“I—” He shrugged, taking a second to gather his thoughts because an intense pain in his head cut off his train of thought. “I don’t need any credit.”
“Good.” Cooper hesitated, running his hand through his light brown hair. “How have you been since starting here? Adjusting okay to civilian life?”
Holt glanced up. Hell no. “Uh…”
“I know your story. It’s the story we all have.” Cooper shrugged. “But yours is a little worse. I know it’s been tough for you to adjust to the changes you’ve been forced to accept.”
What all did he know? Holt certainly hadn’t told him shit. “My struggles are no different than anyone else’s.”
“Yeah, that’s true, I guess.” Cooper eyed Holt. “I saw on your physical report that you were having a few symptoms from the IED attack. Do you still suffer from headaches? Or episodes where you can’t think properly?”
Like being unable to form a quick-witted reply? Like being able to sleep, or feel normal? Like never forgetting what it was like to shoot his squad leader in the head, after he’d begged him to put him out of his misery? Of course he still had issues with all of that shit, but if he admitted it…Cooper would sack him. He would have to.
More than ever, he missed that life he’d once had before that horrible night in the fucking desert. Missed the guy he used to be. Missed being normal. But you felt normal with Lydia, and you slept, too, an inner voice whispered. You could have it, with her.
“Holt?” Cooper asked, his brows lowered. “You in there?”
How long had he been lost in thought?
He cleared his throat. “Uh, yeah, sorry. It’s been a tough road, but I’m fine. I don’t have any episodes any more. The headaches are gone, too. Thanks for giving me the job. I know there had to have been more qualified applicants.”
Ones who could still function fully. One who didn’t have a fucked up brain that couldn’t form coherent thoughts half the time. Who didn’t deserve to be fired for lying through his teeth to his boss. But Holt didn’t have a choice.
What boss in their right mind would keep a guy who suffered from migraines so severe he couldn’t function at a hundred percent for a whole week?
“I only hire the best,” Cooper said, not dropping his stare. “I hired you because you were the man for the job. End of story.”
Holt swallowed hard. He didn’t feel like the best man for anything. Not even for himself, and certainly not for Lydia. “Thanks.”
“Sure.” Cooper inclined his head toward the file. “Let me know when it’s done, okay?”
“Absolutely.”
The door closed behind Cooper, and Holt leaned back in his chair, his fingers linked in front of his stomach. He liked his boss. In fact, he liked all the people he worked with. They were all fighters, like him, with various amounts of damage. Both inside and out. Of course, when he was with them, he felt like even more of a fuck up.
At least they didn’t stumble over words, or stay up all night staring at the unmoving ceiling fan because when it was on, they had episodes. Flashbacks of helicopters, and bombs, and blood. So much fucking blood. It felt like no matter how many times he showered, he’d never wash it all away.
Hell, Cooper was engaged and happy as hell. Jake was in love with a woman who hated him, but at least he’d been strong enough to fall in love in the first place. And Gordon was together enough to get a fucking princess to fall in love with him. They just needed a little push to get them back together, and it was Holt’s job to give it to them.
Again, Lydia’s laugh crossed his mind, taunting him with its clarity. With its perfection. After he’d left her high and dry the other night, he’d had nothing but his hand and his memories of her to keep him company. And that’s all he’d had since, too. After easing the need a little bit, he’d felt as if he had a good hold on what to do next.
His best friend was her brother, so he obviously couldn’t avoid her forever—even though he’d done a pretty good job of it up until now. On top of that, he liked her. He didn’t want to avoid her. So at two in the morning he’d come up with the brilliant idea to be her friend. Her fucking friend.
Shit, he’d have better luck flying with bird wings than remaining her friend.
He’d sworn to himself he wouldn’t touch her again, and he’d lasted, what, ten minutes? They hadn’t even made it inside the building before he’d been on her, his hand between her legs and his tongue in her mouth.
But he was going to be her friend now? Dumbass.