Page 99 of Layla

I cast him a confused glance. “We do?”

Tim places some money on the table as he stands. “Yup. I told you there was something I wanted you to see.”

Bewildered, I follow him outside but he doesn’t walk to the car. Instead he crosses the street, approaching the church parking lot. When we get closer, I see a sign on the door.Veteran’s Healing Network.I stop dead in my tracks.

“Did you think that you could trick me into going to therapy?”

He rolls his eyes. “It’s not therapy, asshole. It’s a support group. And I’m not making you do anything.”

“Then why are we—”

He throws up his hands, exasperated. “Can you just be patient for five seconds?”

We stand there in the cold for a lot longer than five seconds. Eventually I’m bouncing on the balls of my feet to try to keep warm. Just when I’m about to tell Tim that I’ve had enough, a truck pulls into the lot, a familiar figure climbing out a moment later.

“Well if it isn’t you two assholes,” Damon Walsh says, grinning at us. “Long time no see, boys.”

I can’t hide my shock as Damon approaches us. I haven’t seen him in years—probably because I stopped going to any of the SEAL get-togethers right around the time I left the police force—but once upon a time, this man had been closer to me than a brother.

He’s grinning as he hugs each of us, slapping our backs hard, the way he always did. Out of all the guys on our team, Damon was definitely the most easygoing. He had a joke for everything, king of the witty response. Damn, I had no idea how much I missed him.

“You don’t look surprised to see us,” I realize out loud.

Damon gives Tim another slap on the back. “This guy mentioned he was gonna bring you around.” His humor filled eyes go intense as he takes me in. “You look like shit.”

I bark out a laugh. “Thanks, man. Missed you, too.”

Damon chuckles, ruffling my hair. “I did miss you, asshole. Where the hell have you been?”

Guilt seeps into my core. “Sorry, I’ve just been…I mean…”

He waves away my stammers. “Doesn’t matter, I guess. Just so long as you show your face once in a while from now on.”

I nod. “Yeah, man. I will.”

“Glad to hear it.” He nods up at the building. “You guys coming in?”

I realize, with a start, that he means the support group. “Areyougoing in?” I blurt out, unable to hide my surprise.

Damon’s face goes uncharacteristically serious. “Yeah, man. I go a few times a month.”

Holy shit. I wouldn’t have been more shocked if he’d told me he’d decided to join the circus. This guy is one of the most cheerful, well-adjusted people I know. What in the hell does he need a support group for?

As if reading my mind, he claps a hand to my shoulder, that same serious, unfamiliar expression still on his face. “It can be hard to deal with, all the shit in our heads,” he says simply. “Talking might seem lame, but it helps.” He meets my eye. “You gotta work at it, you know? But it helps.”

Well, shit. Talk about being thrown for a loop. I can’t seem to stop gaping at him, but Damon doesn’t seem bothered. I wonder how much Tim told him about my state of mind.

“You should head on in,” Tim says, looking at his expensive watch. “Think they’re starting soon.”

“You’ll be here next week?” Damon asks him, and once again I’m shocked speechless.

“Sure thing.”

Damon turns to me. “It’s really good to see you, John. Let’s get a beer soon.”

I nod, throat tight. “Yeah. Sure thing.”

He gives me one last shoulder slap before heading inside, leaving me more confused than ever. Finally, I turn to Tim and voice the first question I can wrap my mind around. “You’ll be here next week? You live in Vegas.”