Page 49 of Cole (Dirty Misfits MC 4)
She shrugged. “Should’ve thought about that before you made me out to be nothing more than—”
I gripped her upper arms. “I have PTSD.”
She blinked. “What does that have to do with anything.”
I sighed, hoping and praying that my last-ditch effort worked. “I know you always wanted me to open up more, but I never did. I need you to know that you pressing me to open up isn’t why I walked away. I didn’t walk away because of you. I walked away because I knew it would keep you safe.”
She moved out of my grip. “Why do you have PTSD?”
Just tell her. This might be your only chance. “I lost all of them, Molly. Every single one of them. We were—we were ambushed. A-a-and—”
Opie nuzzled against my hand, but then I felt something foreign. Something so strange and so lovely that I almost cried.
Molly cupped my cheek with her soft, warm, delicate hands.
“What happened?” she asked softly.
I swallowed hard, gazing into her sparkling eyes. “We were out on patrol and we were ambushed. It happened so quickly, and I was so young in my medic career, and we were just ambushed. The route was supposed to be okay. It was supposed to check out. A-a-and it didn’t. We were ambushed, and gunned down, and—and—”
“And you lost someone, didn't you?”
I blinked back tears. “I lost all of them. All three of them. And Stokes, my best friend, he just died. Right there in my arms, you know? I kept begging him to not give up. To not leave me behind. But he just gave up and I couldn’t even be mad, you know?”
She smoothed her thumb against my cheek. “What happened after that?”
I sniffled hard. “I dragged them all to safety. I stole all of their guns and ammunition and took out every last fucker that dared to step into my line of fire. It was the longest fifteen minutes of my fucking life, and I gunned down every single one of those overrated, under-fucked cocksuckers. And then they gave me a damn medal for it.”
“Oh, Cole,” she whispered.
“I got my men killed, and they gave me a fucking medal for it.”
She cupped my other cheek as she stared intently into my watery gaze. “My father kidnapped me when I was ten.”
I paused. “Wait, what?”
She sighed as her hands slid away from my cheeks. “My father was abusive, and I watched him beat up on my mother every time she threw herself in front of me. She saved me from so much, and when she finally had the courage to walk away, I guess it was the only thing he could think to do to get back at her.”
“He—kidnapped you?”
She nodded slowly. “Yeah, he did. I was a car-rider in school, and he just pulled up and tugged me into his van.”
“Jesus, Molly. What the fuck happened after that?”
She shrugged, crossing her arms over her chest. “It’s sort of a blur. I remember kicking and screaming, a lot. I remember him pulling over and trying to tie my hands and wrists together.”
“Fucking hell,” I hissed.
“I flailed so hard while he was trying to put binds on me that I broke his nose. And when he let up on me, I jumped out of the van and ran as quickly as I could. I ran through the forests, getting swatted at my branches as I heard my father crooning for me. I waded through mud pits that came all the way up to my waist just so he wouldn’t have tracks or a scent to smell as he navigated through the woods because those were the kinds of tactics my mother had to teach me growing up. Tactics to survive, not thrive.”
It was my turn to cup her cheek, so I did. “You’re magnificent, you know that?”
She cleared her throat. “My point is, I have PTSD as well. Sometimes, something as simple as a smell will trigger such a harsh memory that I can’t breathe. And you can forget sleeping at night. I just take cat naps whenever I can. And my point with all of this is that we have so much more in common than you could ever imagine, and if you—”
I finished her statement, because I knew where she was going. “If I had stuck around long enough, I would have realized how perfect we are together.”
She sighed. “Yeah. That.”
I smoothed my thumb against her soft cheek. “I’m so sorry, Molly. I’m sorry I ever felt I had to leave you in order to protect you. I’m sorry that I used my bullshit and my life as an excuse not to pursue things with the most perfect woman I’d ever come across. I’m sorry that I let my fear get in the way of us, but if you give me another chance—just one last chance—I promise never to make a fool out of you again.”
