Second Chance: A Military Football Romance

“Oh, that,” he looked away and then walked toward the window. “Yeah, well…”

“You want to talk about it?” I asked.

With his back to me, he shook his head and then walked over, grabbed the remote, and flipped on the news. The sound of the morning’s activities filled the silent room, acting as a deterrent for more questions. He didn’t want to talk with me, but I didn’t accept this.

“Brian,” I said loud enough to be heard over the television. “You know there are places where you can get help for PTSD, right?”

“I don’t recall asking you for advice,” he said in a low voice.

“I’m just saying that there are ways you can deal with this!” I replied. I wasn’t going to let him brush me off that easily.

“You know what, Ava?” he growled. “I think it would be wise if you’d clean up your own house before you start trying to air out mine.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” I replied in an annoyed tone.

“I’m just saying that before you try and make me deal with my problems, you should probably deal with your own, first!” he shouted. “You are a hot mess, you know that, don’t you?”

“Me? I’m a hot mess?” I yelled back. “Oh, that’s a good one! The guy who can’t make it through the night without screaming in his sleep tells me I’m a hot mess. Very nice.”

“Careful,” he warned as he stared at me. “You’re treading on thin, thin ice.”

“You’re the one who started it!” I shot back.

“Ava, I don’t want to talk about my issues,” he said calmly. “I’ve told you I don’t want to see a shrink, and I mean it. A stranger is not going to help me sort out the mess that’s in my head. So let it go.”

“Fine,” I shrugged. “Whatever, but you really should think about talking to someone. Anyone. Family? Friends?”

“Right, that’s a great option,” he laughed without humor. “Dump all the crap that happened to me on my friends and family so they can live with it? Not happening.”

“Oh, the irony,” I sighed.

“What’s so ironic about that?” he asked, genuinely curious.

“Nothing,” I murmured. “Never mind.”

“Look, I’m sorry,” he said as he sat down next to me on the couch. “I know you mean well, it’s just that I don’t want to talk to anyone about it.”

“Not even me?” I asked in a small voice as I looked into his eyes. Brian held my gaze for a few seconds before reaching out and pulling me into his arms.

“Not even you, Ava,” he whispered into my hair. I wrapped my arms around his waist and laid my cheek on his chest as I felt him breathing.

*****

We sat entwined on the couch for what felt like a really long time. Neither one of us said a word, we just held on to each other for dear life and waited for the panicked feeling to pass. Or at least that’s what I did. Brian didn’t give much away, and since I couldn’t see his face, I couldn’t tell what he was thinking. So I let go and enjoyed the feeling of safety and security that I felt when he wrapped his arms around me. I closed my eyes and let myself forget where I was and that my life was a disaster at the moment.

“Are you hungry? Do you want to get some breakfast?” Brian murmured as he stroked my back and ran his fingers through my hair.

“Mmmm hmmm,” I nodded against his chest without opening my eyes.

“Then you go get ready and we’ll get out of this room for a bit, okay?” he said.

“Okay,” I mumbled. I was warm and drowsy against his chest, but my stomach was rumbling, and I knew it wouldn’t be long before I’d be so hungry I’d want one of everything on the menu. Brian slowly lifted me off of him and helped me stand, then gently pushed me toward the bedroom.

“Go get dressed. I’m starving!” he laughed as I fake stumbled toward the bedroom.

“I’m not sure I like the way you push me around, sailor,” I grumbled as I made a show of how much energy it took to get ready.

“You are such a drama queen!” he laughed harder as I shot him a dirty look and went to put on some clothes.