His Purple Heart

29 - Avalanche Tears

I sat on the bed stunned, confused, totally overwhelmed with a headache I could feel behind my eyes.

Trystan had called me a slut, and he wasn't even drunk. His anger was palpable, his voice hard and unforgiving. His eyes were the color of frosted mint, mirrors that concealed nothing. I saw worry, fear, and a primal need to protect me, but I was so used to protecting myself that I didn't know what to make of it.

"Don't you dare judge me," I said.

He took a slow step toward the bed. "Did you or did you not try to make out with a guy you barely know?"

"That's none of your business," I gritted.

He got closer, forcing me to adjust my position on the bed so I could look up at him. "Of course, it's my business. How can you be so clueless about how I feel about you? That man assaulted you and you expect me to pretend like it never happened?"

"It happened, yes, but we need to talk about the fact that you hurt me too, Trystan. Can we talk about that?"

"That's not the same," he said through a clenched jaw.

"You don't trust yourself around me," I said, ignoring the denial in his voice. "You think I don't notice the wary look in your eyes and the way you walk as if on eggshells. You're scared that you're going to hurt me again."

His jaw tightened. "I told you it wouldn't happen again."

"You don't know that." I tugged on my burrowed sweater and pushed my hands through the sleeves so I could brush my hair away from my eyes. "You have to accept the fact that certain things are out of your control. It's okay to admit that you can't stop yourself from lashing out during a nightmare, the same way you can't stop yourself from having the nightmares in the first place."

Trystan sat down on the bed next to me but didn't touch me. "Debra, there are ways, at least, that work for me. Ziggy nudges me awake and then he sits back until I've oriented myself. The first few seconds after I wake up can be confusing. I don't always know where I am. Only after I acknowledge him does he snuggle up to me."

"So Ziggy's the answer to our problem?"

"Yes, he's trained to wake me up. If he's not around, you have to let me ride it out."

"I can't imagine what that's like, to constantly relive the horror and confusion."

"They come sporadically now and it's usually the same dream but with different elements. Sometimes my sister's in the Humvee with us and other times I'm sitting in the passenger seat. Canada was the first time I slept with anyone since after the explosion."

I scratched my head. "What are we doing, Trystan?"

"What do you mean?"

"This. Us."

"I want you back in my bed and I don't want you terrified when you're in it." He caressed my bottom lip with his thumb, lashes lowered, green eyes dark.

"I'm worried about your drinking," I said against his hand.

"I have it under control."

"That's what she used to say too," I whispered.

"Who?"

"My mother."

"It's not easy, you know. Addiction is hard to kick. It's a vile disease that will ruin you and everything around you if you let it. Why didn't you tell me about your mom's addiction?"

I shrugged. "It's not something I like to talk about."

"Why not?"

"My mother drank way too much. I'm surprised her liver's still working." I chuckled, hoping to lighten the mood in the room a little.