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Cade was impressed with her, too, with her patience and determination.
“I think everyone has this wrong,” Dean said, addressing the subject for the first time. “Maybe Cade needs Hope in his life.”
“Not if she’s bringing trouble with her,” Ricardo insisted. “We got all we can handle as it is. Taking on anyone else’s is a no-win situation.”
“Doesn’t anyone else see the connection?” Dean gave a small smile. Cade had noticed that his fellow veteran often had insight that escaped the others.
“Tell us what you mean,” Harry encouraged.
“It should be obvious,” Dean said. “Cade sees himself in this dog. If I’ve learned anything in these sessions, it’s that the psychological injuries require just as much healing, if not more, than whatever else upended our lives.”
What Dean said was something Cade should have understood himself, and yet somehow it had escaped him. He had unconsciously seen himself in Shadow. He, too, was angry. And like the feral dog, Cade didn’t want anyone befriending him, either. As he watched Hope patiently and gently work with Shadow, he felt inexplicably drawn to her.
“You might be right,” Cade was willing to admit. “But that doesn’t explain why I would reject the very thing I wanted most.”
“The pork chops or Hope?” Shelley asked, and they all laughed.
“Hope,” Cade admitted.
“I think it does explain it,” Silas said, looking thoughtful, staring down at the floor. “What Cade’s shared is something we’re all facing in one way or another.”
“Say more about that,” Harry urged.
“I don’t know that I can…”
“Give it a try.” Harry’s voice was encouraging.
Silas continued focusing his eyes on the floor. “When I first arrived home, after several months in the hospital, the family was all over me with sympathy and understanding. My girl was by my side.” He hesitated and swallowed hard. “And then she wasn’t.”
Any number of times Cade had heard the story of how Silas had been engaged to a beautiful, talented woman who owned her own small business. Silas had boasted about her success and how eager he was for them to get married. Only Yvonne had continued to delay making wedding plans. In the end, she admitted she couldn’t live with a man so badly scarred.
Soon afterward, Silas had gone on a downward spiral that had resulted in an attempt to take his life. He’d only recently rejoined the group. From what Cade had heard, he’d come a long way since then.
“I had a loving family,” Silas continued. “They were with me one hundred percent. The thing is, I couldn’t stand to be around them. I wanted nothing to do with my parents or my sisters. That was when the heavy drinking started.”
“Why do you think you rejected your family?” Harry asked.
Silas chuckled. “For the same reason Cade turned down a home-cooked meal.” He looked up and locked eyes with Cade. “I understand, buddy, I get you.”
Cade was glad someone did, because he was lost in his own messed-up head.
“I held on to Yvonne’s rejection,” Silas admitted, shaking his head as if regretting the fact that he’d spared her a single thought. “I told myself I was glad she called off the wedding. I nursed that pain, held on to it for all I was worth, wallowing in self-pity.”
Cade remembered the first session after Silas got the news. He’d sat in the circle and seethed with unmistakable anger until Harry coaxed Yvonne’s rejection out of him.
“The pain was comfortable: like my favorite pair of jeans,” Silas continued. “And convenient, too, which is why I turned into someone even my mother had trouble loving. I had no desire to move forward, let alone live.”
Cade hated to be obtuse. “I don’t think I understand what you’re saying.”
“Let me put it like this,” Silas said. “We know you lost your friends in Afghanistan.”
“They were my family, my brothers.”
“I understand, but you’re alive and they’re not.”
Cade didn’t need the reminder. He didn’t want to think about Luke and Jeremy, although they all too frequently made appearances in his dreams.
“If you’re talking about survivor’s guilt, I don’t want to hear it,” Cade barked. This was an excruciating mental path he’d walked all too often; it had left deep grooves in his brain like ruts in a much-traveled road.
