Page 96 of The Beginning and End of Everything
"Being a smartass will get you nowhere, Mr. O’Kieffe." She sighs. Again. She does an awful lot of that.
"Look, I turned myself in. Willingly walked through the damn gates. What more do you people want from me?"
"I understand that, but what I'm afraid you don’t understand is that unless I can document what your reason for leaving your post was, you may very well end up in jail. Depending on whether you were someone who was tired of being at war or someone who has suffered severe mental trauma, the punishment the military sees fit varies." She arches a brow. "Greatly."
I place my palms flat on her desk, clenching my jaw so hard it hurts. "With all due respect,doctor, until you have been in a war zone, until you have watched the only brother you ever had die, you can't help me. Your books don't even come close. The only person who can help me is beyond these walls, so just do whatever you need to do. Let me serve my time, so I can get back to her."
"I’m doing what I need to do." She opens the drawer again, pulling out another one of those damn questionnaires. "You do what I need you to do, and I'll make sure you get back to her as soon as possible."
"Fine." I go over her questions, answering themalmosttruthfully.
* * *
It's beenover a week since I've seen Poppy, and the second I lay eyes on her, it's like I can breathe properly again.
She sits at a small table next to the window in the visiting room, her gaze trained on the world outside. Her teeth gnaw at her bottom lip, and I can practically feel the anxiety rolling off her from here.
"Hey," I say, taking a seat opposite her.
"Why didn't you tell me?" Her voice is shaking, her eyes turbulent.
Taking one of her balled up fists into my hand, I smooth her fingers out and brush my lips over her knuckles.
She snatches her hand away and glares at me. "Don't try to charm me, Brandon. Answer my fucking question."
I have to stifle a laugh because damn she has a dirty mouth when she's pissed. "Didn't Finn explain this?" It was shitty of me to leave it to Finn to tell her, but I knew she’d fight me.
"Are you serious right now? I didn't wantFinnto explain it to me." She stands and snatches her purse from the table.
Pushing to my feet, I grab her wrist and yank her towards me. We collide before my lips slam over hers. Her body goes rigid, and then she softens and becomes pliant in my arms.
When my heartbeat slows and my mind calms, I pull away, resting my forehead against hers. "Please don't go," I breathe, stroking over her cheek.
“Sometimes, I hate you." She sighs. "You should’ve told me."
"You wouldn't have let me do it, and I needed to, poss. For us." I force myself to step away from her and sit down. "This might be the only time in my life that I actually made the right decision. Don't hate me for it."
She falls into the chair across from me, her shoulders sagging with defeat. "How long do you have to stay here?"
"No idea. It all depends on what the shrink says."
"Oh God, I'm sure the doctor is having a field day with you."
"I don't think she likes me."
"You better not be an asshole to her." Poppy gives me a stern look. "You've been an asshole, haven't you?"
"I'm a delight!"
"Great, they'll never let you out in that case. You know..." Her gaze falls to her lap, and she begins fidgeting with a loose string on her sweater. "I talked to Fergus, one of the military guys at work. He said that since you have PTSD, they should let you go as long as you agree to treatment."
"Who the hell is Fergus?" I scowl across the table. What kind of stupid name is Fergus? "He sounds like a prick."
Throwing her head back, she groans and drags a hand down her face. "That's all you heard? He's one of the guys that rotate through Headley Court. He gave me some books on PTSD to help me—"
"Yeah, I'm sure that's what he was doing,helpingyou."
She rolls her eyes. "Stop. Focus on the issue at hand. PTSD.”
