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Well, if that wasn’t the sweetest damn thing he’d said all evening…
“I’ve also got to move therapists. That should take a good five years with how slow the VA moves.”
I wanted to laugh, but it wasn’t really an exaggeration.
“I can try to contact the VA for you tomorrow, see what I can do.”
“Hopefully my therapist will transfer me over. Crossing fingers.”
I let it go and let the lull of the warm evening air around me take me under to sleepyland.
“Love you,” he whispered, holding me just a little tighter.
I was basically asleep, but I managed to smile, thanking God for this sweet, damaged, incredible man.
Chapter 36
Ashton
My boss was a rock star. He was a vet himself, and when I told him that I had found the love of my fucking life, he was cool with me leaving. He’d asked me to stay on over the weekend because they were stacked, which was fine by me. I got my hands dirty and did the best I could for the guy, catching him up for the week ahead. When I left Sunday evening, he gave me a firm handshake and my last check, and we parted ways with a promise of a job if I ever needed one again.
Solid dude.
I had an appointment with my therapist on Tuesday, but after that, there was nothing keeping me there.
A quick trip to the bank let me withdrawal my half of Yamin’s mortgage for the next two months, then a stop at Home Depot afforded me a few small boxes, mailing tape, and one fat Sharpie because evidently Yamin didn’t own a single fucking one.
I got my stuff together and stared at the collection of things laying on the queen bed that had been home for the last two years. It felt oddly emotional to think that I wouldn’t be back. At least, not to live. Leaving parts of your life behind was always painful, even if you fucking hated it. But I hadn’t. I hadn’t hated my life. Sure, I’d been lonely, but things had gotten so much better in so many ways. I’d accepted the death of myself as a Raider. I’d accepted my broken mind, and because of that, I’d been able to work through most of the trauma from getting half blown to bits and the proceeding months of agonizing recovery. The PTSD wasn’t cured, but it was manageable most of the time. I could breathe and talk myself through it within a few minutes, which was a big step up from grabbing the nearest girl named Freya and holding her hostage while I sobbed into her hair.
Ok, that only happened once, but I was still ashamed of it. Luckily Freya had forgiven me. Or maybe she’d just forgotten, because she’d never brought it up again.
Grabbing up my blues, I put them in a box first, along with my white hat in the box it came in. There weren’t a ton of reasons to wear it, but when I did, it felt pretty unbelievable. Now? I couldn’t help but imagine Freya in some fancy as fuck white princess dress and me in my blues. Dumb, but that’s where my mind wandered. It’d only been two days, but I missed her.
Thumbing the red piping, I remembered the incredible feeling of putting on my blood stripes. They had been hard earned, but becoming a Corporal had been quite the monumental step. It was also when I’d decided to move into the Raiders, which still took a couple more years. I’d always had a goal to move toward. Today was no different. Now? I was working toward being the best damn boyfriend that I could possibly be. Maybe, if I was a seriously lucky bastard, I’d be able to work on being the best husband, and then the best dad, ever.
A kid with Freya’s blonde hair blew through my mind. A little girl with ponytails.
“Not yet,” I told myself, slowing things down.
Even though I knew I wanted her forever, and we’d talked about more very briefly with her parents, but that didn’t mean I should be fantasizing about our future kids. I was just a mover. Stagnance was like living in a personal hell for me. That didn’t mean I could pull her along at my own pace.
Damn civvie living was hard. I wasn’t bred for normalcy. I was a fucking machine, and that was something that I’d always been proud of. Didn’t help me amongst the normies, though.
Gently folding my matching white belt, I shoved it into the center of the hat frame and put it into the bottom of the box, along with several metals that I’d earned over the years.
There was so much to be proud of with the service I’d given to my country. I just needed to find a new passion and a new thing to work towards, and Freya couldn’t be it. I would end up destroying things if I tried to do that.
The front door squeaked as it cracked open. Only two people had keys, and I knew I’d locked it after coming in. That meant it was—
“Hey!” Yamin called from the front door when I hurried out of my bedroom. “I’m back, bitches!”
I gave him a big hug, knowing he probably just flew in after several weeks in the trenches. He certainly smelled like that’s where he’d been.
“You sad son of a bitch, you look like shit,” I said, feeling a shot of envy blow through me, wishing that we’d been there together in those trenches.
“How was your trip?” he asked, scratching his armpit through his t-shirt.
“Get a shower,” I told him. “I’ll get some pizza and beer and you can tell me all about your latest mission.”
