Page 120 of Reeves

“You don’t need me to tell you this, but stuff like that doesn’t fix itself. You keep compensating, and you’re going to make it worse, and possibly cause another injury on the other side.”

“Yeah,” I say after a second. “Guess I’m out of time on pretending it’ll fix itself. Occupational hazard.”

“Injury aside, the Navy looks good on you. You made the right move."

I don’t answer right away.

I glance down at her. “Yeah. It has been good for me.”

“You've been talking about the military and leaving New Orleans for as long as I've known you. I’m glad you did it.”

"It took losing you to finally do it."

That admission is substantial. The silence stretches out. It's not uncomfortable, exactly. Just heavy with all the history between us.

She tilts her head up to look at me. "I wouldn't say you lost me. You left, Reeves."

I exhale slowly. I did leave.

"We both said we couldn't keep breaking up, getting back together, and fighting about the same things over and over." I shift slightly, getting more comfortable. "You told me you were done."

"We always said that when we fought."

"True. But I knew it wasn't fair to you. I also knew I wasn't strong enough to stop putting you through that hell. Not unless I had no choice but to leave.”

"One hell of a diversion."

"It worked."

"Did it?"

Good point, as we lie together naked on her couch.

"For a while."

“SEALs, though? You really went all in on that."

Her question is simple but not casual. She's always been goodat that. Asking the thing she actually wants to know without wrapping it in small talk.

"A lot of guys make it to BUD/S. Not many make it through." I pause, trying to find the right words. "I could’ve gone officer, taken a safer route. My father certainly would have preferred that."

“It’s so you to choose the hardest option."

"Yeah."

She's quiet for a minute, processing that. Her hand moves absently against my arm, and I realize she's doing it without thinking. The same way she used to touch me when we were talking about real things.

"What was training like?"

"Brutal. That’s the point. They just keep pushing until something gives. You get a few days in, and you stop thinking straight. That’s when most guys quit."

I think back to those months. The cold water, the sleep deprivation, the instructors whose job was to make us break.

"A lot of guys with something to prove don’t last. The ones who make it through usually have something they’re trying to outrun."

"What were you running from?"

You. Us. The way loving you scared the shit out of me.