Page 43 of Duty Devoted
“Medical school included psychiatric rotations. Plus, I’ve treated veterans before.” I chose my words carefully. “PTSD is just another medical condition, Logan. Like diabetes or high blood pressure. It responds to treatment when you find the right approach.”
“Right approach being what?”
“Depends on the person. Sometimes medication, sometimes specific types of therapy, sometimes a combination.” I could see him listening despite his skepticism. “The point is, there are options that don’t involve sitting in a circle talking about your feelings.”
Logan was quiet, considering. “How do you know which approach works?”
“You try different things until you find what helps. Same as any other medical condition.” I kept my voice matter-of-fact. That was the only way he was going to accept any of this. “The goal isn’t to erase trauma or pretend bad things didn’t happen. It’s to give your brain better tools for managing the memories and reactions.”
“Huh.” Logan started repacking our supplies, but his movements were thoughtful rather than dismissive. “Never heard it explained that way before.”
“Most people think of PTSD as a mental health problem, which makes it seem mysterious and unfixable. But it’s really a neurological condition—your brain’s alarm system getting stuck in the ‘on’ position.”
“Like a smoke detector that goes off every time you make toast.”
“Exactly.” I was pleased by the analogy. “You don’t need to get rid of the smoke detector. You just need to recalibrate its sensitivity.”
Logan shouldered his pack and stood, extending a hand to help me up. “We should keep moving. Want to cover more ground before dark.”
And that was it—the most his brain would tolerate. There was no point pushing or trying to get more points in. He had to sift through it all in his brain and decide what to keep and what to toss.
I accepted the hand he extended to me, again noting the easy strength as he pulled me to my feet. “Logan?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks for trusting me enough to talk about this. I know it’s not easy.”
“Thanks for not making it weird.” His expression was serious but open. “And for explaining it in a way that actually makes sense.”
“Anytime.”
The afternoon brought us deeper into swamp territory. Solid ground became a memory as we picked our way between pools of murky water and mud that ranged from ankle-deep to unknowable. The air hummed with insects, and every shadow could hide a dozen different dangers.
“Watch for snakes,” Logan warned as we navigated around a particularly dark pool. “And anything that looks like a floating log might be something with teeth.”
“Caiman?” Those small alligator creatures were definitely not my favorite. They didn’t tend to be aggressive toward humans, but I’d still treated a couple of really nasty bites people had suffered from.
“Among other things.” He tested each step before committing his weight. “Follow my exact path. This mud can be deceptive.”
I tried to place my feet precisely where his had been, but the root systems under the water were like a maze. My boot caughton something hidden beneath the muck, and suddenly, I was pitching sideways toward the questionable ground?—
Logan’s arm wrapped around my waist, yanking me back against his chest before I could fall. For a moment, he held me suspended, my feet barely touching the ground, his arm like an iron band around my middle.
“Got you,” he said, and I could feel his breath warm against my ear.
Then he lifted me—actually lifted me completely off the ground—and carried me three steps to more solid footing, setting me down gently.
The moment my feet touched down, I jerked away, my face burning with embarrassment. His expression shifted, closing off like a door slamming shut. He took a step back, creating distance between us.
God, he must have felt how heavy I was, how solid.You’re like trying to lift a pile of rocks, babe. Good thing I work out.
I tried to push the voice out of my head, but it was never easy.
“Thanks,” I managed, not meeting Logan’s eyes. I forced a laugh that came out strained. “Good thing you’ve got quick reflexes. Though, your back might not thank you later. Let’s go.”
“Right. Let’s keep moving.”
The easy camaraderie from earlier evaporated. I could feel him withdrawing—not physically, we still had to stay close for safety, but there was a new stiffness to his movements, a careful politeness that hadn’t been there before.
