t want to see me professionally or personally. Why would I stick around and beg a woman, who clearly regretted what had happened between us, to stay? I wasn’t a sadist. Or maybe I was, because I did stick around, trying to convince her to stay.
“You once asked what I wanted. I want the nightmares to stop. Since meeting you, they haven’t stopped, but they come later in the night and are shorter.” And since Friday, her appearance in them didn’t feel so much like she was on Sara and Chase’s side, but that she was trying to save me. “Now that I’m getting some reprieve and a better night’s sleep, you want to leave. How is that professional?”
She sighed and sat in the chair. “Tell me more about the dreams.”
I studied her. Did that mean she was giving in? I walked back to the couch and sat. “For a long time, they were a flashback to an explosion in Iraq.” I took a deep breath as the fear and panic filled my blood and made my skin itch.
“Just that one?” she asked.
I shifted, not ready to tell her about Sara. “Mostly. Yes.”
“Why that one, do you think?”
“I don’t know. It was deadly. Only a handful of us survived. It led to my forced retirement from the military.”
She nodded. “Close your eyes, Hunter.”
It took me a moment because I didn’t want to go back there and I was sure that’s what she was going to have me do. Finally, I shut them.
“What feelings are you having at this memory? Physically and emotionally?”
I let out a shuddering breath. “Panic. Terror. Guilt. Fear.”
“Tell me about the guilt.”
I shook my head.
“Was it your fault?”
“I had a bad feeling about the place.” My mouth was dry as the memory grew more vivid in my head.
“Why the guilt, Hunter?”
“I didn’t convince them to retreat.” Fucking morons.
“So you tried to talk them out of going, but they didn’t listen.”
I dug the heels of my hands into my eye sockets, wanting the image of the carnage gone. “Yes.”
“Who ignored your input that something was off?”
“Wallace. Calhoon and Henley backed him up too.” I remembered wanting to punch Wallace for being so gung-ho about killing the enemy and riling up young Calhoon and Henley into a fighting frenzy. This wasn’t a video game, which they learned when they were all blown to bits.
