Captured at Nightfall (Capture My Heart Love Story) (26 page)

“This device is used for something called
neurofeedback training, or NFT. The other therapies in which you have previously participated were trying to get you to respond differently to certain stimuli. Your previous therapist had you “
visualize”
the difficult memories in an attempt to change your reaction to them and, thus, reduce the intensity of the flashback; though it was quite obviously unsuccessful. NFT has been used by the military for some time as a part of its mental toughness program. Wearing these sensors, you will essentially be playing video games as your brain activity is monitored on this screen.” The doctor pointed to a computer monitor on a desk beside the dentist chair. “We will follow your brain’s activity and then retrain it to respond more appropriately to stimulus. NFT has proven quite effective in PTSD patients, such as yourself.”

“PTSD.”
Matthew let the words roll off his tongue, like he’d never allowed the word to be applied to himself before.

Dr.
Nik smiled. “Many patients enjoy it.”

Matthew
seemed intrigued by the whole video game therapy deal. After they left the room, Dr. Nik turned to them. “Allison, would it be okay if I spoke with just Matthew for the remainder of the hour?”

“Yes. Sure.” She turned her eyes up to
Matthew. “You good?”

“Yeah.”
Matthew agreed, gradually.

“I’ll just hang out in the reception room.” She stood up on her tiptoes to kiss
Matthew lightly on his cheek and walked back to her waiting stack of magazines to bunker down for the rest of the session.

When
Matthew came out a little while later, he looked like he’d been through the ringer. He was still upright and the doc wasn’t missing any teeth, however, so Allie figured she could give two points to therapy.

Matthew
went over to the receptionist lady to schedule his next appointment while Allie turned Fruit Ninja off her phone and grabbed her purse. Finished with the paperwork crap, he turned, leaving poor, poor receptionist with only the memory of his perfect ass as he walked over to Allie.

“Ready?” H
is eyes didn’t make it up to hers.

“Yeah.”

He breathed out a heavy sigh to pull himself together. His shoulders went back with some effort and he grabbed onto Allie’s hand. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

Okay.
She looked up into his face, wishing she could crawl around inside his head and toss out whatever ugliness was eating at him. The walk down to the elevator was silent, and so was the whole ride down to the first floor. No sexy exchanges or flirting. Matthew was a wooden facsimile of himself, anxiety coming off in waves.

What had he and Dr.
Nik talked about that had Matthew’s stress meter hitting the upper atmosphere?

Allie
peeked up at him from under her lashes.

His mouth was tight. Jaw set. Eyes . . . haunted.

Oh, man
.

Allie
hoped this had been a good idea. “You okay?”

H
e didn’t even look down at her. “Yeah. I’m good,” his words a pale attempt at convincing her.

She squeezed his hand a little tighter, wanting to tell him how much she loved him. How proud she was of him for going. How things would get better.

She settled for the silence and let him tow her out the front doors of the VA.

At the Escalade
Matthew pulled her around to the passenger side and started to open her door. Shaking hands settled on the door handle and then constricted, like he was thinking about ripping the thing off. When his fist pounded into the door Allie jumped. He spun around on her and she was suddenly yanked into his hard arms. He hunched into her, wrapped around her body, his face burried in her hair, his eyes tightly closed. No crying or anything sissy like that.

Not for
Matthew,
oh no
.

He just sat there, draped around her, while
Allie was on the verge of being crushed to death.

Her arms wriggled free of his death hold and slipped around his waist. He was warm.
His muscles solid and strong. But he was so damn broken.

“Hey,” she breathed. “It’s okay.
Whatever it is. It’s okay.”

She felt him nod against her shoulder, and then, with a shudder,
he pulled back.

“Sorry,” he murmured while he loosened his grip. Green eyes met hers for the first time since he’d come out of the therapist’s office.

“It’s fine.” She drew him down to her mouth before he could leave her arms and placed a slow, soft kiss against his lips. As his mouth opened to hers, she tried to put all that she couldn’t say to him into the kiss they shared. While he was closed off from her emotionally at times, the way they connected with their bodies could put more emotion between them than any words could. The press of hands and fingers, the tightening of arms around her waist as his tongue conquered hers showed Allie everything he was feeling but couldn’t bring himself to say. He was lost, afraid, and needed her.

Thinking about their relationship, she didn’t get why he’d chosen to be with her, and even more central: let her in when it was so difficult for him. What had he found in her that so many other girls hadn’t had? She had wallflower written all over her.
Nothing special, except when she was with him. Then they each orbited around the other, the only ones in their own little universe. 

When he pulled away some of the pain in his face ha
d been replaced by desire . . . and something else. Something that looked a lot like love.

She
cursed herself inwardly.
Don’t start thinking that way or you’ll be destroyed.
She wasn’t stupid; hadn’t forgotten that he’d never told her he cared about her on any kind of deeper level. But, damn it. The way he looked at her right now made her want to share their little world for eternity.

Calm down,
Allie. You stupid sap. This isn’t a freaking soap opera.
“You’re sure you’re okay?” She dropped her eyes, afraid to let him see too much of what she’d been thinking a second ago.

He nodded.

“Want to talk about it?”
Okay, so she was pressing a little
.

When his eyes flared, she wanted to kick herself.

“I . . . no.” His throat worked his Adam’s apple up and down. “No. I’m good.”

Allie
sighed and tried to mask her discouragement the best she could. “Ready to go?” She forced her lips up into a half-smile.

“Yeah.”
He opened her door and helped her up into the cab of the Escalade.

When he was inside with her and the SUV was purring she turned sideways in the seat. “So . . . I don’t know if you’ve g
ot plans, or work, or whatever”—
Geeze; why was she so nervous?
—“but, I thought . . . since you say I’m always getting myself into trouble . . . you could teach me to be a big, bad, motherfucking SEAL.”

He looked over at her, his mouth hanging open and caught somewhere between shock and amusement. After a few seconds of blinking, he hit her with a full out, mega-watt, split-your-face-in-two grin that just about took
Allie’s breath away. “A big, bad, motherfucking SEAL, huh? Don’t think I’ve ever heard you say fuck before.” His thumb worked over his chin while his teeth kept up with the flashing.

“Yeah, well, it’s not
twatwaffle
or anything creative.”

“Oh, my hell.”
He actually snorted this time. “Where the
hell
did you hear that?”

“Facebook.”

As he laughed, the atmosphere dissipated of all its melancholy and was instantly lighter.

“What exactly constitutes training for becoming a big, bad, motherfucker like me?”

Oh, so he was gonna play cocky now, huh?
She didn’t have much to come back at him with that could knock him off his awesomeness soapbox, since he pretty much backed it all up every second of the day. His eyes were dancing with humor—or sadism—she couldn’t tell. She could only imagine the creative torture he could come up with in the name of “training”. He was, no doubt, checking out all her wimpy musculature right this minute, and coming up with a whole assortment of ways to beat her into toughness.

“No s
kydiving. Like, ever,” she quickly said. “No knife throwing, or Russian roulette, or whatever the heck you psychos must do in your spare time.” She grinned back at him.

“Not
a fan of Russian roulette, but skydiving? Come on.” His eyes gleamed. “It has some possibilities. Ever thought of joining the mile high club outside a plane?”

She batted her lashes at him and smiled sweetly. “You’re such a gentleman. Bet you say that to all the girls.”

“Never told anyone I was in the teams before; so I haven’t been able to really joke around about it. Other than with my brothers and Stacy, you know.”

It was
Allie’s turn to do the open-mouth hang thing. “Seriously?”

“Yeah.”
His hand ran over the back of his neck. “Dunno if I’d have told you about it if you hadn’t recognized my budweiser.” His eyes met hers again, and his brows knit together. “That’s not true, though, I guess . . . I would have told
you
.”

“
Oh
,” she was kinda speechless.

His lips quirked.
“So, back to the bad-assery. What you got in mind that doesn’t involve heights, knives, or death?”

***

Devil Dogs Extreme Paintball was just off the freeway, about five miles down from the VA. As they pulled in, Matthew was practically vibrating with excitement. And that wicked gleam in his eye hadn’t diminished in the least.

“
Ummm,” she turned to him. “You’re going to be nice to me, right?”

A smirk tugged up the corner of his mouth.
“Only if you’re on my team.” He shook his head. “Damn, I haven’t done this forever.”

“You better be on my team!” she said in a totally shrill, girly way.

They walked through the front doors and checked in with the teenage goober sitting at the front desk. Allie had called on the ride over to reserve a spot. As the kid signed them in, she took a minute to check the place out. Arcade games everywhere. A shop to the side where you could buy and rent by the hour. Pictures of the different courses plastered all over the walls. Video game posters in the windows:

The paintball arena was set up like a Call of Duty nerd’s dream
come true. There was a “Bagdad” course that was supposed to be similar to the real experience of combat which Allie had gotten them into. She made sure Matthew was cool with it, that it wouldn’t be a trigger or anything.
And hadn’t that been an awkward question?
Matthew had just laughed and then called bullshit on the realism
shtick
. Couldn’t compare to the real stress of the life and death situation that was war . . . or some crap. Snobby SEAL that he was.

Allie
didn’t care.

She felt like GI Jane, all decked out in her fancy
camo jeans and the long-sleeved shirt Matthew had bought her. He’d made a pit stop at an Army Surplus store as soon as she told him what the plan was. Allie suspected he just wanted to dress her up to tease her—make her look like a poser since she’d told him she wanted to be a bad ass. But looking like a poser meant she wouldn’t be getting her own clothes dirty, so she hadn’t kicked up too much of a fuss.

Once they rented their paintball guns, had separated into two teams of six, and were waiting for the other teams in the slot ahead of them to finish up,
Matthew pulled out a jar of green, waxy goo and tried to wipe it on her face.

She jerked out of his reach.
“No way! I am
not
putting that crap on my face!” Face goo was the line in the sand.

Matthew
hunched over her, looking for an opening to dart in and goo her. “Why not?”

“No one else is wearing it. Well”—she paused as her eyes reluctantly fixed on the forty-five year-old dude who was on their team. He was the only other guy that looked as stupid as
she did. Except he had a red bandana tied around his forehead, like he was Rambo’s secret, flabby, douche-bag brother. She lowered her voice as she turned back to Matthew. “Except for that guy.” She jerked her chin in Rambo Jr.’s direction.

Matthew
snorted. “Dumb ass’ll get shot all to hell within the first five seconds with that bull’s-eye he’s got wrapped around his head.”

Matthew
’s thumb flashed out and suddenly Allie’s cheek was coated in green paint.

“Hey!” She jumped back.

He grinned again, stalking forward like a predator. Damn him; it was impossible not to return the grin.

Playful
Matthew was darn cute.

He snatched her elbow and dragged her into his chest. Pinching her chin between two green-coated fingers, he kissed her swift and sweet.
“Besides. You’re pretty much adorable right now. Like my own little Frog Hog.”

What the hell!
“I am
not
a hog!” She would have smacked him, but he ducked and somehow managed to smear more paint on the other side of her cheek.

“Not a hog, baby.” White teeth flashed.
“Frog Hog. My own little SEAL groupie.” He grabbed her again and pressed his hips into hers, letting her know he was happy. Running his lips over the side of her neck, he whispered, “
Super slutty
.”

“Ass!” she growled. “Like that makes it any better.” She was giggling up at him. This was fun.

Matthew loaded the hopper on her paintball gun with hot-pink balls and showed her how to use it. “Keep the stalk into your shoulder, nice and tight. And don’t put your finger in the trigger until you’re ready to shoot.”

“Got it.”
She nodded. Matthew standing in front of her in low-slung jeans, a plain tan sweatshirt, and at his bossy best was hot. She had the sudden urge to splatter him in the gut . . . just to try it out. Boy, the repercussions would be ugly, though.  Like he really needed a reason to shoot her? And the welts would hurt, besides.

Alpha team was made up of
Matthew, Allie, Rambo Jr., and a trio of teenagers who looked like they came here a lot. They seemed pretty pumped that Matthew—who radiated the whole win-or-die attitude—was on their team.

As the session before them cleared out to clean up,
Beta team—the enemy—shrank into the foliage to claim the best spots in the outdoor arena. They’d won the coin toss. Allie and Matthew ran in the opposite direction, Allie stumbling over her own feet as she tried to keep up. They stopped in a thicket of trees. The objectives were simple—capture the flag first and don’t get shot. Anyone hit was sent to the “dead zone” on the outskirts of the arena until the game was over. Both sides would press forward through brush and landscape to get into the main “village”. From there, they had to grab the flag and get it back to home base.