Everything I've Never Had (45 page)

“We need you. We always need you. You make us whole. Do you understand me? Whatever you’re feeling or going through we can figure out together, not apart!”

He stands up abruptly causing my hands to fall to my sides. Pacing back and forth, he says, “I don’t understand why the fuck you can’t go and leave me to myself. I’ve been very patient. But I’m about to lose it, Celeste. I need you to go.”

“No, you need me to stay and help you figure this out, Adrian.” He’s on me in a second, bracing both his arms on the bar behind me and pinning me in.

“I’m fucking broken,” he punches out. “Do you have any idea what that means?” I shake my head because I don’t. I don’t understand. “It means that when I look at you, I see blood and carnage and blank stares of women who’ve been raped and mutilated and killed.” I whimper. “Yeah, Celeste, pretty sick, huh? This is why I asked you to leave. But you want to talk, you want to listen, right? So listen to this. When I look at your boys, I see empty pits of despair and destruction. Do you understand now?” He’s barely an inch from my face, his face is crumpled like he’s in pain. Snatching my hand up, he taps the side of his head with it and tells me, “I’m not the same, but I don’t know what to do to fix it. The only thing I know to do is stay away from you and your children.”

“Adrian—”

“Leave, Celeste,” he roars at me. I duck from under his arm and grab my purse and shoes. My sobbing and his heavy breathing are the only sounds I hear. All I can think is that I’m making this worse.

Heading for the door, I open my mouth to tell him I love him and I’ll see him soon. I’m not going away for long, but I’m afraid of what he’ll tell me in response. Pinching my lips together, I fight that instinct and close the door behind me.

“AND HE SAID that he has uncontrollable thoughts and he’s been having flashbacks of the things he saw over there?”

I adjust the phone on my shoulder and click around some more on my laptop. “Yes, I came home and looked it up on the Department of Veteran Affairs website. He has Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Louis. I just know it.”

“Doesn’t that usually develop over time, though? Like months or years later?”

“No, it says here that every case is different. He’s displaying most of the symptoms. I didn’t realize that this week, but looking back, I definitely see them. He wasn’t sleeping right, he was quick-tempered, withdrawn, quiet, not eating right, the drinking. Add to that last night’s episode. I mean, what other proof do we need?”

“Well, what did it say to do about it?”

“He needs therapy and probably some kind of anti-psychotic or anti-depressant. But, I know Adrian; he’s not going to take any medicine. It’s a stretch to think he’ll talk to someone. He’s proud and stubborn and…” I break off in a sob.

“Shh, Celeste. We’re gonna get him some help, OK?”

“OK. I think I’m going to let him rest tonight and go see him first thing in the morning. He hasn’t slept, and I know that’s not helping matters. Lack of sleep doesn’t help with clear thinking. He’s been texting me back since I left, so he’s safe for now.”

“Do you want me to go over there when I leave work?”

“Would you, please?”

“Of course, I’ll call you and let you know how he is.”

“Thank you, Louis.”

LAST NIGHT WAS the longest night of my life. All those nights of staying up and watching Tripp slowly slip from this world had been the worst experience of my life. Not anymore. Not knowing whether or not Adrian would harm himself—definitely the worst feeling ever. I don’t think for a second he’d harm himself intentionally. That’s not it. I’d worried that he would go out, trouble would ensue, and then a hundred different scenarios play out from there. Louis had gone over with dinner and hung out with him, so I know he was safe for a good part of the evening. Louis said he’d acted like nothing out of the ordinary was going on. That he’d just been quiet, not apologetic or ashamed. Just quiet.

After dropping the boys off at school, I head over to Adrian’s with some breakfast and coffee. I’m terrified of what I’m going to find. I know Adrian would never hurt me. I know he would never hurt himself. I’m more afraid of not being able to help him and of him running me off again. I’d been texting him off and on, and he’d been polite enough. Polite. My passionate man was being polite.

I’d always known loving him was never going to be easy, and with my eyes wide open, I’d been prepared to face many battles to keep him for my own. But I never thought I’d have to fight my husband for his love. A crippling pain fills my soul as that realization sinks in. As if he can’t stand to be loved back by me, he has taken his love from me and is pushing me away. He’s punishing himself. And I know that’s what has brought this on—guilt and penance. Taking a deep breath in and releasing it, I steel myself to fight for my man. When I knock on his door, my heart is in my throat.

As he opens the door, my breath leaves me in a swoosh because he just looks beautiful. I feel like we’ve been apart forever, not just one night, and he looks so good to me. “Hey, babe.”

“Hi.” He opens the door and steps back to let me in. I want to hug him and kiss him, but I’m afraid of pushing. I pushed yesterday and that was no good. I walk past him and state the obvious, “I got coffee and bagels.”

“Thank you. That sounds good.”

“May I have a kiss?” I ask when he turns back to me.

He gives me that half-smile. The one that doesn’t make the skin around his eyes crinkle. I despise that smile. I miss my smile. Walking over to me, he places the coffees and bagels on the counter, turns around, and takes me in his arms. “I’m sorry about yesterday, Celeste. Sorrier than you’ll ever know. I don’t know what came over me, which is the problem—I can’t seem to get a grip.”

I smooth his t-shirt down over his shoulders. “I forgive you, Adrian. I only want to help you. And you know that. I’ll do whatever I can to help you, baby.”

“I know that. Thank you,” he says again before kissing me lightly. “I missed you.”

“Oh…I missed you so much,” I mutter against his lips before deepening the kiss. He moans against my mouth, and I know that we need to stop and handle this issue, but I want him. I can’t help but want him. Finally, I have the strength to pull back.

“Let’s eat a little.”

He just nods. Taking him by the hand, I lead him over to the couch and tell him to wait there while I get his breakfast.

While I get everything ready I watch him as he stares off into space. He doesn’t attempt to make conversation or turn on the TV or anything. He just sits—still and blank.

We eat breakfast and I talk of light-hearted matters. He laughs in the right places, smiles when he should, and comments when necessary. All of it without one shred of real interest. We’ve slowly gravitated toward each other, and he lets me hold him.

A couple of hours pass this way, talking and sharing, until he finally dozes off in my arms. I look down at his long eyelashes resting on his cheekbones and those full lips. He looks so stunning lying here. Just like the man I sent to war, but I know that he’s not that man anymore. Something fundamental about him has changed. It scares me so badly. After a while, I relax and doze off with him.

I can feel him staring at me, so I force my tired lids open. “Hey,” I whisper. “Did you get some sleep?”

“Yeah, I did actually. Thank you for staying with me.”

Oh great. We’re back to polite Adrian. “Adrian, stop thanking me for everything. You’re my husband. That’s not going to change.”

“I don’t know, Celeste, I—”

I sit up quickly, swinging my legs around in front of me. “What do you mean you don’t know? We’re husband and wife. That’s not changing.” He shakes his head at me. “That’s not changing,” I repeat. “I’ve done some research, Adrian.”

“Don’t give me that PTSD crap, Cel.”

“That’s what’s going on, baby. You’ve shown most of the signs.” I list them for him. “All you need is to talk to someone about what happened over there, what has you so…overwhelmed. The doctors can help too with a little bit of medication.”

He flies up from the couch and goes into the kitchen to grab a bottle of water and drains it before settling against the counter. “I’m not going to see any doctors and I’m not going to talk to anyone. I just need a little time and space. Two things you’re not prepared to give me apparently,” he says coldly. So cold.

“I would give you those things if I thought that would work, Adrian. I’ve read—”

“You’ve read,” he sneers at me. He takes a deep breath. “You have no idea what you’re talking about. I’d really like you to leave now,” he says with no feeling.

“You’d really like me to leave now,” I repeat flatly. Getting up, I move into the kitchen with him and wrap my arms around him. “I’m not leaving. You ran me off yesterday. I allowed that. I gave you some space. I’m not leaving today. I can help you get help.”

“I just…I don’t know what you want from me. There’s nothing wrong that a little time and space won’t help, and I’m pretty sure I’ve asked you for that.”

“I’m pretty sure that I want my husband back. Not this machine,” I say as I point at his chest, “or that ticking time bomb from yesterday. I want the man who grabs me and kisses the life out of me and then kisses it right back into me. I want the man who tells me what he is thinking, what he is feeling no matter the consequences. I want the man who loves me, who is willing to fight for me no matter what.”

Grabbing my hair, he fists it in one hand and pulls my head back before he slams his mouth down on mine. I cry out but hang on. I’ve gotten a reaction, and it’s not an entirely unpleasant one. He backs me into the wall and ravages me. “Is this what you want, Celeste?” he grinds out against my mouth. I can only groan my agreement as I reach up and force his mouth back to mine.

He pushes my skirt up with one hand and grabs at my underwear with the other. I hear ripping and can’t help but be turned on by his enthusiasm. I hear his zipper and then he’s inside me, grinding and pumping. “Put your legs around me,” he demands. I comply.

Pulling my head back, I open my eyes to meet his but they’re closed. “Give me my blues, Adrian,” I whisper.

Instead he buries his head in the crook of my neck and drives into me even harder. I gasp at the pleasurably painful assault on my body. He shifts and buries himself in me so deeply that I cry out. Finally, his movements still but he is trembling.

He slips out of me and those blues finally meet mine. Steely. His eyes don’t leave mine as he rights my clothes. “You got what you came for, Celeste? That’s what you wanted. A piece of me, right? Everyone wants a piece of me. I hope you enjoyed it. And I hope it was enough to last you a lifetime.”
What?
Tossing my underwear in the trashcan on his way out of the room, he barks, “Now, get out.”

WALKING OUT HIS apartment is probably the hardest thing I’ve ever done . I stumble down to my car and know that there’s no way I can drive. I pop open my hatchback and trade my shoes for my runners. Then I start the short walk to my house. When I get home, my breathing has returned to normal and some thoughts start registering. But before I can allow that, I need to get the boys squared away.