Though we’re seconds from rolling out, I can’t resist giving her a quick kiss. “I’ll do anything for you,” I murmur, meaning it with all my heart. “Anything.”
Those three words fill my mouth, so big it’s almost impossible not to say them. But I can’t. Not now. I can’t risk the distraction. But later…
Once we get out of this, I have to tell her.
“Okay, so now are we ready to go?” Rafe asks with a hint of amusement. He reaches back to pat Yara’s shoulder. “I don’t know about you, but I’m ready to get on with this.”
Yara forces a tiny smile. “Let’s do it.”
Rafe casts a quick look around the interior of the van. “Weapons ready?”
“Affirmative,” we all reply.
“Comms working?”
Everyone taps their earpieces to turn them on. When Rafe asks if we can hear him, our responses sound in our ears, just as they should.
“Okay,” Rafe says. He pulls his night vision goggles over his eyes. “On my signal.”
His hand comes up.
I put my hand on the door handle, ready to open it.
A second later, Rafe’s hand comes down.
Like silent shadows, we slip from the van and into the trees, where we gather into a huddle again.
In the direction of the building where Malik is supposed to be, a flickering light glows.
Tyler pulls out a thermal camera and scans our surroundings, his action bringing back memories of the day Garrett died. The pain of it comes so swiftly, so intensely, I can’t completely cover my sharp intake of breath.
Yara glances at me, her gaze disguised by her goggles. But if I could see behind them, I know I’d see worry in her eyes. Because she knows about that day. Not just the basics I revealed after my nightmare, but the details of it that I told her later. So she knows about Alec and his thermal camera. And she probably knows I’m having a flashback to it now.
Reaching for her hand, I lace my fingers between hers.
Is it the right time to be holding my girlfriend’s hand? No.
Do I care? Not really. Not when her touch is the only thing that eases my anxiety.
The old Ace wouldn’t have wanted to admit such a weakness. Except, is it a weakness, really? I used to think so. But now? I’m not so sure.
Something Yara told me a few days ago comes back to me. She busted me checking the locks for the fourth time—and yes, I know it’s ridiculous considering how much security we have at the B and A headquarters, but I couldn’t help myself—and gently veered me over to the couch. “Maybe you should talk to someone about it,” she suggested. “I did. And it helped. It didn’t make everything better, but it helped.”
“Maybe,” I told her vaguely, inwardly cringing at the thought of revealing my inner thoughts and fears to a complete stranger. “I’ll think about it.”
“Or you could tell your teammates,” she added. “They’d understand. I know they would.”
She was right—again. I know they would. Shit, they’ve all had their own struggles with PTSD, whether it’s themselves, orthe person they love. Eden struggled with flashbacks for months after her attacker was caught. Noelle went to counseling after she was kidnapped by that sick fuck. And Indy and Tyler… of course they’d get it.
It’s never been because I didn’t think my friends would understand. I kept my shit a secret because I was ashamed. Because, in my screwed up head, I thought I was a failure.
But how can I tell Yara she’s not a failure for leaving the Army when I don’t give myself the same grace?
Maybe I’ll tell my team about it when we get back. Ask for advice. Let them know that sometimes I struggle with anxiety, but it doesn’t mean I still can’t do my job.
I can already imagine the reactions I’d get. Indy would punch me with his prosthetic and tell me I’m being ridiculous, that ofcourseI can do my job. Tyler would suggest alternative treatments like yoga and meditation. Rafe would get all intense and tell me he has my six, anytime I need. And Webb would ask if I want to playWorld of Warcraftwith him, since it helped him when he was dealing with his own shit.
Yes,I decide. I should tell them. It’s been long enough.