Carrying the Torch

Chapter 22: Autumn

I hear a beeping noise behind me. I open my eyes to see where it's coming from. I look around. Where am I? Luke is sitting next to me, not touching me, just sitting.

Are we in a hospital? Why are we here? Why am I here?

Luke turns to me. His eyes are puffy. Has he been crying?

"What happened?" I ask.

Tears spill out of his eyes.

"Hey Beautiful," he says. He doesn't touch me.

"Luke? What happened?"

"I don't really know. I know I was having a bad dream. I woke up and you were unconscious against the wall. I think I threw you across the room. Autumn I'm so sorry. I didn't mean it. It was an accident. I'm so sorry." He's sobbing now.

Shit. He's not going to let this go. Anytime throughout his entire life when he was asked what his biggest life goal was, he would respond, "To be the best husband and father and person could have."

And I'm sure this is killing him. I put my hand on his head.

My left hand feels heavy. I look at it and realize there is a brace on it. I must've landed on it and sprained it.

))

I get out of the truck and go inside. I had to spend the night, which was like three hours. I drove us home. Luke had been distant. I know he's terrified of hurting me again. I know he always had been and always will be.

I walk upstairs to our bedroom and lay down. I don't sleep. I just lay in the middle of the bed, alone.

I know I need to figure out how to make this up to him. I need to figure out how to help him get over it. It's gonna take a long time, I know that. I realize how much this scared him. It wasn't his fault. He wasn't conscious.

I think he would hate it if he went to counseling. He obvioisly has PTSD and counseling can only help. If I went with he might be more accepting of it. But would that ruin the whole point of counseling?

But he needs help. He's always had minor nightmares about his father but nothing this bad.

I just want to help him. 

I get up and go downstairs. I look in the livingroom and see him doing pushups. He's in a mood. He does it once a day. He goes all military and starts hardcore working out.

It's okay though, I like the view. He repositions himself on the floor and begins doing sit ups.

I notice I'm still standing on the stairs so I walk to him. "Be gentle," I remind myself. I sit on the floor in front of him. He stops moving and stares into my eyes.

I don't see his eyes. I see pain. I see hurt.

He pulls himself to sit against the couch, his breathing slightly elevated. I can see his stitches through his brace. They look better.

"Hey," I say, almost in a whisper.

He bites his lip as a bead of sweat rolls down his neck. He stays silent. "I'm gonna head over to my parents' place. You wanna come?" He shakes his head, his eyes not meeting mine. "Okay," I say. I stand up and kiss the top of his sweaty head. "I'll see you in a few hours?"

He nods once. "I love you," I say before leaving.

I get in my truck and start the short drive to my childhood home. When I get there, I walk in the garage door and into the laundry room. I walk through the short hall into the living room where I see my parents sitting in their recliners.

They both turn around and smile when they see me. "Hey Autumn," dad says. "Where's Luke?" he asks.

I don't have time to answer before mom notices my brace. "What happened?" she asks. I sit on the couch.

I don't know how to answer. "I- um..." how do I explain it? "Luke um," I say before dad jumps up, fists clenched.

"What the hell did he do to my little girl?"

"Nothing. Dad, sit please." I stand up and put my hand on his chest to stop him. "I promise it wasn't his fault. He was having a nightmare, apparently he has PTSD, I tried to wake him up, but he thinks he threw me against the wall. I don't remember it. I just sprained my wrist. I promise I'm okay. He isn't though. And I don't know how to help him."

"You aren't lying to me?" he asks sternly.

"No. That's the truth. You know Luke would never hurt me, you know that."

He wraps his arms around me. It's comforting.

"So what should I do? How do I get him to realize he did nothing wrong?" Dad and I both sit back down.

"He might just need time honey," mom says. "I know how fragile Luke is when it comes to that kind of thing." My parents know a little about Luke's past, but not all of it.

"But you know how Luke and I are. I can't handle it for as long as he'll take. I miss him already and it's been what, twelve hours?"

Dad turns to me. "You made it what, six months without eachother? I think you can handle it. I know it's not ideal but you can do it."

Mom nods. "I do know how you two are, that's why I know he'll come around."

I sigh. "Yeah, I hope so. I hope soon."

"You want anything to eat?" mom asks.

"No, I'm fine. Thanks."

"I just made cookies."

"Chocolate chip?" She smirks at me. She makes the best chocolate chip cookies. "Okay fine," I smile. "But I gotta go home soon."

"How about I give you a plate to take home to Luke?" I smile. Maybe cookies will help.

))

"Luke, I'm home," I say as I walk in the door. I set the cookies on the island and take my boots off. I grab a bottle of beer from the fridge, open it and toss the lid in the trash.

I hear the TV on so I go into the livingroom. I see Luke sitting on the couch, hunched over with his head in his hands. His shoulders are shaking and I know he's crying. Shit.

I walk to him and sit down, setting my beer on the table. I wrap my arm around his waist and lay my head on his shoulder. He pulls away at first, but soon relaxes a little.

We sit in silence for a few minutes, my head on his shoulder, him crying.

"I love you," I say quietly.

I feel him take a deep breath. He looks up and his eyes are puffy and red. I rest my forehead against his. "Why? I'm no good for you. I don't deserve you."

"You're right. You don't deserve me." He looks a little shocked. "Not if you're gonna act like this. It was an accident and we both know that. You have PTSD but we can do something about it. You can go to therapy. I'll go with if you want. We'll do anything to get on top of this." He rests his head in his hands again. "Luke it's going to happen. Life is going to happen. I'm going to get hurt. Our kids are gonna get hurt. And sometimes, it might be your fault. You're gonna knock them over. But I know you'll never do it on purpose. The important thing is that you'll be there to pick them back up. That's your job as a parent. I know you never had that experience but your kids, our kids will. Luke," I say. I turn his chin to look into my eyes. "I forgive you." He bites his lip. "Okay?"

He takes a deep breath. "Okay," he says.

"I love you Lukas Reynolds."

"I love you too," he replies.