Breaking Through (Atlanta #3) (26 page)

"Luke," Marcus said quietly. "How is she?"

"She's a fucking mess, Marcus," he uttered bitterly.

"What's her condition?"

"What fucking difference does that make? She's broken."

Marcus took a deep breath. Luke could almost hear him trying to figure out what to say. It didn't matter one bit. Nothing was going to change what happened. Nothing was going to erase the horrific scene from his mind. He watched his angel get destroyed right in front of him. Maybe if he hadn't pushed her away, maybe things would be different. Maybe she wouldn't have been in her car at that moment. Maybe she would have been at lunch with him. Every bit of her pain, inside and out, was his fault.

"Luke, look," Marcus started. Those two words…that was his breaking point. That was the last thing Luke could take. He stood up and whipped around and got in Marcus's face.
 

"No,
you
fucking look," he seethed through his teeth. "I don't know what her condition is. It's all medical shit I don't understand. All I know is she's hurting and I can't fix it!"

Marcus grabbed his collar with both hands and pulled him even closer. "Drop the fucking attitude," he hissed quietly. "Do you think Jenna needs your anger right now? Pull your shit together, Luke. This is it. Make it or break it. Handle this or leave. She has plenty of people here who love her and won't spew out all this shit right beside her. Whether she's conscious or not, makes no difference. She needs nothing but love and peace. If you can't bring that to the table, then get the fuck out."

Luke was shaking with anger, fear, frustration, and more love in his heart than he could handle. Seeing her swollen, bruised, and unconscious forced searing pain over all of him. And Marcus was right. This was the tipping point. She needed him,
without
his shit. He
had
to step up; he had to be there for her. She needed him. With no other choice, Luke finally broke. He dropped his head to Marcus's collar bone and sobbed. He crumpled slowly to the floor and Marcus crouched down with him, holding tight around his shoulders while sobs wracked his body.

"I love her," he sobbed as he gripped Marcus's t-shirt.

"I know."

"I have to get this shit out of me…" Luke said with determined strength behind his tearful words.

"It's about goddamn time. Ok, outside. Cassie and Erin will stay with Jenna. They'll let us know if anything changes," Marcus said. "Now let's get the ugly mess out of your brain so you can take care of
her
instead of
it
."
 

Marcus looked up to see his three companions watching the gut-wrenching scene with tears on their faces. Even Scott was choked up from the strength of emotions. The nurse standing there cried right along with them. He kept ahold of Luke with one hand and motioned Cassie into the room with his other. The nurse started to protest having so many people in the room with Jenna, but Cassie assured her she'd send the two men out as soon as she got in there. Seeing the depth of love everyone had for Jenna, the nurse agreed.
 

Cassie rested a loving hand on Luke's shoulder for a short moment before moving to the chair beside Jenna's bed. Cassie took Jenna's hand and started whispering close to her ear, hoping her words of love and healing would make their way into Jenna's subconscious. Marcus kissed Cassie on the head before leading Luke out of the room and down the hall.
 

In total silence, Marcus and Luke left the hospital and went to a manicured patio behind the facility. No one else was in the sitting area and Marcus was ready to hear whatever Luke would tell him. His months of anger and hints finally came to a head. Luke was going to break his silence.
 

Once he opened his proverbial Pandora's Box, Marcus knew his issues wouldn't be over, but at least they could be dealt with. He hated that Jenna's accident was the catalyst, but he was thankful for the chance to help Luke through the darkness, just like his trainer had done for him seven years earlier when he finally confessed the severity of his childhood abuse.

Now, he could pay it forward. The two sat down on the stone bench, Luke with his head in his hands, his elbows resting heavily on his knees. Marcus allowed him a few quiet moments before pressing him to talk. Luke stayed quiet and brooding before Marcus spoke.

"Let it go, man" he finally said. Luke took another moment and another deep breath before he spoke.

Luke shook his head and took a deep breath.

"Shit, Marcus, I don't know how…"

"Just say it. Words don't change what happened, but I can take half of it for you. I got this. I know how it works. I've been on your side." Marcus rested a hand on Luke's shoulder in a brotherly gesture of reassurance.

Luke shook his head again. "Most of it was typical shit. Sleeping in the sand, seeing little Arab kids with machine guns, all the nasty PTSD-causing bullshit everyone over there sees."

"So what's the rest of it?"

"I should have stopped them, and I didn't," Luke said flatly.

Marcus gave him a minute. That was the closest Luke had come to letting him in on his pain. This was not easy, and Marcus needed every bit of his patience to walk the delicate line between waiting and keeping him talking.
 

Obviously frustrated, Luke continued after a long campaign of silence. "Fuck," he breathed, shaking his head again.
 

"Fuck nothing. Talk."

"I'm not a good guy, Marcus. Not even in the Army. I didn't join because of some noble sense of patriotism. I was a fuck-up with no other options. I didn't spend my time doing anything but getting through with the bare minimum."

"You and many others, I assume."

"Nah, most of them got into the whole military honor thing. Not me. I went for solid, selfish laziness."

Luke shook his head at himself, his disgust with his former attitude obvious. He gritted his teeth and clenched his fist before he continued. "I got in trouble all the time and I tried to get out of everything."

Luke took another pause and another shaky breath while Marcus waited.

"So," he continued, "my squad was bringing supplies to another camp. I was supposed to go, but the radio equipment was acting all fucked up and I was better at fixing it than anyone else. I volunteered to stay back and deal with it. They sent another guy out on the truck in my place."

Luke started to shake. Marcus could only wait.
 

"And I had a gut feeling. More than a gut feeling. Something was off about the whole trip. We didn't normally haul supplies. We got the request from another camp for ammunition and rations over the radio, but we couldn't get any other signal. The whole thing stunk to high heaven, but I didn't say anything."

Luke started rambling faster, getting a little louder with each rushing sentence. Now that he began to finally release his guilty tension, the confession pushed out of his body with pressurized force.

"I should have stopped them but I didn't. I didn't think about anything but the happy fact that I wasn't going. I hated being on the road because that's when a lot of the fucked up shit happened. Camp was pretty dull most of the time, and that's how I liked it."

Luke's shaking got worse. "I was so damn selfish! I got what I wanted and sent the rest of them off to die," he choked, his voice now moving from flat to tight. He held back tears. "The whole thing was a set up. My entire squad, except me, was blown up on the road."

Luke cried again. Silent tears ran down his face. Marcus sat beside him, letting him handle this however he needed to. He heard the confession and his heart broke for Luke's survivor's guilt. No wonder he wanted to punish himself all the time. He held himself responsible for the deaths of his squad-mates and for living on without them.
 

God, how did he carry that around with him? Especially when the tragedy wasn't Luke's fault. War was evil, and anyone who died as a result did so because of the nature of war, not because of any one individual act. Marcus waited a while longer for Luke to finish with his tears before he chose his words carefully. Knowing Luke's preference for brevity, Marcus had only one thing to say.

"It's not your fault."

Luke let out a sob. "Yes it is, Marcus…"

"No, it's not your fault," Marcus repeated. And then he repeated it again a few moments later to an increasingly emotional Luke.
 

"I should have died with them," he nearly screamed.

"It's not your fault, Luke," Marcus assured him quietly.
 

Luke shook his head almost violently. "I didn't stop them."

"You didn't set the bomb; you didn't give the order to go out on the road."

Luke nearly screamed. A desperate sound of anguish pushed out loudly from deep in his chest. "Why didn't I go?"

"Because you were helping at camp. Not your fault."

Luke sobbed again. "I didn't stop them."

"Luke, listen to me.
This is not your fault.
Do you really think they would have stayed if you said anything? That truck was going out either way. They acted on orders from higher up. Not your fault."

Luke broke down even further. "Yes it is! I said nothing!"

 
"Damn it, listen! This is not your fault! Yes, you survived. Be thankful. If not, you wouldn't be here loving Jenna. Being loved by Jenna. I
know
she loves you. Erin told me the whole story before we knew it was you. She
loves
you. That's a gift. Accept it."

Luke whispered now, his sobs calming into deep sadness. "I don't deserve it."

"No one deserves that kind of love, which is why it knocks you over when you get it anyway. You think I deserve Erin? I sure as hell don't, but none of that matters because she loves me, just like Jenna loves you. She needs you now. Maybe you survived for her. Don't look at it like you should have died. You survived because you needed to live, for this moment. Jenna has a long road ahead. She needs you."

Luke shook his head. "That's fucked up thinking."

"No, feeling responsible for shit you can't control: that's fucked up thinking."

Luke wiped the tears from his eyes and finally looked at Marcus, looking for confirmation, looking for absolution. "How do I do this?"

"First, you keep telling me everything.
Everything
. Even the 'normal PTSD-causing bullshit'. Second, you get yourself some real counseling. There's a ton available for war vets. Do it, and that's an order. You want to keep training at my gym? Get yourself help. Got it?"

Luke nodded in defeat. He was emotionally drained, but surprisingly lighter from confessing the darkness which had plagued him for nearly two years. Marcus really did take a piece of it from him. More tears leaked out from relief. He said the words, and no lightening struck. No judging chorus of hate surrounded him. Only relief and the chance to fucking cry.

"Yeah, I got it."

The two sat for nearly a half-hour longer. Luke clenched his jaw sometimes and silently cried at others. Marcus sat and let him, sometimes resting a fraternal hand on Luke's shoulder while he finally allowed himself to deal with the pain of his tragedy.
 

When Luke finally calmed and looked up at the scene around him, Marcus good-naturedly pushed his shoulder. "About damn time," he said with a hint of a smile.

"Fuck you," Luke half-grinned.

"Yep, there you are. Welcome back," Marcus said, now smiling genuinely. "Now pull yourself together and go upstairs to hold her hand. I'll have Cassie get you a cot for her room. She's got connections here."

"I'll sleep in the chair or on the floor," Luke muttered, his frustration sneaking into his voice again.

"No. No more of your shit, Luke," Marcus said pointedly. "No more self-hating punishment. It's a bad habit and it's over now. You take a cot, whether you think you deserve it or not. It's just a cot, nothing more."

Luke nodded and stood up with Marcus. Marcus clapped him on the back while Luke finished wiping the last tears from his eyes. He took a few deep breaths and headed toward the hospital doors. "Thanks."

"Yep."

CHAPTER TWELVE

For the third day straight, Luke showed up at the hospital after only half a shift at the butcher shop. George kindly let him work part time while Jenna remained in a medically-induced coma. Marcus, too, arranged Luke's workouts around Jenna. He demanded Luke keep coming to the gym, but only for strength training. He didn't bother with focus, strategy, or skills.
 

The biggest difference over the past three days, however, was the decompression of his entire body. The tension-filled squeeze of his ribs eased after finally confessing his darkness. His shoulders were no longer pinned down from above. Every angst-ridden cell in his body had been rebuilt into a lighter, stronger form.
 

His guilt hadn't lessened, and he still blamed himself solidly for the deaths of his friends. The physical strain of the guilt, however, let up some. Sadly, that angst was replaced by worry over Jenna, but this new worry stemmed from love. This worry was laced with hope of a beautiful future, not the darkness of an ugly past. The difference was profound.

On the fourth day after the accident, Luke got to the hospital around 11 a.m. and saw Cassie sitting and chatting with Jenna as if she were part of the conversation. She was rambling about her latest thrift store find.
 

Cassie stopped as soon as she heard Luke walk in. With a bright, sunny smile, Cassie greeted him. "Hi! We were just talking about socks."

Luke attempted a smile. "Hey, Cassie."

Cassie walked to him and hugged him tight. "The doctor told me the swelling in her brain went down significantly overnight."

"It did?" he looked hopeful as he let Cassie out of the hug.
 

She beamed at him. "It did."

Luke pulled over a chair and sat beside Jenna's bed with Cassie. Luke held Jenna's hand gently and leaned down to lightly kiss her bruises.
 

Cassie gave him a smile. "I'm glad you're back because I need to get to the clinic. But can I tell you something first?"