giving him a dirty look. "Hey," he said, defending himself, "the curmudgeon scared the shit out of me when I was their age. It could work."
"It's not about my boys," she said. "It's about this new plan of yours to go overseas. This is about Gage's offer, I presume? You're taking him up on it after all, and that's why you had the falling-out with Jane."
"We haven't had a falling-out." There'd almost been a knockout, and the thought of it still sickened him - and only confirmed how necessary it was for him to get away from her.
Suddenly that memory was front and center. Even the chatter between Tess and Monroe couldn't prevent what was recurring in blazing Technicolor in his head. In one quick breath, it stopped being something he recalled and became something he was reliving.
He's on the deck at Captain Crow's. Rage is a ball of fire in his belly. Ian Stone is a smug prick who thinks he's going to get Jane back into his life and back into his bed. Griffin doesn't want to allow him to have another chance to chip away at her confidence. Jane might seem to stand ten feet tall, but a lot of that is wedge heel and ribbon bows. She should be with a man who cherishes her, who will nurture her can-do attitude and spoil her on the days when she's feeling blue.
Ian Stone is not that man. And as Griffin waits for the jerk to get back up and come at him, his fists clench tighter.
Then there's that quick touch. He spins, his arm cocking back.
Jane's sweet face. Her little jerk of fear. The thudding crash his heart makes when it falls to the pit of his belly.
He came back to the present and realized that Tess was gone and he was alone in the hospital room with his neighbor. Surprised, he looked around him. "I..."
"She had to get back home to her husband and family. You answered when she said goodbye, but I didn't think you were all here." Rex waited a beat, then asked a casual question. "Flashback?"
Griffin stared at the old man.
"You think PTSD is new? We called it something different, but..."
"I don't have that." Griffin paced to look out the window. It was nearing dark. "I wasn't at war. I was reporting on war."
"In my time, I talked to a lot of soldiers and I talked to a lot of other combat journalists. Believe me, Griffin, we're all affected by the things we've seen. I've told you before, you need to describe how that changed you."
"I put it away. It's better to keep it distant." And he'd managed that fairly well until Jane insisted he look at the photos and write the words.
He's on the deck at Captain Crow's, and then he isn't. Instead he's in the Humvee, his ears ringing and Jackal's leg...he can feel it right now in his hands, the weight of it, the bloody warmth....
"Sit down, son," Rex said, his voice sharp. "Griffin, sit down."
The vinyl cushion wasn't soft, but at least the chair supported his weight. He rested his elbows on his knees and put his head in his hands. "I'll leave in a minute," he mumbled. "I have packing to do."
"There's no place far enough away," the old man said. "No place you can go that those memories won't find you."
"I feel like I'm going crazy," he heard himself mutter.
"Finish the memoir," Rex urged. "Stay stateside and finish before thinking of traveling again."
"I don't care about the book."
The coot sighed. "Do I have to remind you that a life unexamined is a life not worth living?"
"What?" Griffin said. "Did you read that on the bottom of a bubble-gum wrapper?"
"Socrates, which I'm sure you know." The old man was silent a moment, then his voice turned softer, kinder. "Son, you need to deal with your experience. When you put down the ugly memories on the page, you defuse them of their power."
"Rex - "
"Put them down like you would put Private down if he was sick and he was hurting. Out of kindness, Griffin. Out of love."
Before he could spit out some pithy and clever retort like "Fuck you," which was the first that came to mind, a nurse arrived and shooed Griffin away. A doctor was coming in for late rounds. Griffin was damn glad to walk away from the crabby codger and his amateur psychoanalysis.
The fact that the guy was ninety-four years old didn't mean he