Текст книги "Scorched"
Автор книги: R. Holmes
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Текущая страница: 4 (всего у книги 10 страниц)
With that, I sink to the floor, my head in my hands, and for the first time in my life I cry.
Ember
Walking back to the car my entire body hurts with the pain I just received. My body feels like it took physical blows. Hale is alive. I can’t wrap my mind around the fact that he is alive, standing 100 feet from me. My heart aches for the things he has been through. My sweet, brave man has been through more in his life than any soul should ever have to endure. He’s pushing me away to protect me. I know him better than he knows himself. Whatever he is going through, he wants to shield me from. He’s spent our entire childhood trying to protect and defend me. It’s time someone did it for him.
I make it to my car and climb inside. Resting my forehead on the steering wheel, I take some deep breaths. I have to get home before I let these tears out. I can’t sit in Nan’s driveway and cry all night. Starting the car, I back out of the driveway and pull onto the highway. There are so many thoughts running through my head. Why would he hide from me? How can he even be alive? I’m mourning the man I’ve lost, the man that has been tortured and almost killed. I’m mourning for the pain that he has had to endure. I’m mourning for the innocent love that was so unfairly stolen from us.
I have been a lot of things and I have been through a lot in my life, but now is the time to be strong. It’s time to gather enough strength for both of us, and it’s time to get back the man that I desperately love. Nothing in life worth having comes easy. I told him I would fight for him, and I’ll fight till my last breath.
Part Three:
"People think a soul mate is your perfect fit, and that's what everyone wants. But a true soulmate is a mirror, the person who shows you everything that is holding you back, the person who brings you to your own attention so you can change your life."
– Elizabeth Gilbert
Chapter 1
Hale
Boom! Pew pew… Help…. Help Jarreau! Help!
Bolting upright in bed. I’m on my feet in the blink of an eye. My weapon drawn and ready. I see nothing in front of me, but shadows from the moonlight. Sweat drips from my body, and my heart is beating out of control; my body high on adrenaline. It’s the same nightmare every night, the same torture I live with daily. I didn’t do enough to save them. I should’ve fought harder, longer. I should’ve saved them… Why couldn’t I save them? The guilt living inside me eats at me every day. It weighs down on my shoulders. I slowly lower my weapon, placing it back next to my bed. Every night before I close my eyes, I set my gun next to my bed– loaded and ready. I need to feel the security of knowing if something happens, it’s close to me. Call it another fucked up thing I brought back with me. Reaching for the lamp, I switch it on and let light flood the room. The same room I grew up in. Not a thing has changed, everything exactly where I left it. Not that my old man would’ve given a shit whether I died there or not. The only thing he ever gave a fuck about was the bottom of a bottle. Deacon growls from the doorway, where he’s poised with his head down low and teeth bared as if ready to attack on my command. “Down boy,” I give him the sign, telling him to be at ease. When I left Walter Reed, a group called Paws for Veterans reached out to me. They’re a group that provides animals for wounded veterans with PTSD. Apparently my shrink thought it would be a good idea, for the “emotional support”, and that’s where Deacon came in. He’s full bred German shepherd and he’s my best friend. He’s the only one who seems to understand what I’ve been through, and the only one who helps me through the moments where my chest gets so tight it’s hard to breathe. My shrink believes I don’t have a severe case of PTSD, but obviously it’s bad enough to need fucking “emotional support’. I don’t even attempt to understand all the psychological bullshit that gets thrown at me. I like having him around, so he stays.
My leg aches with stiffness. Even if I wanted to do something meaningful with my life again, my leg would never allow it. The fuckers almost blew my knee cap off when they took me. I’m surprised the infection didn’t kill me. Extending my leg, I massage the raised bump. My skin around the wound looks marred and gangly. If only the physical scars I bared were the worst of my problems. My mind is fucked up beyond repair, far worse than my body ever could be.
Gripping the sides of the bed, I stand slowly and head towards the bathroom. Flicking on the light, I head to the mirror and open it and grab the pills inside. I open the lid, pop two into my mouth, and swallow them dry. Looking at myself in the mirror, I don’t even recognize the man staring back at me. Fuck, I can’t remember the last time I shaved or had a haircut. My eyes look tired; the bags under my eyes look dark and deep. The scar above my eyebrow is ragged and disgusting looking. That’s what I see when I look in the mirror. A fuckup; a bastard that couldn’t save the men who always had my back. My fucking brothers. I look down at the sink and squeeze my eyes shut tightly as I take deep breaths. Sometimes, when I’m just sitting here and thinking of shit, I think back to what I went through over there and I get sucked into a flashback. It’s not just any flashback, but one that feels so real I can’t tell the difference. I can feel the sun beating down on me. The sweat seeping through my cammies. I can still smell the desert air and ammunition all around me. When I finally come back to the present, thirty minutes will have gone by. My whole body will be tense and dripping sweat as if I was there. I won’t remember walking across the room and grabbing my weapon. It’s as if my body is wired to react even when I’m not fully there. That’s how I know I’m fucked up. It’s just one of the many things that keep me away from Ember. Someone getting lost so far in their own head should stay away from anyone they don’t want to tear down with them.
After I was released from the hospital, I stayed in DC for physical therapy. I didn’t feel like dealing with the hassle of moving to a new place when truthfully, I had nowhere to fucking go. I couldn’t go home to my dad’s house. Not with him drinking all the time and me still having flashbacks and nightmares that would’ve given him a fucking heart attack. I found an apartment close to the rehab center, and I took a cab everywhere. I couldn’t stand to ride the subway. It was too small of a space and all the crowds freaked me the fuck out. I didn’t go out. I didn’t make any friends. I didn’t socialize with anyone but Deacon. I stumbled across a tattoo shop that I heard some guys at therapy talking about and I started going a few times a month. After six months or so I was covered: my arms, my chest, and some of my back. It was a high I so desperately chased after the first time the needle touched my skin. The first tattoo I ever got, even before my Eagle, globe and anchor, was Ember’s name. Even after everything I’ve been through, after everything I continue to go through every day, she’s the first thing on my mind when I open my eyes and the last before I close them. No one knew where I was and it was for a reason. The only reason I entertained the idea of coming home is because of the house. It was sitting here rotting since the old man passed away and I couldn’t hide away in DC forever. I’m going to find someone local for physical therapy and try my best to keep my mind in a sane place.
I walk out of the bathroom, flicking off the light as I head back towards the bed. I grab my old leather journal from the nightstand and crawl back under the covers. Flipping it open, I pull out the pictures hidden within. I run my finger over her face, seeing the smile on her lips, her blue eyes looking back at me. I remember grumbling at her to put the phone away, to stop with all the pictures, but now they’re a lifeline. The pictures are so worn from years of being held, I don’t know how much longer they’ll last, but looking at them calms the storm inside my heart. They say soulmates find each other no matter where they are in the world, and that their lives will intersect at one point. Fate, destiny, hope. That’s what I had with Ember. It’s like God made us one; two halves and together we were whole. I will sacrifice my happiness in order to give her life. Drifting off, her blue eyes are the last thing my mind sees.
Chapter 2
Today, I’m heading into town to Jared’s shop to talk with him about a job. Jared Marshall taught me everything I know. Everything I know about cars, engines, bodywork... I learned it from him. The entire town will know once I pull up and I’m dreading it. I hate being the talk of the town. That’ll be one they haven’t heard; a dead man walking in town. Hopefully, it’ll all die down quickly and I can be left in peace. I need a job to keep me busy and out of my head. I got a pretty good chunk of money from the Marines. Apparently being captured by the enemy calls for some kind of monetary retribution – not that any amount of money in the world would ever make up for the shit that I’ve been through. It won’t last me long though, not with all the repairs Dad’s house needs. I have to put a new roof on, put flooring in the house, and repaint everything. I hope working and repairing the house will keep me from losing my mind.
Grabbing my keys from the table, I open the door and head towards the shop where the Camaro sits. I haven’t driven her since I’ve been home, not wanting to draw attention to myself. Or maybe because the thought of Ember overwhelms me every time I crank it up. I shove the key in the ignition and back out towards the street. Everything I pass, every spot in my hometown, reminds me of what I’ve lost. Every memory these places draw from me makes me angrier. Angry at everything I’ve given up. Angry for my life, the love of my life, and the person I use to be, being ripped away from me. Angry that I’m back here… angry in general.
I pull up at Jared’s and shut the car off, getting out and slamming the door shut. I see nothing has changed in the five years I’ve been gone. I see the office door open so I walk up, knocking on the door frame.
Jared looks exactly the same, as if five years hadn’t gone by since the last time I saw him. He’s still carrying too much weight around his middle (that I’m sure his wife is still on his case about). His hair is still buzzed close to his scalp. The Marines stuck with him, and I guess old habits die hard, oorah. Looking up from his paperwork, he notices me standing in the doorway, a look of shock sits on his face. This I expected. What would I think if I saw someone I believed was dead for the past three years standing in front of me? His face has gone white as a ghost, and he slowly stands from where he was sitting; the old rickety chair creaking as it moves.
“Hale?” He asks. I can hear the shock in his voice.
“Yeah Jared.” Walking into the office, I shut the old wooden door behind me.
“How are you sitting in my office? I put you in the ground boy, this can’t be real. I saw them hand her that flag right off the casket. They did the twenty one gun salute!” He shakes his head as if to bring him back to reality.
“I’m sorry to just come in here and throw this on you. I really am. It’s a long ass story, Jared. One I don’t much like repeating. I’m ready to leave it all behind and move on with what’s left of my life.” I tell him, taking my seat across from his desk. “I need a job. I’m fixin’ up my dad’s place and I need something to keep me busy. You know I’ll work hard and long for you.”
“You gotta give me something Hale. You walk right back into my office like you’re back from the fucking dead!” He looks at me like he still can’t quite believe what he’s seeing.
“We were ambushed by enemy forces. My brothers were killed. I was captured and they held me for over a year. Almost blew my fucking knee cap off and now I’ve got PTSD. A fucked up knee and I need this job to stop me from drowning myself in the bottom of a bottle.” Even saying it out loud sounds fucked up out of this world.
“Have you seen her?” He asks me softly, looking me in the eyes.
Fuck I don’t want to answer that. I hate myself enough for it. I don’t need everyone else’s bullshit too. “Yeah I have, Jared. Not something I really wanna talk about there either.” I feel antsy like a caged animal.
“You ruined her, Hale. That girl walked around this town like a zombie for months. The light left her eyes. It was hard for everyone to see.” Fuck. As if I really don’t hate myself enough; despise the man and the coward I am.
“It’s complicated. There’s nothing left I can offer her. I’m here for a job and that’s it. You gonna give me one?”
“Yeah boy, you know I’ll never turn you away. You wanna start tomorrow at seven? Be here when the shop opens.”
Standing, I stick my hand out, offering it to him. “I’ll be here. Thanks man.” Shaking my hand, he tells me, “I’m glad to see your face boy.Jesus, I still can’t believe you’re standing here. It seems like a dream or some shit! If you ever need someone to talk to, grab a six pack, and I’m here,” he says, sincerely.
“Trust me Jared, I’m the last person you wanna swap war stories with. I’m trying my best to live every day without reliving them. I appreciate it.” Turning towards the door, I open it and stroll towards the parking lot. I take a look around, seeing that the town hasn’t changed a bit, same ole houses and buildings. It brings some comfort knowing that even when the world is exploding around them, Crescent is the same place it’s always been.
The next few days are spent refreshing my memory of the newer model cars. Oil changes, tire rotations, and working on engines. It keeps my mind busy and off all of the shit floating around inside it. Apparently, everyone in town knows what happened, and I’ve had people walk by the shop and just stop and stare like I’m some fucking science experiment or a ghost. I guess when you see someone be buried it’s hard to forget; regardless of what you see standing in front of you. Thankfully, I haven’t seen Ember around. The last thing I need is another run in with her. I’m having a hard enough time keeping my ass at the house and away from her. Seeing her with that asshole walking from the movie a few weeks back was enough to throw me into a rage. I never said it was fair. I know it’s not. I have no right to feel this way. I’m the one pushing her away and treating her like shit. It just killed me to see him grab her hand like she was his. Obviously I'm more fucked up than I like to let on.
“Hey man, you wanna get some beers after work?” Nash asks. He’s the mechanic Jared hired a few weeks before I started. We’ve been working together at the shop the past few weeks and he’s asked a few times. I have no desire to pack inside a building with no direct sight of the door and a bunch of drunk fucks while listening to shitty ass music.
“C’mon dude you never do shit. yYou’ve gotta get out and live a little. Shit, you’re like 23 and you act like my grandma.” He throws a rag at me, laughing as it hits me in the face. “It’s just a few beers. Just us and the guys. Hopefully some pussy to cheer your mopey ass up. No tight spaces man. We’re going to do a bonfire out in the fields.”
If I go, maybe he’ll stop pestering the fuck out of me. It’s has been years since I saw anyone I grew up with.
“Yeah, I guess cocksucker. Now leave me the fuck alone and let me work.” I punch his shoulder, shoving him out of the way as I grab the jack and walk to the Chevy I’ve been doing an oil change on.
I pull up at the bonfire around eight and see twenty people or so milling around, beers in hand, and the girls standing in circles talking animatedly. It’s like right out of a movie. One about the small ass hick town with nothing better to do on a Saturday night. Parking my truck next to all the others, I cut the engine and get out. I walk over to where everyone is standing, and everyone just stops; staring at me like I’m an alien with two fucking heads. This is what drives me crazy. I hate being the center of attention and I prefer to keep to myself. Walking towards Chase, I see his arm thrown around a girl with platinum blonde hair. Her tits pressed against a tiny t-shirt, that’s obviously too tight for her. It’s like twenty degrees, so why the fuck doesn’t she have a jacket on? My response to tits is why she doesn’t have a jacket on. Fuck, I sound like a pussy. Chase is another guy I met while working at the shop. He comes up to hang out with the guys a lot. He’s an okay guy, but it’s not like I’m the poster child for happy friendships.
“Hey man. Glad you came. You already know our boy Nash. This is Jake, Tasha, and Dex.” He gestures to each person as he introduces them. The guys nod and shake my hand and the girls just giggle and don’t say a word. Shit, is this what guys like now a days? The only thing I’ve been acquainted with in the past three years is my hand. Fucking sad, but true. I don’t have any desire to try dating or even put in the effort it takes to fuck some random girl. It just doesn’t work for me. None of these girls do it for me. The fake tits, and plastic ass faces caked with makeup. My dick wants nothing to do with that.
Shaking my head, I leave them standing there and head for the ice chest that’s holding all the beer. Might as well drink a few while I’m here. I reach inside and pull a Bud Light can from the selection and pop the top, taking a long swallow. Looking over I notice headlights coming down the old dirt road, and a small black car comes into view. Sipping the beer, I watch as a blonde get out of the passenger seat. Blayr. Shit, how do they know Chase and Nash? I see the passenger door open and Ember climbs out, looking like a wet dream. Her hair falls in curls down her back, her cheeks are flushed from the heat of the car, and her jeans fit perfectly against her ass. I have to tell my dick to calm the fuck down before I embarrass myself in front of all these people. She walks into the crowd, greeting people as she goes and heads over to where Nashville is standing. He better not even fucking think of touching her. He pulls Blayr to him and I let out the breath I was holding. I didn’t want to have to beat the shit out of anyone tonight.
I walk back over, taking a seat on the tailgate that sits open across from the group. Ember looks up, and I see her jaw drop. She’s obviously wasn’t expecting me of all people to be here. Shit, I can’t hardly believe I came either. Her face is a canvas of surprise and desire. At least that's one thing that hasn't changed. Her body will always belong to me, no matter who she's with, or how she feels towards me. It's always been mine. I see Blayr whisper in her ear, and Ember bites her lip, nodding. Blayr heads towards the middle, dragging Ember behind her. My sweet girl, always following. Never taking the lead. Always been like that.
Breaking our stare I look at the people surrounding me. The guys looking for a girl to bury their problems inside for the night. The girls looking for a man to be different from all the rest. And I sit here alone, looking for solace from the nightmares filling my head every night.
Ember
Of all the places in the damn world for Blayr to drag me to, she drags me here. Granted, I’m sure she didn’t know Hale would be here but still, how am I supposed to be around him all night? I need alcohol. Stat. Following behind B, I head to where the keg sits and I raise my eyebrows at her, smirking.
“I’m so down.” She yells Nash’s name and he quickly comes over, no doubt for the chance to put his hands on her.
Apparently, I’m feeling brave tonight as I brace my hand on the sides of the keg and my feet are lifted off the ground. Doing keg stands like we are in high school, mature of us. I only last a few seconds as the rancid tasting beer slides down my throat, causing me to cough. Ugh, I am not cut out for this shit. Glancing towards Hale, I see his face set in hard lines and his jaw clenched. Fuck it, I don’t belong to him. I can do what I want.
I see Chase passing around cups and I gladly take one. Bringing the drink to my lips, I finish it off in one long gulp. The beer combined with the few shots we had before arriving are coursing through my body, giving me the liquid courage I desperately need. I walk to the middle of the field where everyone is dancing and close my eyes, moving to the beat. The cool wind blows my hair as I move, causing chills to break out on my neck.
The music pounds through the speakers of the truck and my body comes alive, moving on its own to the beat. I look back to see a guy watching me, his eyes sliding up and down my body appreciatively. Bringing my hands above my head, I let the music guide me. The alcohol burns in my veins making my head feel light. Finally, free of the shit that’s been weighing me down for so long. I close my eyes, swaying my hips to the music. I feel him walk up behind me and his hands sliding to my hips. Just as soon as his hands touch my body, they're gone. I'm pushed forward, my feet stumbling over the other as I barely catch myself on some poor guys arm.
"Don't fucking touch her," Hale yells more of a roar then a sentence, throwing the guy backwards. I rush over to him, placing my hands on his chest. "Stop Hale. Stop it now." I push him backwards, trying to get his attention away from the point of his anger. Pushing me aside he charges the guy, which is no one’s fault but his own since he's decided to puff up and act like he can take Hale. Whatever dude, I tried. Hale swings punch after punch into the guys face. I'm shocked no one has tried to break it up. When I see the guy’s body go limp, it's time for me to stop him. Rushing towards them, I pull Hale back from him with every bit of strength I have. I know he would never lay a hand on me. He would lay down his life before he would hurt me. Grabbing his face, I yell, "Look at me now, Hale Michael.” Finally, he drags his eyes away from the poor guy and looks at me. Out of the corner of my eye I see B and Nashville walking towards us. "We need to go before his buddies show up." I drag Hale behind me, pushing our way through the crowd that has surrounded us.
"Jesus Hale! What the fuck was that?" Nashville screams at him, fumbling for his truck keys as we get further away from the crowd.
"Just get in the fucking truck. Ember, who’s driving you?” He asks, grabbing my arm and halting me. My body is loose, and my head’s fuzzy from everything I’ve drank tonight. The last thing I feel like doing is fighting with Hale. Or anyone for that matter.
I shrug him off, crossing my arms over my chest. "Not that it's any of your damn business, but Nashville is dropping us off at the house. God, you have some nerve Hale. Some fucking nerve!” Spinning on my heel, I leave him there and stomp to Nash’s truck. Hopping up into the backseat I slam the door, and settle back against the seat. I’m so mad, I’m seeing red.
Hale
I'm so mad, I'm seeing red. Fuck, I lost my mind when I saw him put his hands on her. I couldn't stop myself; the next thing I knew my fist was against his face. He's lucky I didn't break his fucking jaw. I take a few calming breaths and jog towards Nashville’s truck. I can’t drive after the drinks I had, and the last thing I need is to be pulled over for a DWI. I see Blayr perched in the front seat next to him, chatting away. Sighing, I walk around to the driver’s side and open the back door. Hopping up into the truck, I lean my head back against the headrest and take more deep breaths. I’m trying to reign my anger in and knowing she’s sitting less than a foot from me doesn’t help the situation. I open my eyes and look over at her and find her staring back at me. The tension is so thick you could cut it with a knife. This entire night turned into a cluster fuck, and now my knuckles are bruised and aching. My balls feel like they may burst if I have to stay in this truck with her much longer. I just want to bury myself inside her and never leave.
"You're an asshole, Hale. You had no right to touch that poor guy!" She screams at me, hitting me in the chest. She’s so close I can feel her breath against my face. "I'm so damn mad at you, I could leave you here and not give a damn." I see the angry tears welling up in her eyes. Shit, I didn't mean to make her cry.
"Let's not pretend you're upset over some prick at a party, Ember. We know what the real problem is here. Doesn't change anything." My head is starting to pound. It’s like my body aches to touch her. She’s so close yet so far away. Even if she is in arm's reach, I refuse let my hatred for the world taint her.
"Fuck you, Hale. You're not fooling anyone but yourself." The entire car goes silent with her words. I look over at her and see the little smirk sitting on her face. I want to grab her by the neck and pull her to me, kiss the sassiness right out of her. I want to slam my mouth onto hers and show her just who’s fooling who.
"Yeah, well that’s the way it’s supposed to be Sweet Girl." I tell her, never breaking eye contact. She rolls her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest and looks out the window. That's right babe, show me the sassy. I want it all. We can fight all night, but it won't change how things have to be or how things are going to be. My love for her will conquer all. Even her. Looking away, I glance out the window seeing the city lights fade behind us. We pull into the driveway and I thank Nashville for the ride and apologize to everyone for losing my temper. The only friends I have and I'm already fucking it up. Let's add it to the list, yeah?
As I get out of the truck, I hear a door slam and then Nashville’s truck powering down the drive. I whip around and see Ember standing there, arms crossed over her chest.
"What are you doing, Ember? You better walk right on over to Nan’s. Not in the mood for anymore fighting tonight." I turn towards the house, pulling my keys from my pocket. I need to ice my knee and elevate it. It’s been hurting ever since I threw douchebag on the ground. I fumble with the keys and end up dropping them by my feet. “Fuck,” cursing, I reach for them. Ember is there suddenly, picking the keys up and unlocking the door effortlessly. She opens the door and walks right through like she owns the damn place, leaving me standing there dumbfounded. I hear Deacon growl as she walks into the living room. “Down, boy. Now.” I’m still standing on the porch trying to wrap my head around this stubborn as shit woman.
"Hale Michael get in the damn house and shut the door. Now." She says, leaning against the door into the kitchen. "I know about your leg; Nashville told me. You need to sit and elevate it and relieve the pressure.” With that she turns on her heel and walks into the kitchen. Lord have mercy, this girl will be the fucking death of me... What a sweet death it would be.
Sighing, I run my fingers over my face, feeling the stubble of my beard against my hand. I need to shave, but I haven’t even given it a thought until now. My hair is too damn long, falling in my eyes. Constantly driving me nuts. I throw the keys on the table by the door and walk towards the kitchen. I hear her fumbling around with shit, probably making herself at home. I walk through the kitchen and I spot her wrapping the ice pack in an old kitchen towel. “Go sit on the couch Hale.” I know it’ll do no good to argue with her. I hobble to the couch and slowly sit, grabbing the arm of the chair as I lower my ass onto the cushion, wincing at the pain that shoots up my leg. I need to get back into physical therapy before I’m crippled.
Just as I close my eyes I hear her walk into the living room. I look up, seeing her standing over me and my hands ache to touch her. She sets the ice on my leg that’s resting on the coffee table. Clenching my fists I ask her, “Why are you here, Ember? What good will this do either of us?” Looking towards her, I see the pain flash across her face. I hate being the person to cause that pain, but I’m too fucked up to make myself happy, let alone anyone else. I can’t be the man she needs me to be. “If there was one thing you ever were Hale Jarreau, it was stubborn. I remember the time Nan told you to put a jacket on while you were outside playing football with the boys and you told her you’d be fine and didn’t need a jacket. Three days later you were laying on the couch with the flu. Even then, you were worrying about me. Every second of every day you had to make sure I was taken care of and happy. What changed Hale? It kills me to sit next to you and act like I wouldn’t give anything to be in your arms.” She looks down at her hands in her lap, “You may not be the same man you were when you left, Hale, but the love of my life is in there. I know he is. You just have to let me in. Let me take the hurt you’re feeling away. Let me be the one you talk to. I love you. I want to be with you Hale, I have for my entire life.” Just hearing her voice calms the storm raging inside me. It’s so exhausting to fight the thing your body craves the most. Now I know what an addict feels when tempted with their drug of choice. Mine just so happens to be sitting on a silver platter right in front of my face.
Rising slowly from the couch, I take one last look at her and force my feet to carry me towards the kitchen. My fists clench at my side, my entire body is tight with need. Walking towards the counter I grip the edges, dropping my head down, taking deep breaths. She’s like the drug I need coursing through my veins ;a taste of her could cure all the pain. God, I sound like a pussy. I know Ember is my once in a lifetime love. I just hope that she can find that love again with someone who deserves her and can give her the world.
Pushing away from the counter, I stroll back through the living room towards the stairs. Yelling back over my shoulder, “I’m headed to bed, lock up on your way out, yeah?” I take the stairs slowly, but as quickly as my bum ass leg can carry me. Deacon follows right behind me as she opens the front door and I hear her whisper, voice thick with emotion, “I love you, Hale. You stubborn asshole.” Then the door closes. Yeah, well at least you get it. Hopefully one day she’ll understand it’s for her own good. Pulling my t-shirt over my head, I throw it on to the floor with the rest of the clothes I haven’t bothered washing. I quickly remove my jeans and socks and head to the bathroom. I turn the water on hot, the hotter the better, and I welcome the burn, maybe it’ll wash all my sins away. I step inside, wincing as the pain shoots up my thigh. This fucking leg’s good for nothing.
