Notallthe time. I was too independent for that. But with Jack, I learned it was alright to not be the strong one all the time. That we could take turns being strong for each other.
If only I hadn’t forgotten.
That night when everything seemed so perfect—a cozy dinner and movie at my apartment, then making love until we were both exhausted—I actually thought Jack was going to ask about moving in together.
I would have said yes.
As we lay there in bed, Jack turned to me with this serious expression, banked hope in his gaze. But then whatever he was about to say was interrupted by Zane calling to report that our departure time had been moved up and we were being sent to Afghanistan first thing next morning.
Maybe I should have pressed Jack on it. But I didn’t. I thought there’d be time when we got back to talk.
I still remember that night so vividly, wrapped in Jack’s arms, feeling so secure and hopeful and utterly in love. All the things I’d dreamed of as a kid—a real home instead of just a house of people who rarely spoke to each other, a loving husband, holiday memories, pets or maybe even children—seemed so close I could reach out and touch them.
And then everything fell apart.
Ifell apart.
The tiny bubble of optimism deflates and heavy, clinging depression tries to drag me down again. Back to the hole I’d let myself languish in until Cole and Finn came to pull me out.
No.
I jump off the couch and hurry to the front door, flinging it open to let the sunlight in.
Standing in the doorway, the warm California sun kissing my skin, I concentrate on the strategies my counselor taught me.Go outside. Practice mindful breathing. Do a quick body scan. Find five things around me to focus on. Visualize my happy place.
And finally, think of the things I’m grateful for.
I’m still alive. I’m still bruised, but not irrevocably broken. I have a place to live, albeit my mother’s gloomy basement apartment. By some miracle, my teammates haven’t given up on me. And one of my best friends in the world—he’s like a brother, really—is coming to visit me.
Shutting the door behind me, I walk over to a patch of lawn and flop down on it, inhaling the scent of earth and freshly-cut grass. I lean my head back and close my eyes, letting the sun heat my skin as I try not to think about the inevitable freckles I’m earning just from sitting out here for a few minutes.
Jack always liked my freckles. He’d trace his finger between them, creating little constellations and giving them silly names likeNora’s BeltandNorandromedaandNora’s Dipper.
Tears I haven’t allowed myself to shed in months burn behind my eyes, so I try that box-breathing technique I learned about in New Mexico. And after a few minutes, it works. I’m back in control and no longer at the risk of losing it out on my mother’s front lawn.
Not that it would matter. Her neighbors probably think I’m crazy already, given the way I’ve acted in the months I’ve been here. Hiding inside for days on end, finally emerging like a person trapped in a cave for months, scrawny and pale and blinking against the light .
But—I check my watch—Cole’s due to arrive any time, and I don’t want to give him another reason to worry about me. He’s had enough of that already.
This time, when I see Cole, I want him to see the stronger Nora I’ve worked to become. Nowhere near where I used to be, but atleast I have some color and muscle tone again. I’ve been jogging every day, forcing myself to spend at least an hour outside unless it’s raining, and I’m even getting a few hours of sleep a night. Interrupted by nightmares, maybe, but at least it’s something.
Not how I used to be, though. Frowning, I remember my old self—kickass Nora who wasn’t afraid of anything, the strong Green Beret all my teammates saw as an equal, and never a liability.
Not like now.
I fight to keep myself from spiraling back into self-recrimination, repeating in my head,think of what I’m grateful for.The sun on my face. That my teammates are all still alive. That I’m not in that terrible dark place of six months ago. Cole is about to get here.
Cole. Arriving to talk about some mysterious venture he’s only hinted about so far. But whenever we’ve talked, he’s sounded the most hopeful I’ve heard in months. And when he called to say he was coming to visit after stopping in Colorado to see Zane, he said, “I don’t want to explain over the phone, but… it could help all of us, I think.”
So that’s why I’m still hanging on to that bubble of optimism. Cole wouldn’t exaggerate about something like that. If he has an idea—I know it’s something to do with leaving his police job, at least—there’s reason to think it’s good.
Almost as if I summoned him, a rental car pulls up in front of the house, and I could recognize Cole’s profile anywhere. He turns off the engine and turns to give me a quick wave before pushing open the door and getting out.
As he heads across the lawn towards me, he grins and breaks into a jog. “Nor!”
I jump to my feet and move to meet him, stopping a few feet away. My own lips tug up in response, one of the few smiles I’ve managed in ages. “You made it.”
His hand twitches towards me, like he wants to clap me on the shoulder—our standard team greeting—but he hesitates and lets it fall to his side instead.
