Page 97 of Point of Contact

“But how can you not, bud?” Jesse asked gently. “It’s eating you alive.” He put his hand over Evan’s, which was trembling, and squeezed. “You don’t have to live like this.”

Evan blinked rapidly, his eyes glistening with tears, but then he ripped his hand away and stood up again, forcing Jesse to fall back on his ass.

“Easy for you to say,” he sneered. “Perfect Jesse Byrne.”

Jesse stared up at him from where he was sprawled on the porch floor. “Perfect? What the hell are you talking about?”

“Oh, yeah. Perfect Byrney. Perfect soldier, perfect friend. Not a screwup, not—” He broke off, the tears finally spilling over. “Not fucked up.”

Evan wiped his face on his sleeve before reaching down to haul Jesse to his feet. With a sigh he leaned his butt against the railing, arms crossed over his chest, head down.

Jesse mirrored his pose, his heart aching for him. “We all came home fucked up, Watty. It’s not a sign of weakness to ask for help with it.”

“Did you ask for help?” Evan demanded, and his eyes widened when Jesse nodded.

“Yeah, I did. After months of nightmares, not sleeping, grief, rage...”

“So you went to a shrink?” Evan’s voice was disbelieving.

“Yes.”

Evan grunted. “What, some asshole who threw pills at you and looked at you like this when you told him about killing people?” He made an exaggerated grimace of distaste, pursing his mouth like a disapproving old aunt.

“It was someone at the Vet Center, and no, he didn’t prescribe me any fuckin’ pills. He’s a combat vet, and what he did was listen to me and help me work through some stuff.”

Jesse could see Evan considering that.

“A shrink who’s a combat vet?” he asked tentatively. “Not just some guy who works in the system and tries to fuck you over?”

“He was in Fallujah. Does that tell you anything? He was in the shit, and he lost guys over there. Dude, he knew exactly what I was going through, and he didn’t bullshit me for one minute. Listen.” Jesse turned to face him. “He told me the anger, this feeling of disconnect, all of it, it’s normal, man. You’re not sick, or weak, or mentally ill. Transitioning home from war is a process, Watty. Cut yourself some slack.”

Evan’s lips trembled. “How can I?” he forced out. “When it’s all m-my fault?”

Here we go.

With a trembling hand Jesse reached out to grip Evan’s shoulder and look him right in the eyes, praying once again for wisdom. “Hey. Imagine Estes was in front of you right now. Don’t you think he’d be fuckin’ pissed to know you’re blaming yourself so much for his death that you’re letting it ruin your life? Think about it. He would’ve gladly taken that bullet for you if he’d been given the choice. You would’ve gladly taken it for him if you’d been given it. But you weren’t. The bullet chose.”

Evan sobbed once, pulling away. “I need a beer.”

“No, you don’t.” Jesse held on to him. “You need to grieve for him, Watty. Stop burying it under your guilt. Stop trying to be what you think a hero should be. A hero asks for help. A strong man asks for help.”

Settling both hands firmly on Evan’s shoulders, Jesse croaked, “Steer into the skid, brother. Someone brave, and so goddamned strong I will be in awe of him for the rest of my life, told me that. Steer into it, and don’t be afraid. You’re not alone.”

Jesse didn’t wipe away the tears on his own cheeks, letting Evan see them. After a moment Evan slumped back against the railing again. “I feel alone,” he admitted hollowly. “It’s like everyone thinks because you made it home, you must be okay. You ain’t missin’ any arms or legs, so you must be fine. Right?”

“Yeah.”

“No one wants to hear about it, not really. No one wants to hear that if you could, you’d take a fuckin’ helicopter back there tomorrow.” He tensed as if expecting a blow, peeping up at Jesse.

Jesse nodded. “I’d take one back there today.”

Now Evan’s tears started to flow in earnest. “God, I felt so fucked up thinking that, Byrney. Sami would go apeshit if she knew, man. Jesus.”

“That guy I talked to told me all that was normal, too.”

Evan wiped his nose on the back of his hand. “Fuck, you really did talk about everything.”

“I did. Everything. About Estes, too.”