16. Wyatt

I really, really hoped the drive to Thanksgiving didn’t set the tone for the whole day.

It was about twenty-five minutes from Anthony’s front door to their teammate’s house in Bothell. Anthony drove. Simon stewed in the passenger seat. I rode in the back with Lily.

No onespoke. No one.

And when I say it was twenty-five of the longest, quietest, and least comfortable minutes of my life, that was taking into consideration flights in and out of warzones. That cold, unnerving descent into Kandahar with my fellow soldiers in the belly of a C-17 had nothing on the tense ride through affluent suburbia with these recent exes. Instead of the deafening roar of engine noise drowning out any attempts at conversation, it was the soft hum of a luxury vehicle and a silence that made my ears ring harder than my occasional tinnitus.

Beside me, Lily shifted. She pushed her head under my hand, and I petted her, quietly murmuring that everything was okay. No surprise she’d picked up on my agitation; though none of my triggers were related to exes stuck together in a confined space, the palpable tension wasn’t good for my anxiety.

I studied Anthony, whose gaze was fixed on the road. He wasn’t white-knuckling the steering wheel, so that was a plus. My gut told me that if Simon had been driving, he’d have been channeling his frustration into speeding, slamming on the brakes, and whipping around corners. Been there, dated that.

No wonder Anthony was relieved they were over.

That was none of my business, though, and I’d have to be in the same space as Simon today, so I just kept my mouth shut, petted my dog, and gazed out the window.

Mercifully, the ride wasn’t actually as long as that flight into Kandahar, and I almost muttered, “Oh, thank fuck,” when Anthony pulled into a long driveway lined with other luxury cars. I didn’t think I’d ever been more relieved to get out of a vehicle that hadn’t taken enemy fire.

Anthony and Simon had apparently agreed to bring soda, and they’d loaded up the back of the Land Rover with about a dozen cases.

“We don’t need to bring it all in now,” Anthony said, the first words spoken since we’d left. “It’ll stay cold out here.”

Simon and I both grunted our agreement, and we each grabbed a couple of cases before heading up the driveway.

This house wasn’t as big or opulent as theirs, but it was definitely big and opulent. An enormous brick fa?ade with white trim. A four-car garage that almost seemed too small for the rest of the house. A front porch that could’ve comfortably sat a dozen people with room to spare.

The yard was huge and flawless, too. A rolling lawn that probably took hours to mow. Perfectly manicured landscaping all along the driveway and the front of the house. Huge evergreens towering over the roof from the backyard.

I met our hosts as we came in and took off our shoes. After we’d put down the soda cases in the kitchen, Russell, one of the hosts, gestured at Lily. “Does your dog need anything? A water bowl or food dish?”

“Oh, um. I brought her a water bowl, if you don’t mind me filling it up?” I unclipped the portable dish from the side of her harness.

“I don’t mind at all. Come with me.” He showed me into the kitchen, and we found a spot where I could put her water down and it wouldn’t be disturbed. Lily took a quick drink, and then we headed back in to join everyone else.

I was immediately swept into the center of a whirlwind of introductions. There was no way in hell I was keeping everyone’s names straight, though I’d sure try.

I was on guard when I realized how many kids were here. I liked kids, but they didn’t always understand how service dogs worked. I mean, neither did adults, but kids could be a bit more forward with dogs, yelling or shoving their hands in the dog’s face.

To my surprise, though, while a few of the kids definitely noticed Lily, they all kept a respectful distance.

When a particularly young child—maybe two or three? I couldn’t tell—called out, “Doggy!” and started toddling toward Lily, her dad quickly swept her up.

“You can look at the doggy,” he told her. “But see her clothes? She’s busy. She can’t play right now.”

The child scowled as only little kids could do, in that angry and intense way that meant the universe had displeased them.

“Why don’t you head downstairs.” The dad put the kid down and gently nudged her toward the basement stairs. “They’re putting on a movie!” That was enough to redirect her attention, and she left with her father on her heels.

Her mom looked at me and smiled apologetically. “I’m sorry. She loves dogs.”

“Oh, it’s okay.” I returned the smile. “I do, too, so I get it. And, um—I appreciate it.”

“Any time.”

She left to help corral the kids downstairs, and I met Anthony’s gaze. “I didn’t realize everyone here was so conscientious about service dogs.”

He sipped his soda and chuckled. “That’s probably the one silver lining of the spouse who brought that badly trained ‘support dog’ to everything. She sent out emails and loudly lectured everyone about not distracting her dog, not petting him, keeping their kids away from him…” Sighing, he rolled his eyes. “It was totally an attention grab in her case, but the stuff about letting the dog work stuck.”

“Should I send her a thank-you note?” I asked dryly.

He snorted. “I dare you. Anyway, come on—I’ll introduce you to everyone else.”

Oh, fuck. There were more people?

There were, and that didn’t even take into account those who were still arriving. A lot of their teammates had traveled home for Thanksgiving, but there were still quite a few in town, not to mention members of the staff. Add in the partners and kids, and Russell had a full house.

Fortunately, Anthony had been right that we wouldn’t all be crowded into one place. There was an enormous table set up in the dining room and another in the family room, plus a kids’ table, so we’d be split up during dinner. In the meantime, people spread out into the various rooms of the house to watch football, socialize, snack, and entertain the kids.

We eventually drifted apart as we fell into conversations with different people. I lost sight of Anthony, but I wasn’t worried. I’d also lost sight of Simon, which was fine by me. In fact, I was pretty sure the two of them had gone into the garage with some of their teammates to shoot pucks. They were still trying to present the illusion of a united front, so Anthony was sticking close to Simon. As much as I would’ve liked to stay close to Anthony as well, I was more than happy to chill in here with a few other people and stay the hell away from Simon.

But hanging out here in the living room turned out to be less than ideal, too, because I quickly learned two things:

First, the garage shared a wall with the living room, and that wall was the one pucks slammed into when they missed whatever they’d been aimed at—a net, I assumed.

Second, a puck striking a wall or something metal hit just the right note to rouse some of my demons.

The voices through the wall didn’t help, either. It was probably cheering and shit-talking, but with just enough distance and drywall between us to muffle the actual words, it was hard to distinguish exuberance from anger. And unseen, angry voices punctuated by sudden, sharp noises…

As subtly as I could, I took some slow, deep breaths. Pucks hitting the wall didn’t actually sound like bullets or bombs, but the sudden loud, sharp bangs still tickled those mental tripwires I spent my life tiptoeing over. Same with the voices—a small group of trash-talking hockey players didn’t actually sound like angry insurgents, but combined with the puck noises, it fucked with my senses.

Lily nudged my leg. Then she jumped up and pawed at my shirt as she nudged my hand with her head, almost costing me my drink.

One of the wives made a face. “I thought service dogs were supposed to be well-behaved.”

“She is.” I gestured for Lily to get down, and I nodded toward the sliding glass door. “She’s letting me know she needs to go out.”

I didn’t wait for a response, though I heard some snide commentary as I left the living room and crossed the kitchen. Whatever. In that moment, I preferred to let them think my service dog was misbehaving or asking to do her business than reveal she was alerting on a PTSD response. What would they think if they knew a damn hockey puck hitting a wall and their husbands laughing about it could send me into a mental spiral?

As soon as we were outside, I took in a deep gulp of cold air, which settled some of my anxiety. The day was cool, but it was pleasant, and the light chill was enough to anchor me in the present.

I sat on a bench on the back deck and just breathed. Lily jumped up, front paws on my lap, and leaned hard against my chest. Closing my eyes, I wrapped an arm around her, and little by little, my heartrate came back down.

This was a mistake. I should’ve stayed at Anthony’s place and chilled with Lily and the cats.

But… no. I just wasn’t used to social events anymore. I wasn’t used to being around people, especially people I didn’t know. Combine that with loud, unfamiliar noises, and… Well, I couldn’t say I was surprised.

And I’d be fine when I went back inside. Now that I knew to expect the sounds, they shouldn’t trigger anything. All I had to do was spend a few minutes out here, getting some quiet and some fresh air. Then I’d be perfectly fine.

Maybe I should go into the garage with them. Maybe if I can see what they’re doing and hear what they’re saying, my brain will calm itself down.

It was worth a try.

In a minute, though. I wanted to make sure I’d fully pulled myself together before I ventured back in among Anthony’s teammates. He’d been gracious as hell, inviting me along in the first place. The last thing I needed to do was embarrass him by—

The sliding glass door opened, and I shot to my feet. Lily immediately scooted closer, fully focused on me.

“It’s okay,” I told her, and petted her as I turned around.

I hadn’t expected the person joining me to be a threat. Worst-case scenario would be Simon, who’d just be a prickly douche. But I had a number of synapses still programmed for combat and homeless life, and it was impossible to convince my demons that any situation was completely safe.

It was not, of course, anyone threatening. It wasn’t Simon. It wasn’t even Anthony.

A tall blonde woman stepped out onto the deck, holding my gaze shyly. “Um. Hi.” She closed the door behind her but leaned against it, and she flicked her eyes warily toward Lily. “You’re—I didn’t catch your name.”

I swallowed. “Wyatt.”

“Right. Right. Wyatt. I’m Monica. Young’s wife.” Her gaze again darted to Lily before locking on mine. “You came with Aussie and Cars, right?”

“Uh…” It took a second, but then I remembered Anthony’s nickname. The other must’ve been Simon’s. “Yeah. Yeah, I—sorry.” I laughed nervously, stroking Lily’s neck. “I just know them by their first names.”

She gave a soft laugh as she crept a little closer, gaze fixed on Lily even as she spoke to me. “You get used to the nicknames. After a while, you almost forget their real names.”

“Kind of sounds like the military. If some of my buddies didn’t have their name tapes on their uniforms, I wouldn’t have known what the f—what their names were.”

Monica laughed again. “Okay, so you get it.” She watched Lily for a moment, wringing her hands in front of her. “Listen, I’m…” She glanced over her shoulder. “I’m not going to ask to pet your dog. I know it’s… With service dogs… I get it.” She chewed her lip. “But would you mind if I just… sat out here with you two?”

I studied her. “Uh. Sure? I guess?”

She nodded and tentatively came a little closer. She took one of the chairs from the table, brushed pine needles off the seat, and sat down, folding her hands in her lap. Speaking so softly I barely heard her, she admitted, “I’m terrified of dogs.”

I blinked. “Oh. Really?”

“Yeah.” She watched Lily warily. “I thought… Maybe if I just sat with one who’s, you know, busy…” She trailed off as more color rose in her cheeks. “I’m sorry. That probably sounds stupid.”

“No, it’s okay.” I petted Lily’s neck. “If you don’t mind my asking, did you have a bad experience with a dog?”

She nodded, laughing self-consciously. “My grandparents’ dog when I was growing up. He was really aggressive and loud.” She chafed her arms. “Scared the hell out of me.”

I winced. “That’ll do it.”

“Yeah. And almost all the guys have dogs, so whenever we come to things like this…” She gestured toward the house and scowled. “They’re all super sweet about penning up their dogs when I come over, but I hate doing that to them, you know? I know they’re part of the family.” She chafed her arms again. “They just scare me, and I really, really want to get over that.”

“Okay. Well, she’s about as mellow as they come.”

“That’s a job requirement, isn’t it?”

I nodded. “It is. She has to be able to focus on me and react when I need her to.”

Monica’s eyes flicked up to me. “If, um… If you don’t mind my asking…”

“What’s her job?”

She nodded shyly. “I… don’t want to be intrusive. It’s just kind of fascinating, the things service dogs can do. But you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

“It’s all right. She’s a PTSD dog.”

Monica sat up a little. “Oh.”

“It’s… I did a few combat tours. So she helps when I have panic attacks or night terrors.”

She shifted her gaze back to Lily, who was resting her head on my leg. “And that—it makes a difference? It helps you?”

“Like nothing else.” I patted Lily’s back, which got her long tail wagging. “There was a learning curve to working with her, but once we found our groove, it was like night and day.”

“Wow,” Monica murmured. We were both silent for a moment. She was still uneasy, but she’d relaxed a little since she’d come outside. Though she was watching Lily, her expression and body language were starting to tilt toward curiosity.

Cautiously, I offered, “Would it help if you could pet her?”

She bit her lip. “Maybe? I don’t know. But I don’t want to interrupt her when she’s working.”

“I can take off her vest. She knows she’s off-duty if I do.”

Monica raised her eyebrows. “You can do that?”

I nodded. “I don’t usually do it when we’re out and about, but a few minutes is fine.” Yeah, I wasn’t going to be in the running for Service Dog Handler of the Year, and Lily’s trainer would probably have words with me about some of the things I did. Hopefully even she could understand the pros and cons of this situation. To Monica, I said, “It’s up to you.”

She shifted a little, pushing her shoulders back as if she were steeling herself. “Is it true they can sense fear?”

“They can,” I acknowledged. “But she’s not aggressive. The ‘worst’ thing I can imagine her doing is alerting on you like she does on me.”

Monica turned wide eyes on me. “How does she do that?”

“She’ll nudge my hand or lean on my leg. If I’m really wound up, she’ll put her paws in my lap and lean against my chest.”

Monica squirmed. “I think that would make me more scared.”

“Because a dog jumping on you is a trigger. For me, it pulls my focus away from my trigger, and when she leans on me, it’s…” I pursed my lips. “I can’t remember how the trainer explained it, but the pressure of her body and her paws is soothing in a primal way.”

“So… like when a cat climbs on your chest and kneads?”

“Probably? I’ve never had a cat.” I chuckled, nodding toward the house. “I think if one of Anthony—Aussie’s cats ever climbed on my chest, I’d suffocate.”

A laugh burst out of her, which seemed to relax her minutely. “They’re pretty big.”

“Right?” I ran my thumb down one of Lily’s long ears. “So that’s the only thing she might do if she senses fear or anxiety. But she’s also trained to zero in on me. I’ve seen other people get agitated or upset when she’s around, and she completely ignores them. That’s probably what she’ll do with you, too.” I nodded down at her. “Notice how she hasn’t alerted on you this whole time.”

“Oh.” Monica wrung her hands in her lap. “That’s… That’s true.” She watched Lily for a moment, then quietly said, “I’d… like to try petting her? Will it upset her if I jump?”

“Nah. She’s used to me having flashbacks and nightmares. You’ll be fine.” I unbuckled the service dog vest and slipped it off. “Lily, stand down.”

She shook herself, then looked up at me, panting happily and wagging her tail.

“Good girl.” I tousled her ears. To Monica, I said, “Just let her come to you. Don’t reach for her or anything—let her sniff you, and she’ll let you know when she wants you to pet her.”

Monica stiffened. “Don’t reach for her? I thought I was supposed to let them sniff my fingers.”

I shook my head. “No, it’s kind of like shoving your hand in a person’s face. It makes them tense. She’ll let you know.” I smiled. “Trust me, you’ll know when she wants to be petted, and she definitely will.”

Monica nodded.

I gave Lily’s leash some slack. She looked around, taking in her environment like she often did when she was off duty and could pull her focus away from me. She was always in tune to me, and if I needed her, she’d be right back at my side even when she wasn’t on duty, but without her vest and with the stand-down command, she could just be a dog for a few minutes.

For a moment, she checked out our surroundings—happily sniffing the ground, a couple of flowerpots, and a rock. In no time, though, she zeroed in on Monica. Ears and tail up, she approached. She sniffed Monica’s shoe, then her knee, then looked up at her and started panting, wagging her tail even more. She sat down and put up her paw.

Monica tensed a little. “Does that… Can I…?”

“Go ahead.” I smiled. “Pet her neck and shoulder. And she might jump up, but if she does, she’s just being really friendly.”

Lily was way too well-trained for that. Despite what everyone in the house thought they’d seen, she never jumped up unless she was alerting. But she was still an animal, and it never hurt to give someone a heads up. Especially someone who was this afraid of dogs.

Monica tentatively reached for Lily’s neck. As soon as she started petting her, Lily leaned against her leg, tail thumping hard on the deck. Monica glanced uncertainly at me. Right then, Lily slurped her hand. Monica jumped, but she laughed and wiped her hand on her jeans. “She really is a sweetheart, isn’t she?”

“She’s amazing.” I almost started rambling about what a lifesaver Lily had been. How she’d come into my world when it was incredibly dark, and when everything had turned a whole lot darker, she’d often been the only thing to keep me going. There’d been more than a few periods where the only thing stopping me from slipping into complete nihilism had been the drive to take care of her.

But I kept all of that to myself. I didn’t want to trauma dump on this total stranger, especially not when she was trying to overcome a deep-seated fear. Monica had clearly had to psych herself up for this, and she was making a hell of a breakthrough. The last thing she needed was me to ruin it by awkwardly spilling my life story.

So I just watched the two of them interact, and I quietly let the moment be.