He shook his head. “I did the mandatory psych eval, but no. I was fine in their eyes, so I didn’t need to.”

I couldn’t help but wonder how much more was buried under his surface, left lurking like some forgotten powder keg just waiting to ignite with the right flame. Hell, Josh’s whole world was in flames.

Except me.

“I think you should talk to someone,” I said quietly.

He shook his head. “If this is about me talking to Paisley…”

“It’s not,” I promised. “That’s a whole different can of worms, and until you’re ready to open it, I’ll try to be respectful. While we’re on that subject, I’m sorry for the way I reacted in New York. That was a lot of shock, and more than a ridiculous level of jealousy. What’s going on in your head is your business, and I don’t have a right to pry. If talking to Paisley, or Jagger, or the random guy at the gym makes you feel better, then you should take advantage of it. I only want what’s best for you.”

He cupped my face with both hands, the fiberglass of his cast rough against my cheek. “You are what’s best for me.” He looked away with pursed lips.

“You have your ‘but’ face on.”

A small smile quirked his lips. “Butt-face, huh?”

“You know what I meant. But, what?”

He looked me over like it was the last time he might see me, his eyes wide and vulnerable with a fear I hadn’t seen since we’d broken up in Colorado.

“Josh, you’re scaring me.”

His face fell, and a soft smile graced his lips. “No. No, don’t be. It’s just that you’re the best thing for me. You’re my fucking sanity, the only solace I have, but right now, I know I’m the worst possible thing for you, December. You should run, not walk, the hell away from me. At least for now.”

“No,” I said, pressing my lips to his clammy forehead. “Never. There’s nothing you could do or say that would make me walk away from you, Joshua Walker. Not now, not ever.” I leaned back so I could see the little flecks of gold in his brown eyes. “Once upon a time you promised to be my whatever. Do you remember that?”

“I could never forget.”

“Then remember this. I’ll be your whatever. Whatever you need, whenever you need it. I’m strong enough to pull us both through this.”

“You shouldn’t have to be. You shouldn’t have to bury your friends, and deal with my nightmares, and get pulled to the ground. This wasn’t what you signed up for.”

I lifted my left hand. “I signed up for you, and everything that comes with you.” Reaching onto the counter, I grabbed his cell phone and handed it to him. “But it would sure as hell be a lot easier if you would set an appointment to talk to someone.”

He took the phone but didn’t dial. “They’ll take my wings if I go to a shrink.”

A defeated breath escaped my lips. “Okay, then at least schedule your eval. It’s supposed to be this week, right? So we’ll be clear for leave next week?”

He nodded and started to dial.

It wasn’t what he needed, but it was a start…and I’d take it.

Chapter Twenty-Three

JOSH

“I’m not laying down,” I said to the psychologist, Major Henderson, as I shut the door behind me.

“I don’t think I asked you to, but that’s good to know,” he said, looking over his glasses at my file. “I like knowing where we stand, or sit, rather.” He motioned to the armchair across from his, and I took it. “Lieutenant Walker, I presume?”

“Yes, sir.” We both leaned in to shake hands.

“You all look so much younger in civies,” he said, motioning to my cargo shorts and polo shirt.

“I’m on convalescent leave, sir.”

“I figured as much. No judgment, just an observation.”

I leaned back in the chair and stopped before I crossed my right ankle over my left thigh. The staples were out, but that wound was still angry and pink. “Will there be a lot of those here? Observations?”

“Depends on what you want to tell me. Did you bring the questionnaire?”

“Yes, sir.” I pulled the four-page questionnaire from the manila folder I’d brought and handed it to him.

“What will it tell me, Lieutenant?”

“If you’re going to evaluate my mental status, you may as well call me Josh.”

He nodded with a small smile. “Very well, Josh.”

I took a deep breath and settled in. I owed it to Ember to be as truthful as possible, but I knew this system well. There was zero chance I would voluntarily say anything that would end up pulling my wings. No chance in hell.

“Sir, the questionnaire will tell you that this was my second deployment. I was wounded both times, because I guess I’m either the luckiest or unluckiest bastard in the world, depending on how you view it.”

“Noted. Continue.”

“It will tell you that almost a month ago, I was involved in a helicopter crash that killed my copilot, whom I was very fond of, and then I watched a very close friend die protecting me, all in the name of saving my best friend, who was the pilot of the other downed aircraft.”

“That must have been extremely rough on you.”

“Yes, sir, it was.”

He flipped through my questionnaire, scanning the pages. “How would you classify your mental health?”