Capturing Peace (Sharing You 0.50)

But everything had once again felt too real. I could feel the dry heat, hear the tortured screams, smell the rust, human waste, and gunpowder, see the—­

I pushed the heels of my palms against my eyes, and let out an agonized breath.

Standing from the couch I’d fallen asleep on sometime late this morning, I pulled my sweat-­soaked clothes off my body and threw them in the hamper as I walked toward the bathroom. Turning the water on as hot as it would go, I paced anxiously as I waited for the room to

begin steaming up before standing under the scorching spray. I gritted my teeth against the initial sting, but soon my body began relaxing under the relentless pelting, and I rested my hands against the wall, letting my head hang as I tried to forget.

Some of the men on base told me it was best to let go. Let go? I couldn’t fucking let go. They were gone. My men were gone . . . and I hadn’t saved them. I’d had to see their wives, their children, and their families when I’d returned. I’d had to look one of their very pregnant wives in the face and tell her I hadn’t been able to keep my promise in bringing her husband back.

There was no letting that shit go. Not when the only reason I was here, instead of in the ground with them, was because I’d fallen into a trap—­which triggered the ambush—­and was knocked unconscious while they were all captured. I should have been paying better attention. I should have seen it coming. And I hadn’t.

Yeah . . . there was no way to “let go.”

Stepping out of the shower, I grabbed a towel and was drying my skin when I heard my phone go off in the other room. Moving quickly toward it, I frowned when I saw the name on the screen. I swear, it was like he knew now was not the time to talk.

But for some reason, I still answered.

“Yeah?”

“Steele! How’ve you been?”

I sat down on the couch and bit back a sigh. “Good. What’s new in the Saco house?”

There was silence for a few moments before he said, “Did you have a nightmare?”

I finally released the sigh and sat back on the couch, running my hand over my face. “I asked what’s new in the Saco house.”

“And I asked if you had a fucking nightmare.”

“Of course I had fucking flashbacks, I have to sleep at some point!”

“Steele . . . man, you’ve got to talk to someone.”

“Don’t need to. They won’t understand. All they’ll do is piss me off because they’ll act like they know how I feel. They’ll act like they know what I went through. And why? Because they have a goddamn degree? Fuck that. No, I’m not talking to anyone.”

“You can’t do this to yourself. You can’t live like this. I thought—­I thought you said it was getting better.”

I stared blankly at the ceiling and shrugged even though he couldn’t see me. “It is.” He didn’t respond, and I didn’t expand on that for a few moments. “It’s her, Saco. I don’t know what it is about her. But when I’m around her, it’s all gone. There’s nothing. No missions. No men left behind. No—­” I cut off and ground my jaw.

I’d told Saco all about Reagan and Parker, and the struggles I’d gone through just to get Reagan to give us a chance. I just hadn’t told him that she also made all the bullshit disappear, because at the time there hadn’t been a reason to.

“Nothing,” he said suspiciously.

“Nothing,” I confirmed. “And when I sleep with her, I actually sleep. For hours . . . uninterrupted, no flashbacks, nothing. Reagan and Parker are my peace,” I mumbled the words I’d told Reagan almost a month ago, not at all worried about Saco judging me for them. He knew what this meant for me.

“And does she know about this?”

“She knows what she can.”

Saco was quiet for a long time before he finally huffed a short laugh. “Does she have any idea what she means to you?”

“Not a clue. But I’m trying to show her.”

“Good, man. I’m happy for you. I bet Hudson is too.”

I raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know about that. I mean, he is, but I’ve already been punched once.”

Saco laughed loudly and I rolled my eyes.