Forget Me Not (Love in the Fleet) (17 page)

“Trust me. Mikey would know if there was something wrong with me and I’d know the same about him. Maybe Jack’s symptoms only affected him when he was home with you, because he felt safe. You know, he could let down his guard. Come here.”

Her tears started and Sky wrapped
his arms around her and stroked her back soothingly. This is what Daisy Schneider had needed for the past two years. Someone to hold her. And listen to her. And let her share things she’d never given voice to. Someone to literally let her cry on their shoulder. And stroke her back. And tell her everything was okay.

And that Jack’s death was not her fault.

Sky kissed the top of her head and rocked her. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that, sweetheart.”

He held her like that, letting her cry, until Belle dropped the ball at their feet and barked. Daisy pulled away and wiped her eyes. “Thank you.”

Sky threw the ball, then turned to her. “For what?”

“For everything you just said and did. Thank you.”

Sky shrugged. “Tell me something, Daze. Did you ever go talk to anyone? Like see a counselor. I mean, that sounds like some pretty heavy stuff for you to handle all by your lonesome.”

“No, I figured what was done was done. I’d just concentrate on moving on. But when you called me uptight and—what was it,
joyless
?—it made me realize a lot of things.”

Sky winced. “I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m glad you did. It woke me up to the fact that I
have
been behaving like an ice queen. I
have
been joyless. And I apologize for last night. For lying there with you holding me so sweetly and me talking about how wonderful my life had been with Jack. That was unfair to you. But again. I appreciate your letting me talk about him. Because I did love him.”

Sky took her hand and turned toward home. “It’s okay. I’m glad it helped.”

“Anyway, I hope you can better understand my hesitation to date
you. First of all you’re a
helo
pilot. And when you told me you’d been involved in the
Blanchard
attack, it freaked me out. Not only that you felt obligated to your friend’s fiancée, but also that you’d been in combat. ‘Killing terrorists who needed to be killed,’ I believe is how you put it.”

She stopped walking, searched Sky’s face. “Does it bother you?”

“Taking out the tangos? No. It was kill or be killed. Period. End of story. Doing what I had to do to defend the ship and the lives on board does not bother me in the least.”

“That’s good. Because I might be able to get past the fact that you’re a helo pilot, but I could never deal with someone with PTSD again.”

Sky swallowed. Cleared his throat. “Daisy, I’d never dream of hurting you.”

“There was a time when Jack never would have dreamed of it either, but things changed. The alcohol wasn’t the only clue something was wrong. There was also Jack’s dreams. How could I forget about his nightmares?”

Holy shit.

Ho-ly shit.

Sky focused on looking Daisy in the eye, but his brain was busier than a three-legged cat trying to cover up its crap on a hot steel flight deck during flight ops. He couldn’t decide which issue to tackle first:

Mr. Perfect wasn’t so perfect?

Talk of divorce?

They’d stopped having sex?

But the vote was unanimous. Jack’s nightmares won First Place, hands down.

I could never deal with someone with PTSD again.
That’s what she’d said. Ho-ly shit.

“He started having bad dreams right after he returned,” Daisy said, taking Sky’s hand and walking again. “I figured that was pretty standard stuff considering what he’d seen in Iraq. Some of his missions involved civilians. It was apparently a little hard to spare them when the Iraqis used them as human shields. He’d wake up crying. I’d hold him and calm him down and he’d fall back asleep. He didn’t even remember them in the morning.”

Sky’s pulse raced and cold fingers of dread climbed up his spine. He focused on keeping his face immobile.

“I should have wised up right then and there. I mean, Family Services told us that could happen. You know, those groups that lecture everyone after a deployment about how the transition back home can be difficult. Your spouse may be changed, household dynamics may be different, blah, blah, blah. You know.”

“Yeah, we get that every time we return from a cruise. Not that I have a family waiting for me to have
dynamics
with, but I know what you mean.”

“I should have talked to somebody. But I felt I’d be letting him down if I went behind his back and shared these intimate details about him. Like I was betraying him. Again talking to you now, everything looks crystal clear about what I should have done, but it was pretty murky when we were going through it.” She turned to the dogs that had caught up with them. “Hush, Belle.”

Sky picked up the ball and threw it out to sea, sending both dogs on a mission for the next few minutes. “So you’ve been carrying this around with you for what? Two, three years?”

“Yes.” She stopped and looked at him. “Can you imagine him giving up sex?”

“With you? No.” Sky had been unable to react when she’d initially told him because he was pretty sure he’d swallowed his tongue.

She gave a little half laugh.
“I haven’t had sex in close to three years.”

Sky didn’t dare open his mouth to speak. Nothing good could come from it. Because that was pretty much how he felt at the moment, even though it had only been eighteen days. Plus nine hours. And those pesky thirty-four minutes. But who was counting?

But three years?

She slid her arms around his neck and snuggled against him, which just about brought him to his knees. Desire punched him in the gut when he was supposed to be nurturing or something.

“So my offer still stands. I’m ready when you are.” And then pulling back from him she said, “But Sky, I admire what you’re doing. I really do. It means a lot to me that you care enough about Jack’s memory to honor it. Thank you.” She kissed him on the cheek.

Sky was speechless.
Honor?

Jack had lost the honor of being The Man, The Proud, The Marine, and had regained his status as a jarhead-grunt-asshole-son-of-a-bitch as far as Sky was concerned.
To make Daisy suffer like that. What was with the guy that he wouldn’t get help for his obvious PTSD? Jack’s symptoms were as plain as the nose on his face: heavy drinking, fighting with—but not having sex with—his awesome wife, nightmares…

Suddenly Sky felt a tad more compassion for the jarhead-grunt-asshole-son-of-a-bitch. Godiva dropped the tennis ball at his feet. He pulled out of Daisy’s arms, picked up the ball, and threw it as hard as he could toward home. Then he took Daisy’s hand and followed.

Examining himself in the mirror as he brushed his teeth, Sky convinced himself he hadn’t lied to her. She’d asked him, “Does it ever bother you? Killing terrorists who needed to be killed?” No, it did not bother him.
Firing Hellfire missiles on a suicide fishing boat and killing the al-Qaeda bombers on board had not caused him to lose a minute of sleep.

Losing a tail rotor, crashing into the ocean, and not being able to save Daniel?
That
was what inhabited the frightening world between him and peaceful slumber.

Sky rinsed, spit, and went to find his cat to give her a pill before bed.

Daisy stood at the patio door, letting the dogs in for the night. Sky wrapped himself around her back and kissed the top of her head, then buried his nose in her silken hair. God, he liked everything about this woman. And as George had said, she smelled damn good too. “Everything secured for the night?”

“Mmmmm,” Daisy murmured. “Let me go wash up. Thanks for staying again.”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world. You can plan on me staying and holding you every night until you throw me out.”

They cuddled in the guest room bed. Like the night before Sky was fully dressed and lay on the comforter. Well, he’d relaxed a little. He’d taken his shoes off tonight. He felt a little safer tonight knowing Daisy Mae was in the house. Surely she’d come snuggle with him after the lights were out—and the evil doctor had fallen asleep. That cat was so funny about Dr. Daisy.

“Thanks again for today, Sky.” Daisy lay on her side, her head on his chest. His arm wrapped around her, his fingers playing in her hair.

He kissed her temple and something came loose in his heart. Her blond hair spilled across the pillow and over her shoulders. But he wasn’t getting the sexual rush he usually did. Something was different.

Holy shit.
He got it. This wasn’t about sex anymore. It wasn’t about the conquest or the rush. He
cared
for her. Deep down in his bones. But did he really want
to get that involved? Part of him wanted to wrap her up and marry her tomorrow. And another part wanted to run away as fast as his legs could carry him.

He stroked her hair. “I have a better picture now of how you saw me when I stumbled into your clinic spouting off like an idiot. I mean the military thing, not the idiot thing. I can see why you wouldn’t want to get involved with me.”

She lifted her head so she could meet his eyes. “I’m sorry, Sky, but I’m still not sure I want to get involved
.
Can’t we keep this simple? You said you’re not looking for anything serious and I’m certainly not ever going there again.”

“Maybe you’d better define ‘getting involved,’ because in my book, you lying here in my arms in a bed in your house, well, I consider this ‘getting involved.’”

“Well, I’m all for this, for, okay, sex. And I thank you for holding me and listening. But I’m not looking for a relationship.”

“Daze—”

“Wait. Hear me out. I’m never going to give my heart away again. Just so you know. The way I loved Jack when we married? Well, I think a love like that only comes once in a lifetime.”

“Oh, so that’s it. The love of your life dies, so your life is over. You’re what thirty?”

“Thirty-three.”

“Kind of young to have your life over, while you’re still alive. Daisy, you make it sound like you died that day too. It’s supposed to be until death do you part. Not until
you
die as well.”

“Sorry, I don’t want to be accused of leading you on.”

“So we’re just going to what? Have a fling? Be friends with benefits?”

She sat up. “Don’t tell me this isn’t the first time you’ve had a fling
.
”

“No, but I bet it’s the first time you have.”

She looked down, embarrassed. “Well, yes.”

Daisy Mae jumped on the bed and curled into Sky’s side. He scratched the cat between her ears, then turned his attention back to Daisy. “Why won’t you let me get close to you, Daisy?” 

“It’s not you. I don’t think it’s possible to find true love twice in my life. And if that’s what you’re looking for, I wanted you to know that. Anyway, you said you didn’t think you’d ever marry, so there you have it. Can’t we keep this simple? Maybe a
long-term
fling? Look, I like you a lot, Sky. You’re a good man. You make me laugh. You’re funny and you make the world a happier place.”

“You think I’m funny? Took you long enough to react to my humor.”

“I was afraid to encourage you. But I thought you were funny the first time we met.”

He sat up. “You did? Are you kidding?”

“The first thing you said to me was ‘nice rack!’ and what I loved was you had no clue you were looking at my chest when you said it.”

“I was?”

“You should have seen your face when you figured it out. Only you could be looking at my breasts and be talking about my car. You have a good heart. I mean, sometimes what you say doesn’t come out right, but your intentions are good. I started falling for you that very first day.”

Sky’s heart skipped a beat. She wanted to keep things simple, but she was
falling for him?
Who said he didn’t understand girl-speak?
“You did?”

“Yes. When you cuddled Daisy Mae to your chest and said ‘You mean, kill the babies?’ You looked like a ten-year-old boy, afraid for your pet puppy. I knew right then and there I needed to stay far away from you or I was going to lose my heart again.”

“And what would be so wrong with that, Daze? You know what I think? Maybe you’re afraid if you fall in love with someone else and move on with your life, you’d be forgetting Jack, like he didn’t matter anymore. And that makes you feel guilty.”

Daisy’s brow furrowed in confusion.

“Let me share something I heard recently. My buddy, Philip, and I were talking about how he’s been doing since the attack on the
Blanchard
. He told me Hallie taught him something valuable about survivor guilt. He struggled a little because a couple of guys in his division died in the attack. He was knocked unconscious, but he still felt responsible for his guys. Anyway, he learned that instead of feeling guilty for surviving, he’d been left behind because he still has a mission to accomplish. A contribution he still needs to make to the world.”

“I believe I do that in my practice. I hope I make the lives of animals and my clients easier, more productive, healthier. You know.”

“Well, maybe there’s more to it than that. Maybe you’re supposed to marry again and have a family or something. Raise a slew of responsible citizens who make an impact on the world. Maybe you’re meant to discover the cure for doggie cancer? Maybe I don’t know what I’m talking about. But I do know that instead of wallowing in the sadness of being left behind, you should figure out why you’re still here and what it is you’re meant to accomplish.”

“Oh, my. That was quite an eloquent speech, Sky. I didn’t know you could wax and wane quite like that.”

“Neither did I.”

She leaned up and kissed him. A kiss that went a little longer and a little deeper than he had expected or was capable of handling. Although his mind was clear about a sexual stand-down for a week or so, his body hadn’t gotten the memo, and remained at the ready every second he spent near her. Locked and loaded, and ready for action.

He pulled away. “Sorry, sunshine, but there’s a moratorium on kissing in bed until I’m
ready. Let’s go. Lights out.”

“Good night, Sky.” Daisy snuggled into the curve of his shoulder.

“Good night, sweetheart.” He lay there stroking her hair. Daisy Mae curled up in his other armpit and he knew it might be safe to doze off, as long as his alarm cat was present.

But like the night before, there was a lot to think about. Jack suffered from PTSD so bad that Daisy almost left him. It had gotten so they’d stopped having sex because he couldn’t perform. Whoa. Big whoa.

Daisy had some huge guilt issues to deal with. She needed to talk with someone besides him. She needed a professional. And she didn’t believe she could love twice in one lifetime. And what about him? Did he need professional help for his dreams? As to a long-term fling?
Fling
by its very definition meant just that, a fling. Nothing long-term about it.

But what if they both actually fixed
the problems they had with PTSD?—not that he couldn’t handle a few bad dreams. What about the other issue that had kept him from ever committing to a woman? Experience had taught him the one-woman thing was for the birds. But, he was pretty sure Daisy was The One
,
if there was ever going to be
a
One. What had Philip said? “If it’s the right One, then the magic doesn’t wear off.”

Still, Sky found that a little hard to believe because it had always worn off before.

Chapter 17

It was a textbook landing and yet George instinctively knew something was wrong. Everything seemed fine until the wheels touched down and then the helo imploded. Flames shot into the air. The heat flashed through his flight suit, searing his skin. Of course the fact that he could feel anything at all was a good thing. Because in that split second since they’d touched down on the flight deck of the USS
Kitty Hawk,
George already knew Joe couldn’t feel a thing.

And never would again.

He knew what would come next. It always happened the same way. The flight deck crew would rip open the door and attempt to extricate him. But he would fight them. George had to get Joe out first. If he didn’t, Joe’s wife would be pounding on the window before long.

And there she was. Screaming at him, begging him to pull Joe out alive. How many times had he tried to convince her he was doing his best? So here he was, fighting off the crew whose hands snaked out from everywhere to pull him to safety. But they didn’t understand. He’d rather die than leave Joe to suffer. And then the hands really were snakes. What the hell was up with that? They fell to the deck of the cockpit and writhed in the flames.

Now Sarah’s hands were all over him. “Leave me alone, Sarah! I can save him!”

“No! He’s gone! You have to come with me!” She handed Joe’s baby to one of the crew and pulled him from the cockpit and into her embrace.

It felt so good. He wanted to hug her back but it was wrong. Her husband had just died in the cockpit. He shouldn’t be holding Joe’s wife. Why would she do this? She kissed him passionately and he knew he had to pull away and go back into the inferno, but it felt too good. He didn’t deserve to be kissed. Hell, he deserved to die for what he’d done. He was the senior pilot, which made him responsible for Joe’s death. And yet Joe’s wife held on to him for dear life. Why would she do that?

George pushed Sarah away to safety and turned to climb back into the fiery cockpit but it was gone. Only ashes remained on the flightdeck. A gust of wind blew the black ashes away. Nothing remained. No helicopter, no rubble, no Joe. Sarah pushed the baby into his arms and cried, “Take care of him! You have to take care of him! His father is dead! Help us!”

He tried to tear himself away from her, but she wrapped herself around his legs. When he looked down he noticed it was the snakes that had entangled themselves around his feet. He screamed, but he couldn’t get away. One slithered up the leg of his flight suit. He stomped his feet and kicked out again and again, but he was entangled in something. Pinned to the flight deck. “Help me! Please help me! I have to find Joe! Please let me go!”

Sarah’s hands comforted him. She rubbed his shoulder and crooned to him, “Captain Duncan. Wake up, sir. Everything is going to be all right.”

“No, it’s not! You don’t understand! I have to find Joe! Set me free so I can find him!”

“You’re having another nightmare, sir. Wake up. Everything will be fine, Captain Duncan.”

Captain
Duncan? He was a lieutenant. How could he be a captain? He was only twenty-eight years old. He wasn’t old enough to be a captain. Why would the crew call him Captain?

“Shhhh, sir. It’s okay. Wake up.” George realized the hands that stroked him were a woman’s, but they weren’t Sarah’s. He wasn’t on the
Kitty Hawk.
Snakes were not twisting around his legs. Sheets were. Again. He’d been dreaming. Again. Another nightmare.

Jesus Christ,
would Joe ever leave him alone? Would
Sarah
?

George pushed the hands away roughly. “Leave me alone!”

Although he couldn’t see who it was, he recognized the voice. It was the nice CNA Lola or something. He was at Portside Manor. He was old. He was blind. And he was covered with sweat. And fear.

The kind woman’s voice soothed him as she straightened out the sheets and asked him if he wanted to change into clean pajamas. “Captain Duncan, are you awake now, sir? It’s okay. It was just a bad dream. Let me find you some clean clothes. Would you like me to change the bed? How about a glass of water?”

“How did you know to come in here?”

“Your neighbor called me, sir. He could hear you…uh…calling out. Wondered if maybe you needed some help.”

“I’m okay now. Lola, is it?”

“Yes, sir. I’ll be down at the desk if you need anything. Just pull your cord. Okay?”

“Thank you, Lola.” He heard her bustle out, but did not hear the door close. She had probably left it ajar in case he “called out” again.

Goddammit. It had been so real. In brilliant color. The fire. The flames. Sarah. And now he was left in this ever-present darkness. For the rest of his life.

Somehow it didn’t seem fair. Although he couldn’t see a single thing out there in the world, Joe remained. Would George ever be able to rest in peace? That was all he could think about as he groped his way into the bathroom to try to wash away the stink of the sweat—and the dream.