Because, while the loneliness was there to stay with me for a while like an unwanted roommate, I could cling to our time together and remind myself that Charlie wasn't the only man in the world. There were others out there who would find me desirable and sexy. And that the loneliness and pain I was feeling so keenly in that m
oment, wasn't going to last forever.
DREW
“So what happened to you while you were over there?” Dr. Emerson asked. “The notes don't go into too much detail about what you went through, but they mention somebody in your unit named Mason Shoemaker –”
I flinched when she spoke and it was almost as if she'd slapped me. Honestly, I would have preferred it if she had. I probably would have preferred a million other things other than her bringing up Mason. I sat on the couch across from her, doing everything within my power to avoid turning the conversation toward her. The temptation to crack a joke or talk about anything other than Mason or my time overseas was strong. And it was apparently my most common avoidance tactic.
I leaned back on the couch and actually felt myself drawing inward beneath her scrutiny. I wasn't one who could ever be considered a wilting flower. I didn't back down from anybody and always confronted things head on. But for some reason, when it came to Dr. Emerson – specifically, Dr. Emerson prying into my past – I just clammed up. Intimidated wasn't the right word, but it was probably close. That uncertainty was a new, strange feeling – and one I didn't care for, truth be told.
And she knew that cracking jokes or diverting the conversation was my way of getting out of talking about myself, and especially about what happened over there – and called me out on it regularly.
“Who was he, Drew? This – Mason?”
I remained quiet for a moment and tried to sink into the couch cushions. I didn't want to talk about Mason. There were things I didn't want to talk about. Things she wouldn't understand. Things nobody who didn't serve, didn't have to do what we had to do, would understand. There were also things I couldn't talk about – aspects of our missions that were still classified. Aspects that helped shape and define my relationship with Mason. It was a fine line and one that I had to tread carefully. A line I didn't know that I even wanted to approach, let alone cross.
“Drew?” she asked softly.
“Mason was my – best friend,” I finally said in a voice barely more than a whisper.
“Oh, I'm sorry.” Her eyes grew wide, her expression one of sympathy. “I'm very sorry for your loss.”
“Yeah, that's what everybody says,” I muttered to myself, avoiding the look in her eyes. “No offense, but it doesn't particularly help. I mean, it's not like you knew him or anything... ”
“No, but I can see that his passing had a profound effect on you. And I'm sorry for that. It's a pain nobody should have to endure.”
I nodded. “I appreciate that. It's just – I don't know,” I said, shaking my head. “I don't know what I mean.”
“Well, what would you prefer I say, Drew?”
I shrugged. “There's really nothing you can say,” I said. “That's not a knock on you, it's just that there's nothing anyone can say to make it better. I watched as my best friend was blown to pieces right in front of me. My uniform was coated in his blood. And the real bitch of it is, that it's all my fault.”
“It's not –”
“Yes, it is. You don't know what you're talking about. You weren't there,” I snapped.
She lowered her eyes and looked abashed. “No, I wasn't there. But from what I know of you –”
I snorted derisively. “No offense, but you don't know anything about me,” I said, my voice rising. “The only thing you really know about me is that I'm really good in the sack.”
Her cheeks colored, but when she raised her eyes and looked straight at me, I could see the defiance in them. I'd crossed a line and had pissed her off. But to her credit, she remained composed and didn't let my outburst rattle her.
“We're getting a little off topic, Drew,” she said. “I know you're angry – and we certainly can talk about the reasons for your anger. I'm sure they're justifiable. But I'm not the enemy here, so let's just take a breath and try to calm down a bit.”
I sighed and slumped back in my seat. She was right. I wasn't pissed at her. She just happened to be there and was an easy target. I felt bad for cracking back on her like I had.
“You okay?” she asked.
I nodded. “Yeah. Sorry.”
“It's okay,” she replied. “Please, go on.”
I cleared my throat and looked up, but still couldn't force myself to meet her eyes. “It is my fault because what everyone seems to forget – what isn't in the official reports – is that I was supposed to run point on that mission. Me. But I sent Mason out ahead of me instead. I hung back a bit and screwed around because I thought it was going to be boring as shit. It was just a standard recon. We hadn't had any enemy contact in a few days and everything was quiet. It was supposed to be mellow. But guess what? He walked right over an IED that I failed to detect because I figured we were safe and didn't have my head on straight. I sent him out there ahead of me and he got blown to shit because of it. Because I didn't do my goddamn job. That should have been me. Not him.”
My heart felt like it was breaking all over again and my eyes welled with tears, but I fought them off. I gritted my teeth and squeezed my eyes shut tight, cursing myself for giving in and crying. Again. And more than that, for crying, right in front of a woman I'd fucked a little more than a week ago. Yeah, I was sure my little display of weakness in her office was getting her all hot and wet for me again.
“Listen, I'm not comfortable –” I said, standing up and heading toward the door. “I have to leave. I can't do this anymore –”