And what might happen when that tenuous connection broke.
Even as doubts raced through her mind, pain squeezed her heart. He’d been through so much, witnessed so much grief…and faced it all alone. It was a miracle he had made it this far.
When he was done, the only way she knew he suffered was the white knuckles in front of her and the pain-ravaged eyes that waited for a response.
Intuitively, she knew it wasn’t sympathy he wanted or needed, but understanding and compassion. Was she strong enough to do that for him? Would it be more than she could handle? What about Maddie? What would happen to her if things went south?
She pulled in a breath and let it out slowly. “Is that all?”
His guttural laugh held no humor. “That’s not enough?”
She didn’t react to his sharpness. “I know nothing about PTSD, Max. Nothing that’s useful anyway. But I’m willing to learn.” She hesitated briefly before placing both her hands over his fist. “You’ve been to hell and back. I can’t imagine what it’s been like for you.”
She felt the tremble in his hand, heard the hitch in his breathing, and tightened her grip.
“It’d kill me if I hurt you,” he whispered through clenched lips, “or Maddie.”
“You’re a good man, Max. That much I know.” She paused. “I’ve never been through the kind of trauma you have, but I know what it’s like to face adversity alone.”
“I may not be as messed up as I was a year ago, Sky, but I’m not over it. They don’t happen often anymore, but the nightmares still come around, the panic attacks…”
“I know. But my heart tells me you’re someone worth taking a chance on.” She squeezed his hand again. “One day, one thing at a time, Max.”
His throat moved with each rapid swallow as his gaze remained locked with hers. “Maddie?”
“I’ll talk to her tonight.” She gave a rueful shake of her head. “If I know her, she’ll Google it the first chance she gets.”
“I don’t want her…or you to be afraid of me. But…something could happen. If something should trigger an episode…” He inhaled deeply. “Dr. Bellamy’s number—my shrink at the VA—is on speed dial on my phone. The first one.”
She considered his statement. How violent was he? She didn’t really know anything about him. Once again, her gut countered. She trusted him. He was a good man. Deciding information was power, she picked her questions.
“Are the episodes…violent?”
He shook his head. “Usually just anxiety, panic attacks.” Twin lines of worry formed on his forehead, and his gaze bored into hers. “Doesn’t mean that won’t happen, though.” He shifted in his chair, pulled his hand from under hers. “I’ve had a couple of minor episodes lately that I was able to control.” His jaw clenched and released. “Had the damn nightmare the other day, too. Hadn’t had one in almost a year.”
“Medication?”
“No. I hate drugs. And Dr. Bellamy said I seem to do better on my own.” Sadness clouded his features. “Cade was right about one thing, though.” He drew in a shaky breath. “I’m no good for you.”
She went to him and knelt on the floor, resting her hands on his knees. “Well, Cade’s an asshole, and we don’t care what he thinks.”
He gave a low, raspy moan. “I don’t deserve someone like you.”
She rose and clasped his head in her hands. “You deserve better than me.”
He froze, hands fisted on his thighs. “There is no one better than you,” he whispered. Slowly, as though afraid movement might break the spell that bound them, he slid his hands up around her waist and pulled her forward.
He rested his head against her chest as she rubbed the tight muscles in his back. Silent sobs racked his body as they clung to each other. Two lost and lonely souls overwhelmed by the knowledge that they were no longer alone.
Sky pulled the thrift-store quilt up around Maddie’s chest and tucked it in. “So, do you have any questions?”
The child shook her head. “No, ma’am. I understand. He got hurt being a soldier and sometimes has bad dreams. Like when I watched that scary dinosaur movie.” She placed her stuffed bunny in the crook of her arm. “And sometimes he remembers when he doesn’t want to, and it makes him sad.”
Leave it to a child to reduce a complex subject to its simplest form. “That’s right.”
“He’s really nice, isn’t he?”
Sky smiled. “Yes. He is.”
“Can we help him not be sad?”
“We can try.” Sky chewed her lower lip, unsure of just how much more to say. “But something might happen that we can’t help him with. Or he might say or do something that’s, well, a little scary.”
Bow-shaped lips pursed. “Miss Gail said he got a purple medal for being a soldier. That makes him a hero, right?”
“Well, yes, I suppose so.”
“Heroes don’t hurt people.”
Sky had no rebuttal for her child’s determined statement. “One more thing.” She smoothed the covers on Maddie’s bed. “You have an inquisitive nature and ask a lot of questions. But this isn’t something you can ask about.”
“Max doesn’t mind my questions. He said so.”
“I know. But this is different. This is…very personal and not something you should ask about.”
“You told me when I had my bad dream that talking about it made it go away.”
