Forget Me Not (Love in the Fleet) by Heather Ashby Page B

thing for them, which is exactly what happened when I got knocked out. But Hallie made me take advantage of all the rehab—and I mean all the rehab—even talking with a shrink.”
    “Oh, I did that too. You know, the required number of sessions with the squadron doc,” Sky said.
    “No, this went beyond the required number of sessions. See…” Now it was Philip’s turn to glance around the bar, his fingers finding their way into his hair before he turned back to Sky. “I was afraid if I stopped…you know…beating myself up for not saving them, that it meant they weren’t important. Like, if I went on with my life, then their deaths didn’t really matter. And that was so not true. Is this making any sense?”
    Sky’s fingers stilled on the table, frozen in rearranging the peanut shell puzzle pieces. Did it make any sense? Did the Navy have ships? “Yeah, it makes sense. It makes perfect sense.” So maybe Sky would focus on allowing himself to move on from Daniel’s death. And then he’d be fine. But a wave of dizziness washed over him at that thought. Sky squeezed the edge of the leather seat with both hands as if to anchor himself. The very idea of leaving Daniel behind and moving forward with his own life was just plain wrong.
    Philip rolled the bottom edge of his beer bottle around the coaster, before setting it back down again. He was as nervous dumping this emotional stuff on the table as Sky was picking it up.
    Philip found his voice again. “Until I was able to get past that, I went through this thing where I didn’t think I deserved to marry Hallie and be happy. I mean, Bulldog and Harris weren’t going to get that chance, so I felt guilty about everything.”
    Sky’s heart stutter-stepped. “Exactly. So, how did you get past it?”
    “Don’t forget, Hallie had her own demons to deal with from that night. So we went out of the system. Found some good civilian doctors and paid out of pocket, but it was worth it. We could have carried that shit around with us our whole lives. See, I still couldn’t wrap my brain around why they died and I didn’t.” 
    “Bingo.” Sky replied, fingers rearranging peanut shells again.
    “But Hallie wasn’t afraid to say, ‘I need help.’ And she dragged my ass along for good measure. We stopped trying to figure out why it wasn’t us that died. Instead, we accepted that we’d been given a second chance at life, and therefore have an obligation to do good things in the world.” Philip grinned. “And what could be more positive than having a baby?”
    “Yeah, I guess so,” Sky said, mulling it over but thinking it all sounded a little too touchy-feely for him.
    “Anyway, talking with someone really helped us. You might think about it.”
    “Yeah, maybe, but I pretty much got a handle on it.” Which was a blatant lie.
    “Beating myself up for not saving my men or not dying wasn’t going to do anybody any good. Least of all my wife or my kid. The bottom line was Hallie gave me an attitude adjustment by making me focus on what I can do instead of what I can’t—or couldn’t—do.”
    Sky ran his fingers through his hair. “Sounds great in theory, but tell it to my dreams.”
    “You still leaving chicks’ beds in the middle of the night?” Philip asked.
    Sky’s heart rate ratcheted up a notch. His eyes flickered to Philip. “You know about that?”
    “Yeah, you got drunk one night and told me. How you didn’t want to risk having a nightmare in some woman’s bed.”
    “Holy shit.” Sky huffed out a breath and leaned back in the booth. “So I have a bad dream now and then. It’s not a big deal. Can’t a man have a couple of secrets?” 
    Philip’s mouth tipped up at the corner. “Not if he drinks beer, he can’t. So what are you going to do if this Daisy invites you into her bed? Leave after she’s asleep?”
    Sky’s bravado kicked in. “ If ? You mean when . This is the Skylark you’re talking to, bro. They all eventually invite