Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 85725 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 429(@200wpm)___ 343(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85725 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 429(@200wpm)___ 343(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
Calm.
Eerie.
Silence.
Guess I should go first?
“I completely understand why you have to take back your offer.”
Jaye shifts herself in her seat to properly face me. “I don’t.”
The expression on my face instantly becomes skeptical. “Jaye.”
“Archer.”
“It’s not…It’s not a good idea for me to be around you. Around anyone. Especially not when I get like that. Not when I’m…having a fucked-up episode.”
“You suffer from PTSD.”
“Most of Uncle Sam’s mercenaries do.”
The bitterness in my retort receives an eyebrow lift of question.
“It’s…really not uncommon to comeback from duty with some…damage – mental as much as physical. I was no exception. Just like when I got lost in the cracks of government paperwork that could’ve helped me when I fucking needed it the most.” One hand runs across my face in a desperate attempt to remain cool. Collected. “Flashing lights sometimes trigger a response in me. They take me out of this moment and place me back in one where-” not ready to explain that situation has me shaking my head rather than continuing. “In the beginning, I would self-medicate like many others do. I didn’t like it. It didn’t always work. And sometimes it made it worse. And it’s expensive. And drugs like that are always addictive. And it fucks up the body’s system. And I don’t need any more fucking damage while I’m just out here trying to survive.” I briefly look away before adding. “Look, like I said, it doesn’t always happen, but when it does I’m typically alone where I can’t hurt anyone but me.”
“You weren’t gonna hurt me, Archer.”
“You don’t know that, Jaye.”
“I know what I saw.” Her challenge threatens to have to look elsewhere. “You weren’t reliving combat. You were reliving trying to stay alive. Getting to others who needed you. And while I want all the details of that situation, I won’t push for them. Not until you’re ready.”
“Jaye-”
“And you having an illness – that you haven’t been able to receive proper treatment for might I add – isn’t a reason to revoke my previous decision to move you in. You need help, which I know you hate to hear and accept, but you do. Help, Archer. Not hatred. Not rejection. Not abandonment. Just. Help.”
Pride infused with self-disgust has me shutting my eyes and growling. “I. Don’t. Need. Your. Sympathy.”
“Then it’s a good thing I’m just offering you my kindness.”
The words fill the rims of my eyelids against my own volition.
Fuck, I hate having a body that doesn’t listen to me.
“Buckle your seatbelt, please.” Her instruction is spoken as though nothing between us has changed. “What kind of enchilada sauce did we buy?”
I lift my lids to complete the task, to focus my stare on anything but her for the time being.
“Was it red or green? Please tell me it was red. I’ve never really liked the green one, but Chris always preferred it, which may be why ordering Dos Mamas has always been my go-to for Mexican food at home because it was the only way we could both get what we wanted.”
“You deserve to get what you want, sweetheart.” Still unable to meet her gaze, I quietly add, “And I plan to do everything within my power to make that happen for you no matter the case.”
All of a sudden, her hand stretches across the short space to rest on top of mine.
Protectively.
Compassionately.
Adoringly.
Unlike her, I don’t deserve anything good that’s coming my way. I don’t deserve the money or time or effort being spent to keep me alive. I don’t deserve someone to listen to me. To care. I deserve a pine box and an empty funeral. Nothing more. How can I make her understand that? How can I make you understand that? When will the two of you fucking get that?
Chapter 9
Jaye
I can’t believe we’re really about to do this.
Gah…should we be doing this?
Is it sanitary?
What? No! I’m not talking about living with Archer. I’m talking about Goat Yoga! My gym has been hosting the new trend once a month for the past year, and I’ve really wanted to give it a try. They’re just so cute! Archer was actually the one who really encouraged me to give it a go this weekend. Insisting that I have nothing to lose. He even offered to try it with me, which may be why I went ahead and decided to take the plunge today. Not because I can’t work out alone – um obviously I can as I have for most my gym membership career – but because it means he’ll finally leave the house again. He hasn’t since the episode at the grocery store almost two weeks ago. He says it’s for safety. I say it’s from embarrassment. Nonetheless, me wanting to do downward dog with a baby farm animal seems to overthrow any of his lingering reluctance to being out in public once more. Honestly, his incident didn’t scare me as much as it scared him. I can’t imagine what it’s like to not know where you are or who you are or who you can trust. I can’t imagine not getting the help you need or not wanting help anymore at all. However, despite his huffle puffle, I am going to help. Hell, I’m already doing everything I can to! I read books about the disorder on my lunch break at work – never in front of him because I don’t want it to accidently conjure up more shame, which I don’t think he should feel at all – and I’ve casually had my mother pulling me information, slyly spinning the truth of it having to do with a discussion brought up by someone at work – which is technically true since my boss asked me about what I was reading one day during my downtime. Knowledge is the best weapon in a person’s arsenal, and I am getting locked and loaded. Ugh. Forgive the terrible metaphor. I watched a cheesy 80's cop movie with my parents last night, and I’ve been using themed phrases ever since. Archer laughed so hard at the one I did during breakfast he almost choked on his coffee. Hm? Oh, no. I don’t mind leaving him here by himself. I mean I do because I think he’ll get lonely and needs to socialize but not because I think he’s going to steal from me. Please don’t start on that. Gwenith makes snide marks about that shit every chance she gets. And I’m not too trusting. I just…I go with my gut. And my gut says Archer Cox is a good man. One that I’m glad has walked into my life. One that cooks – some of the best macaroni and cheese from scratch I’ve ever had – and cleans – the maid even made a comment about not needing to come as often – and organizes – he started fixing up the area around Chris’s model cities, throwing away old dried-up paint containers. Besides all that, he makes me laugh. All. The. Time! We laugh at scenes from books and shows and movies and even each other. What can I say? He makes me very punny! I’m like one long, poorly constructed, kid joke with crazy curls, I tell ya.