Page 36 of Entangled
This must be what compassion feels like.
“Thank you,” I whisper, returning her embrace. I close my eyes and breathe in her scent as she massages away the tension in my neck and shoulders.
“No need to thank me. Trust me, hugging you is no hardship.”
With her arms and legs locked around me, we fit together like two pieces of the same puzzle. Not just any pieces though, but the final two needed to complete the picture. I don’t think I’ve ever felt whole—not even before my deployment—but here I am, wrapped in the arms of an angel who has no idea how deeply her kindness moves me. How is it that a woman I met yesterday has the power to put me back together? Rowan is the magic that turns a sparse, weathered evergreen into a Christmas tree. She’s the light and beauty to my darkness, and I can’t get enough of her.
“How come you don’t have a tree?” I ask, remembering the lack of decorations in her home.
She leans back to meet my gaze. “We have six, but they’re in my dad’s part of the house.”
“Six trees?”
“Yes. Dad loves Christmas, and it makes him happy to see the pretty lights and ornaments. He doesn’t get to partake in the town’s festivities anymore, so we put trees in the rooms he spends the most time in. Greta and I put them up right after Halloween. We usually leave them up until the beginning of February.”
I nod. “Nice. How come you don’t have one in your space though?”
“I learned early on that Eugene and Christmas trees don’t mix. He thinks he can climb them, and you’ve seen how huge he is. I got tired of all the broken ornaments.”
“Makes sense.”
“I thought he was in here attacking you. That’s why I came running.”
“Nope. That was all me.” Shame washes over me again. “Sorry for breaking your stuff.”
“It’s fine.” She rubs circles on my upper back. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Do I? Not really. Yet something about being tangled in her arms makes me want to divulge all my secrets.
“It’s a recurring nightmare. I rarely have a night without it.”
Her eyes soften. “From when you were a prisoner?”
“Yeah.” After a few moments of silence, I add, “I don’t think I’ll ever truly be free.”
“How can I help?”
“You’re already doing it, Princess.”
Rowan brushes the hair back from my face. “I want to do more. Let me help you heal. If that means talking about it, I’ll listen. If you don’t want to discuss it, that’s fine too.”
Chelsea never wanted to hear about my final days in active duty.Keep the past in the pastwas her motto. The therapists I saw at the VA helped, but they got paid. It was their job to listen to me. It’s hard to believe this sweet young woman wants me to weigh her down with my trauma.
“It’s a lot of dark, heavy shit, Rowan. I don’t want to lay all that on you.”
“Maybe talking about it will make things a little brighter and lighter.”
“Doubtful, but I appreciate the offer.”
“Talk to me, Henry. Let me carry some of your burden.”
I’m not sure if it’s the sincerity in her eyes, or the way she’s holding me, but I suddenly want to give her a glimpse into my mind. Maybe she’ll run away screaming. Maybe she won’t. Either way, it forces me to unpack some trauma. Hopefully, I can leave those pieces of me behind.
“I was what the Marines called a scout sniper. Things have changed recently, and there has been some platoon restructuring, but that’s another story. Anyway, I mainly did reconnaissance.”
“And shot some bad guys?”
“Yeah.” I don’t elaborate because she doesn’t need to know just how many bad guys I’ve shot. I wish I could forget the number, but my days as a sniper still haunt me. “I was trailing a group of militants and feeding information to my commander. We had our sights set on one guy in particular. He’d masterminded several IED attacks that cost us good men. Anyway, I was closing in on his hideout when a kid wandered into the hot zone. He was maybe five or six, and I have no clue where he came from.”
