Solace (3 page)

Just suck it up and be a man for once
. That’s what his father would have said. What he
had
said when Aaron had come home in tears.

Richard was a far better man, and that made it even worse.

“Okay,” he said softly. “I’ll do it.”

Because he couldn’t say anything else.

A
aron spent
thirty minutes just trying to decide what to wear.

He wasn’t a high-maintenance man. He didn’t spend an unreasonable amount of time on his appearance. Sure, he didn’t wear wrinkled clothes and he was pretty habitual about when and how his laundry got done. He seemed to be one of the few people who actually owned and used an iron and ironing board. But his outfits were usually comprised of button-down shirts and slacks, and he just ran a comb through his hair, reserving product only for when it was being a pain in the ass.

Today, though, he’d fussed. He’d picked out three different pairs of slacks, two black and one khaki, then decided on a black pinstripe before changing his mind and going with the solid black. He wore a belt, mostly for the way it looked, and finally managed to settle on a grey button-down shirt. He even put a little product in his hair just so it didn’t look as messy as it normally did, and he shaved the day’s-worth of stubble.

Despite all those things, he wasn’t late. In fact, he was infuriatingly early. Since the presentation was first thing in the morning, Richard had said he’d meet him there and then they could head to the Paws For Hope facility afterward. Aaron was at the VA before it even opened, sitting in his car, watching people go in.

He fidgeted, checking his phone, hoping to find some sudden excuse to save himself from this.

He knew he wasn’t unprepared. He’d gone over the presentation materials every night, practicing for several hours. He’d gone page by page through the PowerPoint, memorizing everything he wanted to say about the statistics Richard had pulled up.

Aaron had every facet of the presentation committed to memory. All he had to do was recite it.

But that was easier said than done.

A quick glance at the clock revealed it was a quarter ’till. Time to get set up. But he didn’t move. His excuse? That he needed one more run-through. Pulling open his laptop, he cycled through the presentation, every point coming easily.

If he could just repeat the words in his head, he’d be golden.

It would be easy this time. Well, maybe not easy. But doable. He’d had a week to prepare, for God’s sake.

Aaron reached up to rake a hand through his hair, remembering with some misery that it was stiffer now than usual. He was out of excuses, and he finally shut off the ignition, walking around the SUV to open the hatchback.

A dog rested calmly in a large crate. Her ears perked up when she saw him, and she lifted her head, but she didn’t move to get up until she realized the crate was being opened.

Even though the program had grown to train dogs to individual owners, they still had dogs that were trained for basic service tasks, available to those who didn’t need anything too specific. Lucy was one such dog. A four-year-old shepherd mix, she was one of the most docile at the center, and she’d make a good impression on the veterans.

“If I start to make an ass of myself, do something cute, okay?”

Lucy stared up at him with soft brown eyes, but she didn’t bark. The only indication that she’d even heard him was the slow wag of her tail. Aside from being skittish—Lucy had flunked out of a K9 program as a puppy because she was afraid of gunfire—she’d always been an easy dog to train, and when Aaron started toward the center, she stayed right at his side, just as she should.

He suddenly wished he’d brought a stubborn, untrained dog with him.

I don’t know what happened, Rich. He just refused to go in. I guess we’ll have to reschedule!

Yeah. That would work.

Aaron drew in a breath through his nostrils and lifted his head, trying to keep himself laser focused on the entrance so he wouldn’t notice the multitude of exits. But something drifted across the corner of his vision, catching his attention.

A tall, well-built man in a grey Army t-shirt and blue jeans that were faded and frayed at the knees strode up to the double doors, paused a moment for them to swing outward, then headed into the building. He walked with a purpose, and the confidence of a man who knew where he was going and what he wanted. Despite his size, there was a grace to him that didn’t match his physique, and a power that did.

Midnight-black ink covered his arms, peeking out from beneath his sleeves and ending at his wrists. From this distance, Aaron couldn’t make out all the tattoos, but there were lots of loops and swirls that highlighted his build. His shirt was probably a little too tight, and it stretched over the muscles in his back as Aaron watched. His jeans weren’t too tight, but his ass flexed against the fabric, and Aaron felt a stirring of interest.

Great. So not the time for that. But at least the feeling served to distract him, and, by the time he made it up to the doors, he could see Richard. No turning back now.

“I thought you weren’t going to show,” Richard said jovially.

He was positive Richard had seen his car. He’d seen Richard’s a good ten minutes earlier.

“I considered it.”

Richard reached out and clapped him on the shoulder. “You’ll be fine. I know you must have the entire presentation memorized by now. You’ve probably been reciting it in your sleep. You just have to go out and deliver it.”

Aaron told himself the same thing, but the reality of delivering it in front of a room of soldiers was something far different than speaking into his mirror.

A door opened to his right. Frosted glass kept the room from being too visible, but now Aaron could see that it was packed. Men and women occupied all of the seats, and a row of people stood at the back.

“They’re ready for you,” an older man said.

Already? He’d given himself fifteen minutes to come to grips with the fact that this was happening. But when he looked up at the wall clock, it was very nearly nine.

“You can do this,” Richard whispered to him.

Aaron nodded, but the action felt hollow. So too did the movement of his legs. He felt his grip on the lead. He even felt Lucy’s tension in response to that grip. But everything else was numb until he stepped past the threshold and into the room.

It wasn’t loud. He expected a room full of soldiers to be loud. There were a few conversations happening, but much to Aaron’s dismay, most people were already focused on him. Some of them looked at Lucy, which helped, but he could feel several pairs of eyes on him as he headed up to the podium.

He was shaking by the time he told Lucy to stay. Just a fine tremble, not even visible. But he could feel it, and like the very first domino knocked over by a light gust of wind, it threatened to set off a chain reaction if he didn’t stop it.

You have to do this. Rich is counting on you. It’s just a ten-minute presentation. Ten minutes. That’s nothing.

Lucy whined, looking up at him. She could tell he was in distress. He stroked her head, finding himself in need of a service dog of his own at the moment. It was ridiculous. No one should launch into a panic attack over a speech.

He took in a deep breath and let it out. During his brief stint in college, one of his professors had told him to find someone in the crowd and deliver the speech only to them until he was ready to make eye contact with other people.

Aaron searched, and immediately his gaze fell on a pair of deep blue eyes. They were kind and soulful, and it took a moment for him to realize they belonged to someone he’d already seen.

The soldier from the parking lot. The one with the impossibly firm ass.

Great.

But instead of drawing his gaze away, he noticed things he hadn’t before. The soldier hard a neatly trimmed dark-brown beard, in contrast to his buzz cut. And down the sides of his neck, disappearing into his shirt, were twin tattoos. Dragons, maybe? That seemed too clichéd, though.

Either way, those tattoos made him wonder what else was hidden beneath his clothing.

A throat cleared, and Aaron realized he’d been staring at the same man for… way longer than he should have been. He felt heat rise in his cheeks, and he looked down at his laptop, getting the projection ready.

“I’m, um. I’m Aaron Hayes, and I work as a certified trainer at Paws For Hope. I oversee the… rehabilitation and placement program, and the…”

Oh God, he was already losing it. He cleared his throat and tried again.

“I oversee the rehabilitation and placement program, and I’d like to give you an overview of how service dogs could potentially benefit veterans who’ve been affected by their time in the service.”

He hit a key, and the presentation progressed. Okay. Everything was going to be okay. He could do this.

“While dogs have been assisting humans for thousands of years, we’ve only just begun to…”

He could hear part of a mumbled conversation in the back row. The words he’d so carefully prepared fled, and his brain just stopped, conjuring up images from long ago.

“We, uh…”

Lucy nudged his hand, but even resting his palm on her head didn’t help.

“We’ve only just b-begun—”

Shit.

Heat rose in his cheeks. He backed away from the podium. Lucy licked his hand, but he turned to Richard with a plea in his eyes.

And Richard didn’t hesitate. He walked up to the podium, thanked Aaron, then started giving the rest of the presentation.

Aaron made his way toward the door, eager to escape. As soon as he was through it, that sensation of the world finally opening up came over him again. He sat on yet another bench, and rested his head against the textured wall.

Lucy put her head in his lap, and he absently stroked her. But even that wasn’t enough to wash away the weight of his failure.

He’d let Richard down. Again. He was never going to conquer this. Every time he thought he had a foothold, he was eight years old again and being humiliated by the people who were supposed to care for him most.

Nothing had changed. It would never change.

S
eeing
a presenter rush out of a room in the middle of a presentation was the last thing Shane had expected.

It was obvious the guy was nervous, from the way he fidgeted to the concentrated efforts he seemed to make to act “normal.” Shane knew that feeling all too well, though his issues with crowds were different. He didn’t really mind speaking in front of them. He minded being in the middle of one, with people flanking him on all sides.

That was why he’d parked himself at the back of the room, where he had a clear shot to the exit. Even that wasn’t 100 percent effective, though, and he hated that he didn’t feel safe around his fellow soldiers. These men and women had probably suffered through the same things he had, but still some part of his brain warned him not to get trapped.

The only time he hadn’t felt that wringing sense of unease was when the presenter—Aaron’s—eyes were fixed on him.

It was the strangest damn thing. At first, he’d just written it off. Aaron was focusing on a fixed point in the crowd, not him specifically. But he’d seen the man’s gaze move down his body, and he’d felt a little flush that had nothing to do with how hot it was in the crowded room.

Weird. He hadn’t expected to feel that sense of attraction once he was back home. Not that he thought a switch would just flip and he suddenly wouldn’t be attracted to guys anymore, but when he’d taken an interest in other soldiers it had been for a very specific purpose. A quick fuck to drown out the rest of the day. Nothing long-term.

He didn’t have a need for that here, or so he thought. And Aaron really wasn’t his type. He was thin, and there was something about the way he held himself that made it seem like he’d just come straight from a lecture at Yale or some shit.

But he was interesting. So much so that Shane found himself staring at the door, waiting for him to return. He didn’t, but Shane’s anxiety did, and he made an effort to redirect his attention to the new presenter instead of the sea of people around him.

The man—Richard Baker—talked about what service dogs could do. Everything from guidance for the hearing and visually impaired to fetching crucial items, alerting to various medical conditions, and lowering stress and anxiety levels. The last was particularly interesting to Shane, and, he suspected, to a lot of the men and women here.

He went on to talk about the process, but Shane had trouble keeping focused. One of the men was making his way through the crowd and toward the door. Shane moved back to allow him room, but it wasn’t enough. His shoulder brushed against Shane, and the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, adrenaline pumping through his body.

Not here. Not now. For fuck’s sake.

Shane focused on Richard, and slowly—too slowly for his liking—the feeling passed. But Richard’s presentation had come to an end, too. He’d missed all the information he needed to get.

“I have pamphlets available,” Richard said, as if reading his mind, “and if anyone has any questions, I’m happy to answer.”

There was a good chance that his question had been answered in the session, but if Shane looked like an idiot for asking it, then oh well.

He put up his hand, and waited for Richard to call on him.

“How much does it cost to get a service dog?”

“It depends on your needs and how intensive the training will be. If you need specific commands, the process of training will of course take longer and require more resources. Typically the total averages between three- and five-thousand dollars.”

Five grand? Shane’s heart dropped straight into his stomach, his hopes shattering on impact. He didn’t have that kind of money. He’d be lucky to scrape together enough to survive until he got a job, considering his complete lack of prospects. Employers didn’t exactly see him as a banner candidate. Not when the government loudly proclaimed he’d been dishonorably discharged for misconduct.

“Thanks,” Shane mumbled.

The conversation moved on, but Shane didn’t move with it. He was still stuck in the standstill of failure. A service dog wasn’t happening, and that meant he was wasting his time here.

He moved toward the exit, scrubbing his hand over his shaved head. Fishing his phone out of his pocket, he went to call Denise. She’d been the one to suggest this. She’d built his hopes up. She should know better.

But when the screen came to life, a familiar picture greeted him.

It was his Becca, her arms thrown around his neck. He was dressed in his fatigues, home only for a short two weeks before heading back out again. He’d kept that picture as his lock screen since then, and whenever he pulled out his phone, he was reminded of everything he had to live for.

Everything he had to fight for.

This felt like the end of the road. Therapy hadn’t worked, and it wasn’t like he was just going to magically get better. He had to try this program, and if that meant coming up with $5,000, he’d have to figure it out. Somehow.

If he didn’t, he’d lose Becca forever.

And that would kill him.

Shoving his phone into his pocket, Shane turned back to grab a pamphlet. But he caught movement out of the corner of his eyes. Just beyond the doors, a man was walking a dog. And not just any man, but the one who’d fled the first presentation like a bat out of hell.

Shane took a detour from the conference room, heading outside. He didn’t know what possessed him to approach the man, but something was drawing him in. From the moment their eyes had met he’d felt it.

Aaron froze as Shane approached, his expression almost comical if Shane could ignore the obvious fear behind it. Jesus, he must look rough. He should have shaved before this, and maybe worn a shirt with a higher collar, since again Aaron’s eyes went to his tats.

“Hey,” he said, trying to make his voice sound friendlier than its usual timbre.

“Hey,” Aaron answered, and the corner of his lips quirked in an obviously forced smile.

That was okay. Shane had forced plenty of smiles in his lifetime.

The dog—Lucy, if he remembered right—started to wag her tail slowly. It wasn’t the frantic wag he’d seen in a lot of dogs, just a lazy little helicopter circle. Shane crouched down and offered his hand to her, petting her head.

“Hey there, pretty girl.”

She leaned into his touch, her fur soft against his fingers, and Shane smiled. Couldn’t he just have this dog? He could already feel the magic working. At least, he felt a little calmer. But he wasn’t in the middle of a crowd, and Aaron looked like the least threatening person on the planet.

Except for right now. His face held an odd mix of what seemed like a genuine smile fighting against a sternly clenched jaw.

“You actually shouldn’t approach service dogs when you see them working. They have to be focused on their environment.”

“Oh. Shit.” Shane returned to his full height, and realized just how much taller he was than Aaron. Aaron seemed to realize that too, because Shane saw his grip tighten on the lead. “Sorry, I didn’t know.”

“It’s okay,” he said quietly. “It’s a common mistake.”

“Actually, I don’t know much about any of this. I was hoping to get one of those pamphlets. You don’t have one on you, do you?”

Aaron frowned, his full lips drawing Shane’s focus. “I don’t. They’re still in the conference room with Richard. I can…”

He didn’t complete that sentence. It would have been obvious even to the least observant person on the planet that Aaron didn’t really want to follow through.

“Nah, it’s cool. I’ll just grab one.”

He started back toward the building, but Aaron’s voice stopped him.

“Wait. What… What did you want to know? Maybe I can help.”

Shane turned back to him and smiled, and he could see Aaron relax.

“I was just curious about the process. If I sign up, what happens next? Do I have to have a dog already? Will you give me one? Am I going to be training with it myself?”

“Well, you have to submit an application, then we’ll make sure a therapy dog can help you, and try to determine what type of dog would be a good fit. We can train a dog that’s bonded to you and has the right temperament, or we can pick a dog specifically for you. You’d be involved in every step of the training, three days a week for several hours so that you and the dog can bond as a pair.”

Aaron continued, and the more he talked, the more he seemed to open up. His grip on the lead had been tight and tense at first, but it loosened over time. His free arm, drawn about his middle like a shield, eventually hung at his side. There was a light in his bright blue eyes that grew with every word he spoke, and an underlying pride and passion for what he did that was almost intoxicating, to the point where Shane could practically feel himself sway toward the man as if he was a magnet.

It seemed to take Aaron a moment to even realize he’d monopolized the conversation, and that Shane hadn’t spoken in probably the past five minutes. His cheeks colored, and he looked down at the dog instead of at Shane.

“Sorry. Guess I got a little carried away.”

“Don’t be sorry. You answered a lot of my questions.”

Aaron looked up at him and Shane smiled. He knew he could put on that charming face when he wanted. He’d turned it on so many times to get his way. But for once, his expression was genuine. And it was still a little gratifying when Aaron’s blush deepened.

“I’m Shane Carter,” he said, offering his hand.

After a moment’s hesitation, Aaron took it. His hand was warm, his grip more solid than Shane would have expected. Shane gave a firm pump before releasing his hand.

“Aaron Hayes.”

“So… do I need an appointment, or can I drop by your place whenever?”

It took Shane a moment to realize what he said, and why Aaron suddenly looked like he wanted to crawl inside the earth and disappear. When he did, though, he just grinned, as if he’d meant it that way.

“Oh. The facility,” Aaron finally said. “Right. We’re open from eight until five, Monday through Friday. You don’t need an appointment, but you may have to wait a few minutes for someone to meet with you. We don’t usually have anyone first thing, so that’s your best bet.”

Shane nodded. “I’ll be there first thing, then.”

It wasn’t like he had anything else to do. The quicker he could get into this program and show Shell he was making progress, the quicker he’d be able to see his daughter.

“Thanks for your time, Aaron. I look forward to talking to you again.”

Aaron offered him a small smile. Shy, but real. “Yeah. Me too.”

“And hey—Don’t let those guys in there get to you. A lot of us are too stuck inside our heads to notice much else.”

Aaron gave him a surprised look, but Shane turned away, heading back to get that pamphlet so he could have the address and phone number on hand. As he reached the door, he realized what he’d said. He’d pretty much told a complete stranger there was something going on with him.

Maybe it wasn’t a huge leap. He wouldn’t need a service dog otherwise. But what the fuck?

Shane could feel himself shore up, and as soon as he was back inside the VA, he was a steel trap again. He’d be more careful next time. If there even was a next time.