restroom. Yuki went after her, leaving an increasingly frustrated Wyatt and James alone together. Michelle was obviously losing it, but she wouldn’t let him help her. It was as if she was afraid to let him touch her and he didn’t know what to do to help her.
“Come on,” James said with a sigh.
The men made their way towards the back of the atrium with its view of a dark Lake Michigan. Wyatt took a quick look around, then said in a low voice, “I’m worried about Michelle.”
“Me too. She’s not handling this well.”
“I think taking her to the club tonight is going to be a huge mistake.”
James shook his head. “Maybe not. It might be just what Michelle needs, a chance to work off her guilt and frustration.”
“That’s easy for you to say. You’re not the one that she’ll be working out her frustration on.”
With a grin James gave his shoulder a quick squeeze, the man version of a hug. “I bet once Michelle sees the surprise we have for her she’ll snap out of her funk.”
“I think it’s more than a funk.” Wyatt glanced around at the crowd now filling the tables for dinner. “I’m worried about her.”
“Yuki’s with her now. I’ll take her aside and talk to her before we leave. If she thinks Michelle can’t handle the club I’ll let you know and help you shove her into a cab myself.” Running his hand through his short blond hair James let out a low sigh. “ The last thing you want is for Michelle to think that you see her as being unable to handle herself. If she feels like she has to prove something she’ll push herself too far, no matter the consequences.”
Wyatt thought back to the times he’d seen Michelle push herself to the breaking point while treating the wounded. For a moment sorrow hit him hard enough that tears came to his eyes as he thought about the men and women who would never have the chance to go to a wedding again, to appreciate the sight of the moon reflecting off the water, and have the opportunity to enjoy the beauty of the world.
A list of names and faces flashed through him in little memory explosions. Mikey Salazar from Encino, California. He’d had a beautiful girlfriend waiting at home for him but he’d gotten blown to bits by a direct hit from a mortar while he was on patrol. They didn’t even have a body to bury. Vince Caffries from some small town in Oregon had a mother who would write him every day, telling him about life back home. They’d been planning a parade to celebrate his return before he’d been shot in the neck and had bled out while Wyatt tried to desperately staunch the wound. The memory of that blood brought to mind pretty First Class Petty officer Tanisha Jones. She’d been found hanging from the rafters in a supply tent after she received word that her solider husband had died stopping a suicide bomber while on duty.
His heart began to race and when James touched his arm he almost hit the other man.
“Whoa,” James said as he held his hands up, his intelligent gaze searching Wyatt’s face. “You okay?”
The urge to spit phantom dust from his mouth overcame Wyatt and he swallowed hard. “Give me a second.”
He focused on one of the fountains nearby, making himself try to figure out the timing of the sprays of water. They weren’t like regular fountains that just burbled or flowed. These fountains had streams of water that would shoot through the atrium in impossibly high arcs, only to land in another fountain, then leap again. They seemed to move in arcs of seven seconds and he forced himself to follow the pattern of the leaping water.
As his gaze moved to a fountain off to his right he caught a glimpse of Michelle and Yuki walking towards them. A little bit of redness rimmed Michelle’s eyes and he wondered if she’d been crying. Her gait was as lovely and controlled as ever, but he could read the tension in her body. She needed him right now so he had to put his bullshit PTSD on the back burner.
Turning to
“Come on,” James said with a sigh.
The men made their way towards the back of the atrium with its view of a dark Lake Michigan. Wyatt took a quick look around, then said in a low voice, “I’m worried about Michelle.”
“Me too. She’s not handling this well.”
“I think taking her to the club tonight is going to be a huge mistake.”
James shook his head. “Maybe not. It might be just what Michelle needs, a chance to work off her guilt and frustration.”
“That’s easy for you to say. You’re not the one that she’ll be working out her frustration on.”
With a grin James gave his shoulder a quick squeeze, the man version of a hug. “I bet once Michelle sees the surprise we have for her she’ll snap out of her funk.”
“I think it’s more than a funk.” Wyatt glanced around at the crowd now filling the tables for dinner. “I’m worried about her.”
“Yuki’s with her now. I’ll take her aside and talk to her before we leave. If she thinks Michelle can’t handle the club I’ll let you know and help you shove her into a cab myself.” Running his hand through his short blond hair James let out a low sigh. “ The last thing you want is for Michelle to think that you see her as being unable to handle herself. If she feels like she has to prove something she’ll push herself too far, no matter the consequences.”
Wyatt thought back to the times he’d seen Michelle push herself to the breaking point while treating the wounded. For a moment sorrow hit him hard enough that tears came to his eyes as he thought about the men and women who would never have the chance to go to a wedding again, to appreciate the sight of the moon reflecting off the water, and have the opportunity to enjoy the beauty of the world.
A list of names and faces flashed through him in little memory explosions. Mikey Salazar from Encino, California. He’d had a beautiful girlfriend waiting at home for him but he’d gotten blown to bits by a direct hit from a mortar while he was on patrol. They didn’t even have a body to bury. Vince Caffries from some small town in Oregon had a mother who would write him every day, telling him about life back home. They’d been planning a parade to celebrate his return before he’d been shot in the neck and had bled out while Wyatt tried to desperately staunch the wound. The memory of that blood brought to mind pretty First Class Petty officer Tanisha Jones. She’d been found hanging from the rafters in a supply tent after she received word that her solider husband had died stopping a suicide bomber while on duty.
His heart began to race and when James touched his arm he almost hit the other man.
“Whoa,” James said as he held his hands up, his intelligent gaze searching Wyatt’s face. “You okay?”
The urge to spit phantom dust from his mouth overcame Wyatt and he swallowed hard. “Give me a second.”
He focused on one of the fountains nearby, making himself try to figure out the timing of the sprays of water. They weren’t like regular fountains that just burbled or flowed. These fountains had streams of water that would shoot through the atrium in impossibly high arcs, only to land in another fountain, then leap again. They seemed to move in arcs of seven seconds and he forced himself to follow the pattern of the leaping water.
As his gaze moved to a fountain off to his right he caught a glimpse of Michelle and Yuki walking towards them. A little bit of redness rimmed Michelle’s eyes and he wondered if she’d been crying. Her gait was as lovely and controlled as ever, but he could read the tension in her body. She needed him right now so he had to put his bullshit PTSD on the back burner.
Turning to
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