Wrapping my arms fully around her, I begin to return the pleasure she is giving me. All is fair in love… Reaching my hand below the covers to explore and tease her body. Cassie's soft moans encourage me to deepen my exploration and to focus in on all the places I am learning she likes me to caress and worship.
This is what Sunday mornings should be about, Cassie and me in bed, waking up in each other’s arms before sharing and loving each other’s bodies.
A little later we lie exhausted in bed after some more spectacular loving. I’m lying collapsed on my front, my scarred back visible to Cassie. She trails a hand down over the roughened skin, questions in her eyes. “Will you tell me what happened?” she asks softly.
In the past, when I’ve been asked about the scars marking my body, I’ve brushed the questions off and got the hell out of there with some lame excuse. It’s normally a total mood killer, but Cassie asking is completely different. This is something I want to share with her.
Rolling onto my side facing her, I start to tell her about that night in Afghanistan or what I remember of the night. The jump from the Chinook. The trek through the canyon, my team beside me. The explosion and the heat. The sound of gunfire echoing against the canyon walls. The smell of burning flesh and the slow, painful realization that it was mine.
I then tell her the part Blake, Parker, and Will have filled in for me over the years. The part of the night I lost, and I guess thankfully only remember bits of in my nightmares. Luckily, these days that's not so often.
“Ben and I were both unconscious. Blake ran back for me. Parker for Ben. Will provided cover. Tim had been shot in the shoulder but was still able to get himself up and out of immediate danger. There was nothing they could do for our other two teammates, who had been killed instantly by the rocket. A rescue team retrieved their bodies later so they could be returned home to their families.”
I swallow past the lump in my throat. Remembering the photo Frank carried of his wife and young son still chokes me up when I think of their loss.
Taking a deep breath, I continue, “They called in a medivac to evacuate Tim, Ben, and me. But it turned out they couldn’t land as the area had become hot really quick. Parker was the team medic for the mission, and he did what he could for Ben and me, but he was limited, and we were under heavy fire. Basically, we needed to get out of there. All of us."
I trail my fingers along Cassie's arm as I tell her my story. The simple physical touch calming me and making the telling easier.
"Our friend Scotty was the pilot of the Chinook which dropped us that night and Johno, his co-pilot, also a good friend. It was Johno who heard our emergency call over the radio, saying we'd been ambushed. They were still close to the area, and although they were told to return to base, they came back for us. Scotty and Johno are two amazing pilots in the Australian Airforce, and lucky for us, they didn’t always like to follow orders. We were outnumbered and with three of us injured, we were sitting targets. Those crazy guys got the Chinook down under heavy fire for those few vital minutes for us to board and saved our whole team, not only Ben, Tim and me who were needing a medivac.”
Cassie’s eyes shimmer with unshed tears. “I love Scotty and Johno already,” she says quietly.
Smiling, I agree, “I love Scotty and Johno too. Especially today as they gave me the chance to be here this morning in bed with you.”
Slapping my arm, she laughs. “You, fool boy,” then becoming serious again, “I can’t believe I nearly lost you forever and I didn’t even know. I wish I had known so I could have gone to be with you at the hospital. Did you get sent straight back to the States?”
“I was in a coma for a few days at the military hospital in Kabul. Then when I stabilized, I was moved to the US military hospital in Germany. I don’t remember much about my recovery. I only remember… sorry this is hard. It’s not something I talk about to anyone.”
I stammer to a halt. The words sticking like dust in my throat.
Cassie lays her hand against my cheek, and it gives me the strength to continue, “I remember… when Blake and Parker came to tell me about our teammates… how Frank and Jack had died. The worst part was I missed their funerals. Lying in a hospital bed, barely able to move, I had a lot of time inside my head. Asking myself, why did I survive? Why not me? Frank had a wife and kid. Jack had a long-term girlfriend, his childhood sweetheart. It was tough."
Saying this out loud to Cassie is a huge step forward for me. There is more to tell her, but it will have to do for now as I don’t want to end up sobbing like a baby. Mostly I’m okay these days, but it’s still hard to talk about the good friends I lost.
I clear the lump from my throat. “Other than that, I don’t remember much. I was out of it on painkillers most of the time. The pain from the burns was twenty-four seven, so I couldn’t sleep unless they knocked me out with drugs. Around six weeks later I was flown back stateside where I went into a rehab center. I needed daily physio to heal my body and…” I stop mid-sentence as I’m not sure how to put into words my PTSD and the deep depression which engulfed me all through my rehab and beyond.
“And? Is there more?” she encourages though I know she would understand if I stopped now.
Reluctantly I confess, “Yes. I was suffering from post-traumatic stress, and I needed to work through a lot of stuff with a therapist. It took a while.” Cassie nods in acknowledgment then draws me closer to her. Wrapping her arms tightly around me.
Cassie is now one of only a few people I've told this to. Blake and the guys knew the treatment I was having as they all had their own similar shit to deal with. I haven’t even spoken to my mom about it, although I’m fairly sure she suspects something wasn’t right at the time. While my body healed and I got my physical strength back, my mind took a lot longer to heal.
Panic attacks could overwhelm me anytime and be triggered by the slightest incident. I stopped the regular therapy sessions a couple of years ago now. I haven’t had a panic attack for about three years, even though I still get the nightmares when I get a bit stressed. But even the nightmares are much less dramatic. I seem to be able to manage it all better these days by reducing my stress levels through gym workouts and meditation.
Having unloaded my story, it’s time to change the subject, so I ask, “Do you want something to eat? I can make us some pancakes if you’re hungry.”
Even with the quick change in topic, Cassie seems willing to follow my lead. “Yes, please,” she answers eagerly. “Let’s make pancakes. I love pancakes.”
I remember how much Cassie used to love pancakes, so I knew this would work. Pancakes are making her smile again, and I like making Cassie smile.
Making pancakes soon has both of us smiling. It's fun working together at my kitchen bench. I’m not big on cooking, but you wouldn’t guess it based on my kitchen setup. It’s what they call an entertainer’s kitchen in the glossy real estate brochures. Not even sure what that means other than the kitchen has a large granite island bench and lots of fancy built-in appliances. Half of which I don’t know how to use.
Maybe now Cassie is here in the kitchen beside me, I can think of ways to entertain in my own unique way, right there on the island bench. I need to stop thinking sex around this woman, but it’s difficult when I know how good the sex is with her.
Dragging my thoughts away from sex, I put on a fresh pot of filtered coffee while Cassie piles the hot pancakes onto two plates.
“Let’s sit in the living room,” I suggest as I carry the tray of food and coffee over to the coffee table.
