Free Command and Control by Shelli Stevens

part of her begged to give them another chance. But with Trevor leaving, he’d just given her the brutal reminder of why she’d left him in the first place.
    Trevor walked out this morning because he didn’t want to hurt her. The only thing he didn’t seem to realize was that every time he closed himself off and walked away, a little piece of her died.

Chapter Nine
    Sunday on Main Street was quiet, with most of the folks in church or sleeping in. There were only two shops open right now. Kate’s Cakes and The Oceanside Tavern. Any other day Trevor would’ve chosen Kate’s Cakes, but today wasn’t any other day. Today was the day he’d woken up nearly choking to death the woman he loved. His stomach roiled and his teeth ground together. Sweat broke out on the back of his neck and he shoved open the door to the tavern with unsteady hands.
    He strode inside, his unseeing gaze moving over the man sweeping the floor and moving straight to the alcohol behind the counter.
    “Morning,” the man called out. “Cleaning up after a bit of a wild night. Bachelorette party.”
    Trevor didn’t reply, just gave a slight nod.
    “Oh, hey, didn’t recognize you at first,” the older man said coming around the counter. “Aren’t you the oldest Wyatt boy? I heard a lot about you. I’m Sam, new in town. Evan was real nice to give me a job.”
    The idea of small talk wasn’t settling well in the least. Trevor forced a slight semblance of a smile and a gruff, “Welcome to town. And yes, I’m the oldest Wyatt.”
    “And a soldier, I’m told. Army.” Sam gave a hard nod and wiped down the counter. “Me? I’m retired from the Marine Corps. I’ve got nothing but respect for you, son. What can I get ya?”
    “Shot of Jack Daniels.”
    Sam didn’t even blink or comment about the time of day, just grabbed a shot glass and poured the shot, before sliding it across to him.
    Trevor lifted the glass and knocked it back, letting the whiskey warm his belly before setting the empty shot down again.
    “You been over to Iraq? Afghanistan?” Sam asked quietly.
    “Afghanistan.” He didn’t want to talk about himself or about Afghanistan. Wanting to divert the bartender’s attention he asked, “What about you? What kind of combat did you see back in the day?”
    “First Gulf War. Somolia.” He shook his head and sighed. “I think you boys got it worse though now. Like I said, you’ve got my respect. And you’ve got another shot on me if you want it, son.”
    Trevor thought about it, stared at the bottle on the other side of the counter and the amber liquid inside. Another shot wasn’t going to solve anything. Hell, the first one hadn’t even helped.
    “Thanks, Sam. I’m good for now.”
    “No problem. Well, then that first one was on me.” Sam paused and then said quietly, “Time does help with the healing, son. I promise you. Now I’ll leave you in peace, but you holler at me if you need anything.”
    Trevor nodded as the other man walked away. Staring into his empty glass, he wondered if Sam had come back from combat as fucked up as he was.
    The army had offered him counseling when he’d returned from Afghanistan. He hadn’t thought he’d needed it, but now, sometimes he wondered if maybe he should’ve.
    Being with Megan last night had been so damn amazing. He’d begun to feel whole again, like everything was finally going to be okay and maybe he’d get the shot at happiness that seemed so damn unattainable. Falling asleep with Megan in his arms, hearing her soft breathing as she’d snuggled against him, he’d had so much hope.
    But as he’d fallen asleep, guilt had sliced through any attempt at letting the past go and moving forward. And then he’d woken up from another nightmare to find Megan pinned beneath him, eyes wide with terror, struggling to breathe.
    He’d left. Gotten dressed and run like hell. If he was smart, he’d run like hell back to Fort Lewis, stay away from Megan and the potential of