Out of Mind Read online

  Sometimes love isn't enough...

  Out of Mind

  Jen McLaughlin

  Reaching for sunlight...

  Finn survived the ambush and came home to me, but in his head, the battle is still raging. He’s falling apart and I’m trying my best to pick up the pieces of him, to find the us we used to be. I love him as much as I ever did, but love isn’t enough to fix this. I thought telling my father about our relationship would be the hardest thing we’d ever have to face. I was wrong.

  Lost in shadows...

  All I wanted was to be worthy of Carrie. One mission, just one, and I’d be able to give her the future she deserved. Then everything went wrong, leaving me tainted and broken. Carrie wants me to be who I was, but all that’s left is what they made of me. I’m no good for her. No good for anyone like this. I have to figure out how to move forward. Alone.

  Sometimes love isn’t enough…

  Other Books by Jen McLaughlin

  Out of Line Series

  Out of Line

  Out of Time

  Out of Mind

  Between Us

  Written as Diane Alberts:

  Take a Chance Series

  Try Me (Take a Chance #1)

  Love Me (Take a Chance #2)

  Play Me (Take a Chance #3)

  Take Me (Take a Chance #4)

  Faking It

  Divinely Ruined

  On One Condition

  Broken

  Kiss Me At Midnight

  Kill Me Tomorrow

  Temporarily Yours

  Reclaimed

  Superstars in Love Series

  Captivated by You

  One Night

  This one goes out to all the men like Finn who fight, come home, and struggle to fit in with everyday life. Especially my friend Tim, who we all still miss dearly.

  “Don’t let me die…Please don’t let me die…”

  Explosions boomed in my ears, shooting me upright into a sitting position in bed, gasping for air and crying out into the empty bedroom. Gunshots still echoed in my head, along with the gurgling of Dotter’s blood as it poured out of his body until there was nothing left. I looked down at my hands, half expecting to find them bloody. They weren’t. But metaphorically? That was a whole other fucking story.

  Trembling, I rose to my feet, my broken arm casted and hanging uselessly in a sling. My body was coated in a light sheen of sweat, and even my sheets were dampened and dark. Blinking at the sunlight that crept through the closed curtains, I tried to remind myself where I was. I wasn’t fighting for my life. Wasn’t watching people die. I was safe.

  As safe as I was going to be, anyway.

  Pushing the curtains back, I squinted outside. After spending a couple of weeks in a hospital in Germany, followed by another couple of weeks in a hospital in D.C., it was nice to be in a home. But instead of the sandy beaches and hot weather of California, I saw a foot of snow reflecting the sun, blinding me. And we were supposed to get even more tomorrow night. Fucking ridiculous. I studied the position of the sun in the winter sky. Damn, what time was it now? Last thing I remembered, I took a few pills and zonked out. It had been…morning? Maybe? Now, judging from the sunlight streaming through clouds, it was mid-afternoon.

  I’d missed a whole day.

  Sure. I could act shocked about this, but that happened more often than not lately. I slept away the day, high on painkillers and drunk from whiskey. When I woke up, I swore I wouldn’t touch another drink. I’d last an hour or two.

  Then I’d do it all over again.

  I ran my hand over my shaved head, wincing at how rough it felt. I’d been back in the good old USA for a couple of days now. I still felt like I was trapped in the fucking desert. Instead, I was in the winter wonderland from hell. Carrie’s parents’ house.

  A knock sounded on the door, and I dropped the curtain. I glanced down at myself. I had on a muscle tank and a pair of black basketball shorts. Decent enough, I supposed. “Come in.”

  The door cracked, and the red hair I’d recognize anywhere appeared before the face I needed so damn much did. “You’re up?”

  “Yeah.” I tugged on my tank and crossed the room. “You can come in.”

  Carrie entered, shutting the door behind her. She hesitated, looking torn. Her blue eyes were sober and crystal clear, while I was a fucking drunken wreck. I’d been snapping at her lately. Pushing her away. I hated myself for it, yet I couldn’t seem to fucking stop.

  “Did you sleep good? I thought I heard you cry out.”

  I fingered the puckered wound on my head. It was still sensitive to the touch and ugly as fuck. Not as ugly as the rest of my scars. Inside and out. “I had another nightmare. Same old thing.”

  She approached me slowly. “Anything I can do to help?”

  “Yeah.” I met her eyes. “You can come hug me.”

  She gave me a smile. “Anytime.”

  Within seconds, she was in my arms. Well, my arm. I glowered down at my broken arm, knowing it was as marked up as my head. You just couldn’t see it right now. I closed my arm around her, burying my face in her neck. “Fuck. I missed you.”

  She tilted her face up to mine. “I missed you, too.”

  “You should start sneaking in here to see me at night.” I dropped a kiss on her forehead. “Then I can at least hold you for a little bit before I fall asleep.”

  She did sneak into my room every single night, but we never acknowledged her visits. It was our unspoken agreement. Without fail, I would have a nightmare every night. Also without fail, she would come in and comfort me until I fell back asleep. Then, in the morning, we pretended it never happened. I could tell she wanted to talk about it, but she kept silent.

  She just gave, without asking for anything in return.

  She was too good for me.

  “I’ll try tonight,” she agreed, stretching up on tiptoes to press her mouth to mine.

  I tensed and pulled away. I couldn’t…she couldn’t really want me right now. Not when I looked and felt like this. She stepped back, the disappointment in her eyes way too fucking clear. “I’m going out to refill your prescription. Want to come with me?”

  I’d love to, but I couldn’t. I wasn’t ready for the world to see me yet. “Nah. I’ll stay here.”

  “O-Okay.” She watched me, her brow furrowed. “Did you see the sun is shining?”

  My heart wrenched. We used to say that, back when I’d been overseas. It had been our code for “I love you.” Back when we’d been a secret. Back before her father found out about us. Before he’d threatened me if I ever hurt his baby girl.

  I didn’t want to hurt her, and yet I was.

  I needed to start acting happy better. I pasted a big grin on my face. I felt like a fucking clown. “I did. It’s so bright.”

  She nodded, perking up a bit. “Are you sure you don’t want to go out with me? It could be fun. Maybe we could go out to dinner? Have a little date.”

  I started to waver. A date sounded fucking fabulous. It had been so long since I felt normal. Since I felt human. We hadn’t had any alone time together, unless you counted stolen moments like this one, and it had been way too long since we acted like a couple at all. I was a fucking mess, and I knew it.

  Could I pretend not to be, for her? I could try. “Well…”

  I looked over at the nightstand. The mirror over the top of it showed us in perfect profile. She watched me with a hopeful look in her eyes. All red curls, gorgeous skin, and bright blue eyes. She was flawless. And then there was me…Beauty and the Beast.

  The wound on my head ran a thin line across my skull, extending down past my eyebrow. My shaven head was patchy at best, due to some lovely hospital clippers that had been used on me. I was told my hair would g
row back in eventually, but I was supposed to go out with her like this? I could picture the looks now.

  The disgust. The pity.

  No. I wasn’t ready.

  “We could go Christmas shopping, too,” she said, her voice excited. “It’s only six days away, and I know you didn’t get anything for your dad. I still need to shop for mine, too.” She grabbed my hand, squeezing it. “We could have fun, like old times.”

  “I’m sorry, but I can’t,” I said. “My head…” is fine. “Hurts.”

  “Oh.” The smile slipped, but she forced it back into place. She was better at acting happy than I was. “Okay.”

  “Can you open my pills for me?” I sat down on the edge of the bed. “Maybe get me a drink, too?”

  “It’s a little early for another pill. You need to wait another hour. And you know you’re not supposed to mix booze and painkillers.” She looked at me, pressed her lips together, and set my unopened pills on the table. “But I’ll grab you some water if you’re thirsty.”

  “Not what I meant, but thanks.”

  She nodded, grabbed a water bottle, opened it, and handed it over. “You’re almost out of pills already. You took too many. I think there should be more.”

  “I dropped one,” I said, averting my eyes. “It rolled away, and I couldn’t find it.”

  “What way did it go?” she asked, dropping to all fours. “I’ll find it.”

  “I don’t know. It was dark.”

  She looked up at me, not saying anything. She didn’t believe me. Good. I wouldn’t believe me either. I watched her, daring her to argue. To stop treating me as if I might break. She shook her head slightly, stood up, and brushed her hands on her perfect thighs. “Okay, I won’t look then.”

  I frowned and glanced away. “Hey. Have fun shopping.”

  “Yeah. Thanks.” She kissed my bald head, hovering awkwardly. “I love you.”

  I cringed. She trailed her fingers over my naked scalp. She used to love my hair. Now I didn’t have any. “I love you, too.”

  Once she left, I grabbed the bottle of meds off my nightstand. Another hour, my ass. I’d find a way to open this bottle even if it killed me. After a brief struggle, I managed to pop the lid off on my own. After a while of sitting there in silence, the pill hit me, making the world spin around me. Everything faded away but the blissful silence.

  It was the only time I felt like myself anymore.

  It had been four months and twenty-three days since I met Finn. He’d told me he was a surfer who didn’t have any aspirations above being a Marine, but he’d really been my father’s spy. It had been two and a half months since he told me he loved me. I’d told him I loved him, too, and we’d sworn never to lie to each other again. And it had been a month and two days since he got injured, and I thought my world would end. Three days since we came home, and he shut me out of his life. I didn’t know how to get back in.

  The days kept swirling around my head, over and over again. I guess in a way, I was trying to reassure myself of something. I mean, he was home. And he was getting better. He was trying, anyway. He’d get better. But my world still felt like it was ending. It still wasn’t right.

  Finn wasn’t really Finn anymore.

  So instead of going inside my parents’ house, I sat in Dad’s car for a while, staring up the driveway at the way-too-large-for-normal-humans house I’d grown up in. Part of me wished we’d gone straight to California, instead of back to D.C. like Dad wanted. But Finn’s dad was here, and it was winter break, so here we were. Dad let Finn stay at the house, despite his frequent disapproving frowns and his long, lingering looks. But Finn was alive. And he was with me. That’s all that mattered, right?

  I sighed and slid out of Dad’s car, waving at the security dude who got out of his car. He’d wanted to ride with me, but I’d wanted to be alone, so he’d followed me to the store, where I’d wandered around aimlessly. “Finn: Part Two” I liked to call him in my head. Dad had placed a detail on me again, and even though I hated it, I let it slide.

  At least he was letting Finn stay at the house.

  His room might be on the complete opposite side of the house from my room, sure, but it was something. And it was only temporary. Christmas was coming up, and then we would go home right before New Year’s. After that, we’d be fine. And if I kept saying that, maybe it would be true. Finn tried to act normal. He held me close and told me he loved me.

  But he wasn’t Finn.

  I opened the front door and blinked. Every single light was on downstairs, and laughter came from the living room. Christmas music played in the formal sitting room, and I could hear my mother on the phone, talking quietly. I was pretty sure I heard my name, so I decided not to go in there. Instead, I’d follow the laughter because I recognized it. It made my whole body tingle and go warm. It was Finn.

  Laughing. Actually laughing.

  I crept into the room, my breath held. My dad, the same man who told me he didn’t want Finn and me together, was sitting next to Finn, laughing his butt off at something Finn had apparently just told him. Finn lounged back against the cushions, his casted arm resting against his chest with the help of a sling. He was laughing, too, those blue eyes shining.

  So. He’d been drinking again. It’s the only time he laughed anymore. He held a mostly empty glass of whiskey in his good hand, and the wound crossing his forehead and creeping into his shaved scalp gave him a ragged appearance. Kinda piratical. All he needed was a hoop earring and some buckskin pants. It was hot. His black tattoos stood out against his paler-than-normal skin, and his dimples were shining full force. He looked happy—normal, even. I knew better.

  It was the alcohol talking.

  Finn’s dad, Larry, was also there, but he wasn’t laughing. He was watching Finn with the same concern I felt. The same undying certainty that all was not quite perfect under that flawless smile and never-give-up attitude he kept showing to the world.

  “Did that actually happen?” Larry asked, smiling when Finn looked at him. Playing the part, just like me. Was that how I looked? Scared when Finn wasn’t looking, and perfectly content when he was? I had a feeling I did. “Or are you making that up?”

  I came more into the room, forcing a smile. “What did I miss?”

  Dad stood up and held his arms open, a grin still on his lips. “Griffin here was just telling me a story about his buddy from overseas. He was apparently scared of spiders.”

  “Really?” I hugged Dad. Crossing the room, I bent down, kissed Larry’s forehead, and squeezed his hand. Last, but not least, I turned to Finn. “What kind of big, scary fighter is scared of spiders?”

  Finn’s smile slipped for a fraction of a second. He lifted his glass to his lips, drained it, and smiled up at me as if he didn’t spend half the night pacing in his room instead of sleeping. As if he didn’t wake up screaming every night.

  As if I didn’t know all about it.

  “That’s what we said to him,” he said lightly. “But he was. We found that out one night, for sure.”

  I sat down beside Finn, resting my hand on his knee. He had one leg bent over the other, so it was the perfect snuggling position. He wrapped his good arm around me, his gaze shifting to my dad before he hugged me close. When he held me like this, I almost believed the façade he showed the world. Almost believed we were okay.

  “Did you put one on his pillow to mess with him?” Dad asked.

  He was being polite, but now that I was here, next to Finn, I could hear the tension in his voice. He didn’t approve, but he knew forbidding it wouldn’t work, so he was being quiet…for now. I couldn’t help but wonder how long that silence would last.

  “I did,” Finn admitted, a side of his mouth quirking up into a lopsided grin. “When he came into the room, I laid there as if I didn’t have a clue what the hell was going on.”

  Larry shook his head. “I’m sure he was pissed when he saw the beast on his bed.”

  “He screamed like a little girl.
” Finn’s hand flexed on my shoulder. He gave a long, hard look at the empty glass on the table before turning back to his dad. “That was the second to last day we were there. He didn’t sleep the whole night.”

  Which meant the next day, the guy Finn was talking about had been killed. And Finn had watched it happen. My heart twisted, and I looked up at him. He stared off into the distance, his brow furrowed. He looked lost. I wished I could find him.

  Dad cleared his throat. “And that was that.”

  “Yes, that was that,” Finn rasped. He seemed to shake himself, and then he was back on earth again. “He was scared to surf, too. I told him I’d teach him sometime.”

  “You’re an excellent teacher,” I said.

  “Wait.” Dad sat up straighter. “How would you know how good of a surfing teacher he may or may not be?”

  I froze. “Uh…”

  Finn closed his eyes and sighed. “I taught her.”

  “You did what?” He rose to his feet, his face turning an alarming shade of red. “Griffin Coram, I’ll have your skin for—”

  “Dad.” I glowered at him. “In the scheme of things, do you really think it’s that big of a deal? I’m obviously okay.”

  “Obviously okay?” Dad sputtered. “I…he…you…” He cut off. “Argh.”

  Finn cleared his throat and made as if to rise. “I think that’s my cue to grab another whiskey.”

  “I’ll get it.” Dad looked at me. “I need the fresh air.”

  Once my dad left, Finn looked at me and smiled, his blue eyes softening as they usually did when he looked at me. I ran my hand over his head, smiling back at him in return. I used to play with his hair. I missed that. “Oops,” I said. “My bad.”

  “He was bound to find out eventually. Might as well be now,” Finn said, reaching out to tug a strand of my hair. “Where’d you go earlier?”

  “I picked up your medicine.” I reached into my purse and put his bottle of pain pills on the coffee table. I’d be keeping a close watch on how many disappeared. “Remember? I told you before I left.”