The pain inside us can linger and cause us to withdraw if we don’t find the healing we need. This is especially true for those who have lived through trauma. I explore the topic in this week’s post for My Sexy Saturday.
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Dalton Blake feels responsible that an attack on the field of battle claimed his comrade and lover. Dalton is now stateside and about to finish his commitment but rage lives on inside.
His eyes welled up. Fuck the tears. If he could do it over again, he would. He wanted to tell Jerry that he’d find a way if there was another chance, some type of reset. Shit. The tears broke through and clouded his vision so he couldn’t find his car. “Goddamn it.” All he had to do was jump behind the wheel, take off into the desert night, and fly off the first curve into oblivion and maybe, just maybe, he’d be reunited with his first love. He fumbled in his pocket and couldn’t even grab the keys.
Shafter again. Dalton made his way to the edge of the parking lot, away from the streetlamps and the angle of the headlights beaming in and out of the bar’s parking lot, gravel crunching beneath the cars’ tires. “Go back in and fuck with someone else’s mind.” This sure as hell was no way to get another guy in bed. Maybe Shafter was an emotionally sick and twisted pickup artist.
“Talk to me.”
“Why the hell should I?” Dalton wiped his eyes.
“Because you need to.” Shafter’s voice was calm.
Dalton hated losing control of his emotions. That was for his college years and the giddy boy-in-love moments in the stupid frat house. Those days had vanished and his future was as bleak as the Mojave Desert in August. Finally, he composed himself and leaned against the tailgate of a pickup. He felt like a con man on the run and Shafter the good guy lawman unwavering in his quest for justice. Why fight?