I put my arms around her and held her close. “It just wasn’t that clear-cut all the time.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, like what I was talking about earlier. Sometimes it was hard to tell if we were actually accomplishing anything or not. There was a lack of … clarity as to what winning would look like. And there was a lot of death.” I swallowed hard. “It’s not an easy thing to live with.”
“No. It can’t be.”
“You have to do things you know are wrong on a human level. Things that violate your strongest moral convictions, but you can’t stop to think about that. You can’t stop to feel. So you learn to … kill your feelings too, I guess.”
She nodded. Pressed her lips to my shoulder.
“Except …” Stop fucking talking, said a voice in my head. But I couldn’t. I fucking couldn’t. “You can’t just kill some feelings. Maybe you try, but it doesn’t work that way. You end up killing all of them.”
Stella sniffled and nodded. Kissed my shoulder again.
“Then you come home and you can’t talk about shit, and you realize how against the war everyone is, how no one thinks we should be there, nobody thinks it’s worth the cost, and you’re like … fuck you all. You sent us there. People are dying for this. People are killing for this. Was it all just political bullshit and lies? I violated some of my deepest held beliefs for this war. Was it worth it?”
She wiped off her cheeks. “I don’t know.”
Congratulations, asshole. You made her cry some more.
“Is that why you think you don’t feel anything?” she asked quietly.
“I know I don’t.”
She picked her head up and looked at me. “I don’t believe you.”
“It’s true.”
“When you were talking about your mom just now, you felt something. I’m sure you did.”
I set my jaw stubbornly. “That’s different. That’s a memory.”
“Still. It made you feel something, didn’t it?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.” I thought about the photos Bones kept sending me. How I could hardly stand to look at them.
“You’re a man, Ryan, not a machine. But you had to perform like a machine during war, which you were carefully trained to do. Then you come home, and you’re expected to be a civilian again, but no one tells you how. No one tells you how to process all the grief and guilt and regret you’ve buried in order to do your job. They expect you to just ‘be a man’ and get on with it. That’s fucked up.”
“Yeah. That’s exactly what it is.” I shouldn’t have been amazed at her ability to grasp the situation—I knew how good she was at reading people. And I liked how she didn’t insist I had to forgive myself. I didn’t want to be absolved of anything. I wasn’t like my father, who claimed absolution by quoting Proverbs. Maybe there was a God and maybe there wasn’t, but if there was, I sure as hell didn’t expect him to pardon me for what I’d done.
Stella was looking at me like she wanted to say something else, but was holding back.
“What?” I asked.
She sat up and propped herself on one arm. “I want to ask you something, but I don’t want you to get mad at me.”
“I won’t get mad at you,” I said.
“Grams said you were married?”
This was the last thing I wanted to talk about right now. But I felt like I owed her the truth. What else did I have to give her? “Yeah. I was.”
“For how long?”
“About five years. But I was away for about half the time. I re-enlisted right after we were married.”
She nodded. “Is that what broke up the marriage? The separation?”
I exhaled, putting my hands behind my head again. “It was a lot of things. I wasn’t a good husband.”
“I don’t believe that either.”
Christ, she was as stubborn as I was. “Ask her if you don’t believe me.”
“Where is she now?”
“I assume back in Cleveland with her new and much improved husband. They might even have a baby by now.”
She thought for a moment. “You didn’t want kids?”
“Nah. I’m not dad material.”
“But do you want them? Even if you think you wouldn’t be good at it, I mean. Is being a father something you think about?”
“No,” I lied. “No wife and kids for me. I’m not cut out for that kind of thing.”
She traced a scar on my rib cage, her eyes on her fingers. “Is that because you think you’d disappoint them? You said something earlier on the porch about always setting yourself up to disappoint people.”
Okay, now she was getting a little too deep inside my psyche. Better to retreat. “No. It’s because I don’t want them. I like living alone.”
“That’s right. You told me that.”
“What about you? Do you want kids?”
She nodded. “Definitely.”
I tucked some hair behind her ear, trying not to think about some other guy going to bed with her every night. Someone steady, with an MBA and a leather briefcase and a closet full of suits. Or at least a goddamn dresser. He’d support her career, too, coming home early a few nights a week to make a nutritious dinner for their two perfect kids. He’d deserve her.
I couldn’t bear the thought.
Quickly sitting up and flipping her onto her back, I braced myself above her. “So now I get to ask you about something you said earlier today.”
“Okay.”
“You said you’re always setting yourself up for disappointment. What was that all about?”
“Oh.” She made a face. “I just always seem to pick the wrong guys.”
I cocked my brow. “Am I Exhibit A?”
She laughed. “No, silly. I mean to date. This isn’t a date, remember?”
“Oh, right.” Although I kind of wished it was. I wished a lot of things right then. “So other guys have disappointed you?”
“Yes.” Then she sighed. “Although it’s probably as much my fault as theirs. For example, the guy who just broke up with me on my birthday last week—”
“Wait a minute, wait a minute. Some asshole broke up with you on your birthday?”
“Yes. It was really horrible and embarrassing. Not because I really cared for him, but because I should have seen it coming. We had no chemistry whatsoever. Zero. We never even had sex.”
My jaw dropped. “What the fuck? Why not?”
“That’s probably my fault too.” She kind of squirmed a little. “I’ve never been that into sex. I get too self-conscious.”
“About what?”
“I don’t know.” She turned her head to the side.
“Fuck off. Yes, you do.” I was teasing her, but when she looked at me again, she was serious.
“My body.”
“Your body is absolutely perfect. On a scale of one to ten, it’s a twenty.”
“And what I do with it. Or don’t do.”
“You lost me.”
She inhaled and exhaled slowly. “Someone once made me feel like I’m not good in bed. Not hot enough. Not sexy enough.”
Fury surged through me like lightning. “Who?”
“Just a guy in college.”
“Well, I’d like to just pound my fist into his face.”
She closed her eyes, shook her head lightly. “He doesn’t matter anymore. But the experience affected me a lot. Ever since then, I’ve tended to seek out men who don’t give off a strong sexual vibe, I guess because I’m looking for someone without a lot of notches on his bedpost to compare me to. That’s why I never go for guys I’m physically attracted to. I’m protecting myself. Well—until you.”
“Good. I was starting to get a complex of my own.”
That made her smile. “With you it’s different. Really different.”
“I don’t make you nervous?”
“I can’t say that exactly, but I’m less nervous with you than I’ve ever been.” She laughed, a little bashfully. “It might be that you have me too hot and bothered to remember I’m worried. My lizard brain takes over.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, like what I was talking about earlier. Sometimes it was hard to tell if we were actually accomplishing anything or not. There was a lack of … clarity as to what winning would look like. And there was a lot of death.” I swallowed hard. “It’s not an easy thing to live with.”
“No. It can’t be.”
“You have to do things you know are wrong on a human level. Things that violate your strongest moral convictions, but you can’t stop to think about that. You can’t stop to feel. So you learn to … kill your feelings too, I guess.”
She nodded. Pressed her lips to my shoulder.
“Except …” Stop fucking talking, said a voice in my head. But I couldn’t. I fucking couldn’t. “You can’t just kill some feelings. Maybe you try, but it doesn’t work that way. You end up killing all of them.”
Stella sniffled and nodded. Kissed my shoulder again.
“Then you come home and you can’t talk about shit, and you realize how against the war everyone is, how no one thinks we should be there, nobody thinks it’s worth the cost, and you’re like … fuck you all. You sent us there. People are dying for this. People are killing for this. Was it all just political bullshit and lies? I violated some of my deepest held beliefs for this war. Was it worth it?”
She wiped off her cheeks. “I don’t know.”
Congratulations, asshole. You made her cry some more.
“Is that why you think you don’t feel anything?” she asked quietly.
“I know I don’t.”
She picked her head up and looked at me. “I don’t believe you.”
“It’s true.”
“When you were talking about your mom just now, you felt something. I’m sure you did.”
I set my jaw stubbornly. “That’s different. That’s a memory.”
“Still. It made you feel something, didn’t it?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.” I thought about the photos Bones kept sending me. How I could hardly stand to look at them.
“You’re a man, Ryan, not a machine. But you had to perform like a machine during war, which you were carefully trained to do. Then you come home, and you’re expected to be a civilian again, but no one tells you how. No one tells you how to process all the grief and guilt and regret you’ve buried in order to do your job. They expect you to just ‘be a man’ and get on with it. That’s fucked up.”
“Yeah. That’s exactly what it is.” I shouldn’t have been amazed at her ability to grasp the situation—I knew how good she was at reading people. And I liked how she didn’t insist I had to forgive myself. I didn’t want to be absolved of anything. I wasn’t like my father, who claimed absolution by quoting Proverbs. Maybe there was a God and maybe there wasn’t, but if there was, I sure as hell didn’t expect him to pardon me for what I’d done.
Stella was looking at me like she wanted to say something else, but was holding back.
“What?” I asked.
She sat up and propped herself on one arm. “I want to ask you something, but I don’t want you to get mad at me.”
“I won’t get mad at you,” I said.
“Grams said you were married?”
This was the last thing I wanted to talk about right now. But I felt like I owed her the truth. What else did I have to give her? “Yeah. I was.”
“For how long?”
“About five years. But I was away for about half the time. I re-enlisted right after we were married.”
She nodded. “Is that what broke up the marriage? The separation?”
I exhaled, putting my hands behind my head again. “It was a lot of things. I wasn’t a good husband.”
“I don’t believe that either.”
Christ, she was as stubborn as I was. “Ask her if you don’t believe me.”
“Where is she now?”
“I assume back in Cleveland with her new and much improved husband. They might even have a baby by now.”
She thought for a moment. “You didn’t want kids?”
“Nah. I’m not dad material.”
“But do you want them? Even if you think you wouldn’t be good at it, I mean. Is being a father something you think about?”
“No,” I lied. “No wife and kids for me. I’m not cut out for that kind of thing.”
She traced a scar on my rib cage, her eyes on her fingers. “Is that because you think you’d disappoint them? You said something earlier on the porch about always setting yourself up to disappoint people.”
Okay, now she was getting a little too deep inside my psyche. Better to retreat. “No. It’s because I don’t want them. I like living alone.”
“That’s right. You told me that.”
“What about you? Do you want kids?”
She nodded. “Definitely.”
I tucked some hair behind her ear, trying not to think about some other guy going to bed with her every night. Someone steady, with an MBA and a leather briefcase and a closet full of suits. Or at least a goddamn dresser. He’d support her career, too, coming home early a few nights a week to make a nutritious dinner for their two perfect kids. He’d deserve her.
I couldn’t bear the thought.
Quickly sitting up and flipping her onto her back, I braced myself above her. “So now I get to ask you about something you said earlier today.”
“Okay.”
“You said you’re always setting yourself up for disappointment. What was that all about?”
“Oh.” She made a face. “I just always seem to pick the wrong guys.”
I cocked my brow. “Am I Exhibit A?”
She laughed. “No, silly. I mean to date. This isn’t a date, remember?”
“Oh, right.” Although I kind of wished it was. I wished a lot of things right then. “So other guys have disappointed you?”
“Yes.” Then she sighed. “Although it’s probably as much my fault as theirs. For example, the guy who just broke up with me on my birthday last week—”
“Wait a minute, wait a minute. Some asshole broke up with you on your birthday?”
“Yes. It was really horrible and embarrassing. Not because I really cared for him, but because I should have seen it coming. We had no chemistry whatsoever. Zero. We never even had sex.”
My jaw dropped. “What the fuck? Why not?”
“That’s probably my fault too.” She kind of squirmed a little. “I’ve never been that into sex. I get too self-conscious.”
“About what?”
“I don’t know.” She turned her head to the side.
“Fuck off. Yes, you do.” I was teasing her, but when she looked at me again, she was serious.
“My body.”
“Your body is absolutely perfect. On a scale of one to ten, it’s a twenty.”
“And what I do with it. Or don’t do.”
“You lost me.”
She inhaled and exhaled slowly. “Someone once made me feel like I’m not good in bed. Not hot enough. Not sexy enough.”
Fury surged through me like lightning. “Who?”
“Just a guy in college.”
“Well, I’d like to just pound my fist into his face.”
She closed her eyes, shook her head lightly. “He doesn’t matter anymore. But the experience affected me a lot. Ever since then, I’ve tended to seek out men who don’t give off a strong sexual vibe, I guess because I’m looking for someone without a lot of notches on his bedpost to compare me to. That’s why I never go for guys I’m physically attracted to. I’m protecting myself. Well—until you.”
“Good. I was starting to get a complex of my own.”
That made her smile. “With you it’s different. Really different.”
“I don’t make you nervous?”
“I can’t say that exactly, but I’m less nervous with you than I’ve ever been.” She laughed, a little bashfully. “It might be that you have me too hot and bothered to remember I’m worried. My lizard brain takes over.”
