A knock on my door startles me, mostly because I’ve been living in a hole in the ground for five months. The concept of closed doors and boundaries is a bit foreign.
I move through the small living room to unlock the door, swinging it open. Kynan stands there. I silently invite him in by moving away from the threshold.
“You settled in okay?” he asks as he enters.
“All settled and ready to rock and roll,” I reply, shutting the door and twisting the lock. That’s not habit in any form, but caution. Or maybe it’s just pure love of the fact I have an actual door that locks.
Kynan goes directly to my couch and sits, nodding toward a chair that is set perpendicular to it. The apartment is small but lushly appointed. The furniture is high end, there’s crown molding in every room, and the appliances are top of the line. It’s the nicest place I’ve ever lived on my own.
I take a seat, only perching my ass on the end and folding my hands before me, elbows to my knees. Expectantly, I look at Kynan.
“We’re going to debrief at 0800 tomorrow,” he says bluntly.
I nod, maintaining eye contact. Last thing I want to do is to go through what happened, but it’s an essential part to every mission. It’s where we learn from our mistakes, officially document what happened, and bury those things that can’t be publicly known even to the government that hired us.
“Not a problem,” I say. “I’ll be able to get my written report done pretty soon after that.”
Kynan nods in return, rubbing his hand thoughtfully along his jaw as he studies me. Finally, he says, “I’m going to have Corinne sit in on it.”
My jaw tightens slightly. “That’s not standard protocol.”
“Maybe not in the military sector, but it is in my own private company,” he replies without any give to his tone.
Fuck.
Corinne Ellery is Jameson’s resident psychiatrist. I had to interview with her and do some personality testing before I was offered a job here. I’m not stupid… I know he wants her there to evaluate how I’m dealing with my captivity.
“On top of that…” Kynan continues, and I can tell there’s more coming that I won’t like. “For the foreseeable future, you’re going to undergo counseling with Corinne. Until such a time she feels you’re ready to go back into active duty, you’ll ride a desk.”
“You got to be fucking kidding me,” I snarl. “I don’t need a shrink, and I’m fully capable of getting back into the thick of things.”
“Denial,” Kynan replies, and he doesn’t say anything else.
Just that one single word, which he seems to believe describes everything about me.
“I’m not in denial,” I grit out. In an attempt to not appear so bent out of shape about this—and to prove I’m really okay—I slouch into the comfy chair and try to appear relaxed. “I’m well-rested, gaining weight, and completely at peace with what happened to me.”
“What about with what happened to Jimmy and Sal?” Kynan asks, and I can’t hide my body’s involuntarily flinch or my slight grimace. I can feel it, and I know he can see it. It’s the equivalent of a person getting their ribs broken, adamantly maintaining they are fit for duty, and someone giving them the slightest poke so the person doubles over in pain and reveals their weakness.
Not giving me a chance to defend myself, he merely rises and says, “If you want to work at Jameson, you’ll go to counseling with Corinne until she feels you’ve adequately explored your feelings regarding your captivity and the mission going south. I don’t care if you like it—I just want you to do it. I’m eager to have you back on full duty. If you don’t want to do it, I’ll give you a nice severance, then we can shake hands and part ways. Those are your only two choices.”
Goddamn, the man is a hard-ass. Yet… I can’t help but respect the fuck out of him. The military has always taken a more hands-off approach to mental health awareness and action, which I never used to agree with. Funny how that changes when the spotlight is on me.
A little over two weeks ago, when my plane landed in New York, I had expected my family at the gate. And there they were… my parents and all three of my siblings.
But standing with them was Kynan, which was a surprise. However, it was his way of showing he considered me family. He stayed only long enough to give me a bro hug—one of those hands-clasped, slap-on-the-back kind of thing—and to spend a few moments in the airport with my family and me as we moved through the terminal. He parted ways with us outside, promising to see me back at Jameson when I was up to it. I’d later learned he put my entire family up in a fancy hotel so we could have some time together before hopping flights to our next destinations.