Page 35 of Party of Three

Mateo’s hands were still shaking as he stumbled into the villa’s spacious walk-in shower.

In an instant, the ocean had gone from feeling like a refreshing balm to a freezing vise grip that might drag him under and crush him. The shower’s warm spray made that moment of paralyzing panic feel a little bit further away, but fear still thrummed inside his bones.

He’d ruined everything. Sent their wild weekend spinning down the drain, all because he’d wanted to be strong in front of Jeff.

After he dried himself off, he went for the bottle of champagne they hadn’t touched the night before, feeling like the sweaty warmth of his fingers against the glass ruined this special gift as well. It had been intended for celebration and romance. Now he was fishing it out of a bucket of melted ice and gulping a glass of its lukewarm contents like it was medicine.

A shame spiral, that’s what he was in.

One of the therapists, the one he’d liked the better of the two, had taught him the term. But he’d given up on her after she asked him to keep a daily log of when his memories of the accident were the worst. In the moment, he’d nodded and agreed. But his stomach had twisted at the thought, and he’d known right then he’d never set foot in her office again. He couldn’t decide what was worse—reliving his near drowning or admitting how frequently he was overpowered by flashbacks.

The bathroom, for some reason, felt safe. Maybe because he could lock the door if Buckley and Jeff came back. But he forgot to and the next thing he knew, he was sitting on the tile floor, back resting against the tub, staring down at the nearly empty flute in his hands.

He heard the villa’s entry door open. Jeff gently called his name. A dull voice inside his head told him to get up and lock himself in the bathroom. Fake sick. Food poisoning. Whatever. Anything but this. Anything but fear.

But before he could will himself to move, they were standing in the bathroom door, towering over him, it seemed. The expressions on their faces were full of loving concern, but their height made him feel judged. When they sank to the floor on either side of him, the tears he’d been fighting tensed his jaw and blurred his vision. They were coming down to his level, taking his hands gently, bringing their warmth to him, making the tile floor and the side of the tub his back rested against feel less cold all of a sudden.

“You trying to impress me, buddy?” Jeff asked softly. “You think I don’t know how hard it was, what you went through? I was down there with you. It was almost lights-out for both of us. You don’t shake that kinda thing off like a bad cold.”

“It was a fucking training accident. It’s not like it was combat, you know?”

“The Osprey’s killed fifty-seven Marines in twenty-three years. They had to ground the whole fleet for months before it was good to fly again. Don’t think for one damn minute what you went through is any less than someone who had to stare down an IED after it blew.”

There it was. Jeff had hit a bull’s-eye—he wasn’t dealing with his PTSD because he thought it was somehow less serious than the gnarly shit Marines like Jeff had been through in combat.

“What youbothwent through,” Buckley said softly.

Jeff nodded. “I’m going to tell you what they told me after I got back from my first deployment. There’s PTSD and then there’s what you tell yourself about PTSD. Sometimes that second thing hurts a lot worse.”

“What hurts is not living up to your standards.”

“Mystandards?” Jeff sounded like someone had knocked the wind out of him. He pulled Mateo close with one arm around his shoulders. Mateo wanted to keep his head up, maybe bring their lips together, but he was still too embarrassed, and so the man’s lips grazed his forehead instead. “You’re not my Marine anymore, Cano. You’re moving on, trying new things. I don’t need you combat ready. I need you happy. I need you here with us. And I sure as hell don’t need you plowing headfirst into the ocean before you’re ready. I would’ve gone anywhere you wanted me to on dry land today. I still will.”

When Jeff kissed his forehead, Mateo felt the cold of the sea leave his bones at last. “I’m putting Buckley through hell.”

Shaking his head, Buckley tightened his grip on Mateo’s hand. “You’re not, baby. I just hate seeing you like this.”

“You’re always so helpful and you’re always coming up with ideas on how to deal with this and I’m always bailing or shooting it down.”

Buckley swallowed and looked to Jeff.

“It’s hard to talk about this kind of stuff with people who haven’t been through it,” Jeff said. “I’ve got a guy. Really good therapist, but he’s former enlisted. He’s down by me but he does weekend sessions, and your insurance should cover it.” Jeff tightened his grip on the back of Mateo’s neck. “This guy, he was the first I could sit with. Open up to.” He looked to Buckley. “I’m sure the other therapists were fine, but there’s a shift that happens when you’re talking with someone who’s served. I can’t describe it. But it’s important. A big part of what you’re dealing with is self-judgment. This guy, he’s never made me feel judged.”

Mateo nodded. “I’ll do it.”

“That’s right. You’ll do at least five sessions. If money’s an issue, I’ll help you out. But you’re not bailing before five.”

“Or else what?” Mateo looked into Jeff’s eyes for the first time since they’d all ended up on the bathroom floor together.

Jeff smiled. “Or else you’re never going to get to see me fuck your boyfriend.”

Mateo huffed with laughter. “That sounds like cruel and unusual punishment.”

“I second that,” Buckley said.

It was the first time he could remember crying in front of the man he’d worshiped.

It was certainly the first time, after baring his soul to him, that their lips had met.

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