Page 32 of Anything for You
“I got depressed and eventually, suicidal. I never attempted, but I came close. Kenny, Beast, Luc, Doc… all the guys, they were there for me.”
My breathing had shallowed and I forbade my eyes from leaking out the liquid emotion rising in me. This man… this strong, beautiful man. “I’m so sorry.”
He shook those words off. “I am, too. I’m sorry I put them through it, I’m sorry I put me through it. I’m sorry for the people who didn’t survive that deployment and how the ripple effect of those events still impact my life and others’, even today. But I’m also grateful.”
I studied him, aching to understand. So much hurt, yet also so much compassion. It was a dichotomy, one I was realizing made Dorian who he was, a study in contradictions that somehow also made perfect sense. He had been in situations that demanded brutality but he was entirely gentle. He seemed so closed and withdrawn on the outside, but here he was sharing these most intimate truths.
“I struggled with why I survived and three of my teammates didn’t. I struggled with how not to hate myself for things I’d done, even though when I did them, they’d been justified and part of the mission. I even started hating things about myself—my face, my chin, my size… I was just misery wrapped in anger shrouded in grief and it all added up to depression that took me years to figure out.”
Realizing I’d frozen with my teacup oddly suspended, I set it down with a slight rattle. “You didn’t give up.”
With a small shake of his head and a grim smile, he continued. “I didn’t. But it’s not all tidy. I still struggle. Ihave to be careful with my routines and the things that help me feel good. I go to therapy, and I do what works. And I try not to fear slipping back into that place where even lifting my head to greet a friend felt like a task too great.”
My heart cracked open and I stood. He rose, too, his exemplary manners on full display.
“Would it be terribly presumptuous of me to give you a hug?”
His gaze nearly burned into me as though he were looking for a reason I needed to offer him this. He would find no words from me because I didn’t have them. I only knew the gut-level demand ruling me said to hug this man this instant.
When he nodded, I stepped right into his space and wrapped my arms around his solid torso, then squeezed.
His scent was pine trees and crisp air and a sweetness like honey or spun sugar and lemon. It was absolutely divine and if I had been any more lost to the moment, I might’ve nuzzled my face into his chest and huffed him like a scented candle.
“I’m so sorry you’ve had to go through that,” I said into the cool fabric of his dark blue button-down.
His arms loosened, and I took the cue. Focusing on the food and table so I wouldn’t tumble over it and ruin the afternoon, I settled back into my seat and thought through what else I could say.
“Still working through mild agoraphobia and ochlophobia with a side of anxiety and depression. So I’m…”
His expression darkened, and my heart stuttered, waiting for what judgment he might settle on himself. I couldn’t stand the idea that he’d fault himself for the fallout of a traumatic event, or what was likely multiple events over many years.
“You’re amazing. And I’m not saying that because I’m hoping for more treats on my doorstep. I’m saying it because you are. You haven’t given up and you’re still working toward healing, even when it’s hard.” My chin wobbled, the jerk, but I pressed my lips together to steady it. “I just think, not everyone keeps working. But here you are, and you’ve got this whole regimen of things that you know help, so you do them.”
“I also live on a tree farm and only see people when I’m willing to,” he mumbled, nudging a half-eaten éclair around his plate.
“Well, me, too.”
His gaze flicked to mine, and he raised a brow. “Guess that’s true.”
“See?” I shrugged. “I’m not sure I know anyone without a little cocktail of anxieties and traumas, though I know they don’t always affect people the same way. I don’t mean to make light of what you’ve been or are currently going through. More that… you’re not alone. Maybe in your unique mix of things you have to deal with, yes. Those are all yours. But in terms of being someone who’s just trying to figure out how to handle what’s been piled on his plate?” I reached out and touched the back of his hand with the tip of my pinky, then held his gaze with mine. “In that, you’re not alone.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Dorian
Dove’s words flapped around me like mangey birds at the beach for the rest of our tea, diving and pecking at me mid-thought.
In that, you’re not alone.
Even two years ago, I might’ve fought her on the idea. Now, there was no refuting it. Andright now, as she threw her head back and cackled at something I’d just said—yeah, me—I couldn’t help but acknowledge she made me feel less alone than I’d ever felt.
It was glorious.
It was also awful.
I’d never liked a woman like this—in a soul-deep kind of gnawing way that meant I had to remind myself not to stare at her pretty, heart-shaped face or those pink lips, or her bright blue eyes, and also in the sense that I wanted to gather her up in my arms and shield her from anything thatmight threaten this sparkle she got when she was being a little silly.
Every second spent in her vicinity was a new bridge formed between my heart and hers. I had no idea if she’d allow passage, but I wanted it.
