“Not too sure about that,” he mumbled.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
Miles hitched his shoulder and looked away. “Transitioning into civilian life is kicking my ass, and I’m unsure what to do about it.”
He swiped at his neck and leaned against the mower handle. “It took me close to a year before I could admit that white-knuckling it wasn’t an effective strategy.” He motioned toward the house. “Let’s go in and grab something to drink.”
Miles nodded with a grateful smile. “Lead the way.”
Teague rolled the mower into the garage and then stepped into the house. “Iced tea or beer?”
“I better have tea.”
Nodding, he remembered how much he’d leaned on alcohol when he couldn’t understand what was happening to his brain. If Tancy hadn’t intervened, he could still be praying that the answers lay at the bottom of a bottle of bourbon.
He grabbed two bottles of tea from the fridge and handed one to Miles. “I thought I’d be the exception to the rule and somehow leave a decade in combat completely unscathed.”
“The superpowers let you down, did they?”
“Like you wouldn’t believe.” He sat at his small maple kitchen table and watched Miles grab a chair and join him. “Even a bunch of years in black ops didn’t help. In fact, it might’ve made it worse.”
“Before you give me all the grim details, you should know that I told Rorke I’d be available for assignments OCONUS.”
“Do what you gotta do, brother. It’s different for everyone.”
Miles ran his hand over the table. “How did you make it to the other side?”
“Tancy.” He cracked his knuckles. “I wasn’t getting many helpful answers from the Navy docs and was going down a road with no good end. And my neighbor noticed. Then she did something about it, became a relentless researcher, and found some answers that could make a change.”
“So that do-gooder side hustle worked in your favor?”
“Absolutely. And truth be told, she saved my life.”
“No shit.”
“If she hadn’t been so tenacious, I could very well not be here.” He let his mind briefly play back those dark days and then shook it off. “I kept getting told it was just PTSD and I needed to stick with the talk therapy and meds.”
“Did you have a TBI? Because most men from the Teams do.”
“Yes, but it was playing hide and seek. Unfortunately, no one picked it up because it overlapped with my PTSD. Apparently, all those years playing contact sports and being an explosive expert did a number on my noggin. Turns out that blast waves mixed with concussive and subconcussive brain injuries are a lethal mix.”
“Makes sense.” Miles ran his hand over the back of his neck. “My brain used to be my best ally, and now it feels like my worst enemy. Did the quiet of civilian life grate on your nerves when you retired?”
“Hell, yes.” He studied the bottle in his hand. “I missed the sound of mortars and helo blades whipping the air to shreds. My brain didn’t know how to be still since it was used to operating at a high combat tempo. And the time I spent in black ops only added to the problem. My body was familiar with cortisol and adrenaline running the show and didn’t like it when it was cut off cold turkey.”
“That’s a great way to describe it. I feel wired eighty percent of the time with my brain telling me to rack my gun despite the fact there are no evident threats.”
“I don’t think a person could come home and not feel that way.”
“So, walk me through your journey. How did you acclimate and get your head turned around?”
“It took about a year to realize how much trouble I was in.” He drank some of his tea. I’d been fully retired for about six months when Tancy moved in next door. When the pandemic hit, we started checking on each other. Neither of us was in great shape, and we agreed to give one another a sign of life every few days. When I stopped by, she’d be parked in front of her TV, knitting ugly blankets and consuming cookie dough like her life depended on it.”
“And what did she encounter on her check-in visits?”
He looked Miles dead in the eye. “That I was isolating and drinking too much. I also suffered from cognitive impairment, depression, headaches, insomnia, and impulsivity.”
“Is that all?” Miles asked with a snort.