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Eric set down his sandwich, shaking his head. “I don’t think an adrenaline rush will solve my problems.”
“I wasn’t suggesting a rush—”
“This investigation has real consequences, Georgia. For my company and for your brother.”
The spark of irritation she’d felt yesterday when Liam demanded to know the details of her personal life as if she were a teenager who couldn’t be trusted returned. “I know all about real consequences.”
“I know, Georgia,” he said with a sigh. “But this problem can’t be solved by jumping into cold water or with kinky sex.”
And neither could hers. She knew that despite her attempts to bury her emotions. She understood what she was feeling, and the fears that pushed her to make the choices she did, far better than Eric or her brother gave her credit for. They pretended they knew better, but they didn’t have a clue what she’d been through.
Because she hadn’t told them. She hadn’t trusted them or herself enough to share those experiences. That was on her. If she wanted them to see her strength, to understand, she had to open up.
“The other day in your bedroom or Saturday night, in the hot tub, it wasn’t about chasing the next rush. I had sex with you because I wanted you too much to walk away,” she said, her voice firm. “But you’re right. My experience overseas left me with this need to feel alive. It’s the only way I know how to keep going. There are days, less now than before, when I wake up amazed I’m still here. Why me? Of all the people who served alongside me, why did I live? And what am I doing now to prove I deserve a chance to move on when so many others didn’t?”
“Georgia, I’m sorry. You were right. I had a bad day. I should not have snapped at you,” he said quietly. “You don’t have to talk about this.”
“These memories and feelings follow me around, and I keep wondering when I’ll find the words, when I’m going to trust someone enough to let them in. And if anyone will be there to listen when I do.”
She saw the concern in his eyes. Tonight was not the night for this conversation. She knew that. But if not now, when?
“I’m here,” he said, his words strong and firm as he leaned back in his chair. “I’m listening.”
“The men and women I served with, they were good people. Mitch had a wife and a kid back home in North Carolina. Jennifer had twin girls at home. Those kids were her world, and she wanted them to be proud of her. Louis, he was raised by his grandmother and talked about her like she was a saint. They were all such good people. And then . . .”
Georgia closed her eyes. “The first time, I was traveling in a three-vehicle convoy. Mortar rounds exploded one right after the other. Louis, the gunner I was riding with, he was hit. Our vehicle was on fire. We had to get out, but Louis was unresponsive. I had to pull him out.”
She heard the sound of Eric’s chair moving across the floor, but she kept her eyes closed. She suspected he’d walked around the table, as she felt him at her side, but he didn’t touch her.
“One minute Louis was telling me about his grandmother’s cooking,” she continued. “The next I’m dragging his body out of a burning vehicle. I didn’t know we’d lost him. I thought he still had a chance. I rode with him, with his body, to the hospital after the firefight ended. But he was already gone.”
“Georgia, honey—”
“The people I met,” she continued, unable to stop now that she’d started to recount her experiences, “men and women I worked with, shared meals with, they were killed over there. Mortar attacks, IED blasts . . .”
Georgia opened her eyes and looked up at Eric, seeing the mounting worry in his blue eyes. “I know all about real consequences.”
The pity on his face sliced through her, cutting deep. She could handle so much, but not blatant sympathy.
“Don’t look at me like that.” She pushed back from the table and stood, facing him.
He shook his head. “I’m just so damn sorry you had to go through that.”
“I’m not,” she said honestly. And maybe that was the piece of the puzzle no one understood. They wanted to shield her from the memories, while she wanted to face them head-on. She wanted to live, truly live as if each breath mattered, without forgetting.
“I don’t regret serving my country,” she said. “We did great work over there. I served alongside people who believed so strongly in our mission, who believed in what our country stands for, in our freedoms. It was an honor. And to return alive—that’s a gift. One I try every day to feel worthy of. I can’t do that if I’m drowning in grief. So I push back against anything that makes me feel too much. Including you. I want to let you in, believe me I do. But I’ve been so afraid to open up when it feels like there is so little holding me together sometimes.”
“You don’t need to be afraid.” He reached out, running his hand down the side of her face. “And you don’t have to be worthy. You just have to be yourself. Who you are—that’s enough, Georgia.”
She turned her head away from his touch. Through the sliding glass doors, she stared out into the dark night. It was as if she’d slammed her fist down on the button labeled Emotions, the one she’d been so afraid to touch. And it had left her more exposed, more vulnerable, than when she’d stripped down and climbed into bed with him.
She crossed her arms tightly in front of her chest. It was funny how something as simple as sharing a memory could upend her world. Maybe she should have kept her mouth shut. He’d had a bad day. He didn’t need this tonight. And she had a sinking feeling she didn’t either. It was one thing to imagine the conversation while waiting for her toenails to dry and another to say the words.
Georgia looked back at Eric. God, she wished she could backtrack to the beginning of this conversation and start over. He probably did too.
She shook her head, her fingers pressing tight against her sides. “I bet you’re wishing you’d chosen to go skinny-dipping in the pond when you had the chance.”
Chapter Twelve
