Free Justifying Jack (The Wounded Warriors Book 2) by Simone Beaudelaire, J.M. Northup Page A

reminded him of group therapy sessions he'd seen on TV.
Guess there was more truth to those shows than I realized.
    Jack tried to imagine a collection of mentally traumatized soldiers sitting in those chairs, chatting about their feelings… and failed. Still, the concept of it all wasn't lost on him.
So they break us down and build us back up to make us a unit, and then they have to undo it all to fix the damage. The psychology of the military baffles me.
The thought occurred to him that perhaps some kind of emotional support might help him adjust to his disability… and he immediately dismissed the thought.
Not so easy to ask for help, is it? Sam must have really fallen apart.
    “No,” Mike shook his head. “I take it you haven't either, huh?”
    “Nah,” Jack answered. “And I'm glad for that.”
God knows I've spent my share of time in a hospital ward.
“If I never saw a hospital or clinic again, it would suit me just fine.”
    “Yeah, I bet,” Mike frowned, understanding the deeper implication behind Jack's words. Clearly trying to redirect the conversation away from darker topics, he asked, “Isn't it weird to be in this place now that we're not military anymore… Seeing so many people walking around in uniform and then having to go through the gate security, showing military identification to get onto the post?”
    “Beyond weird,” Jack agreed, grateful for the turn in subject. “Weirder yet is how odd it is to feel so comfortable. Who'd have thought a psych ward would seem more like home than my parents' house.”
    “My mom's house – or I should say my grandparents' kooky hippy compound - has never felt like home,” Mike commented tersely. “So really,
any place
seems more comfortable by comparison.”
    Jack didn't respond, not entirely sure the comment was meant for him. Even if it was, he wasn't sure what to say.
I think it's best if I just don't saying anything,
he thought, looking around until a few staff members caught his eye. “Kind of seems like we're in a fish bowl.”
    Mike's expression turned to one of confusion until he followed Jack's gaze over to the nurse's station. The two women behind the counter made no attempt to mask their scrutinizing observation of them. “They do seem to be watching us, don't they?”
    “Yeah,” Jack confirmed. “I didn't expect that either. I get it, but… I probably should've asked my dad about it. You know, so we'd have had an idea of what to expect at least. Maybe it would have made it… I don't know, easier?”
    “Ah, it'll be fine,” Mike said trying to sound nonchalant, though his stiff body betrayed his continued discomfort. “Weird, but… you know, fine.”
    The two men chuckled softly as a bug-eyed patient stared in from the hallway at them. They looked back, unblinking, which seemed to unnerve the young man. He scampered away, heading back down the hall, and disappeared into a room without uttering a word.
    It was at that point when Sam appeared at the dayroom entrance, looking exhausted and glassy-eyed. His movements were slow and deliberate, somewhat sluggish. He didn't appear to be interested in anything, as unfocused as he was.
    “Hey,” Sam lifted his chin slightly in greeting, and his voice sounded hollow. He dully added, “I didn't expect to see you guys here.”
    “We didn't expect to see you here either,” Mike replied, sticking his hand out to shake Sam's. Sam just looked at it for a moment before he grasped it. He shook it one time before he released it again, seemingly disconnected from the action.
    Damn, he looks like a zombie,
Jack thought, eyeing his friend with growing concern.
He lost his shit all right.
In an attempt to seem normal, Jack smacked Sam's shoulder affectionately, saying, “Hey, man. How are you doing?”
    Sam shook his head. “I'm fucking tired, Sarge. They put me on a bunch of shit and it has me draggin' ass.”
Poor guy.
Jack remembered the narcotics he'd been given after surgery and shook his