Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 76573 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76573 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
“It isn’t,” he said, furrowing his brow. He turned and looked out past the deck, his eyes scanning the trees that marked the top of the hill before it led down to the cliff. “I don’t really like talking about it. But I was with someone, while I was in Afghanistan.”
I cleared my throat. “Another Marine?”
He nodded. “We didn’t tell anybody, but everyone probably kind of knew we were together, anyway. They were nice enough about it, mostly. Or at least they didn’t make waves. We hoped we could be together, once we got back. And then…. and then I woke up one morning and learned he had died.”
His words hit me like a truck. He said it so simply, like he was describing a simple fact. He’d clearly spent a long time trying to make it seem that way.
Luke had had a partner. And he’d died overseas.
“Jesus. I’m so sorry,” I said.
He nodded once. “Just a small explosion. One that didn’t make it anywhere near into the US news. Barely mentioned in the local news, even. He was the only one killed, and three others just walked away with some shrapnel bruises.”
I swallowed, watching Luke closely. I’d never heard him talk about anything this personal.
“The dates aren’t even his birthday or day of death,” Luke said, looking down at the tattoos. “I wanted something different. The day we met, and the last day I got to sleep next to him.”
My heart sank. “Can I ask what his name was?”
“Jason,” he said. “He was kind. I… don’t even know if things ever would have worked out between the two of us, if we got the chance. We did fight like hell, pretty often. But we never even got to try for more. It was the only time I’d had something like a real relationship, for longer than just a couple months.”
“Wow. I can’t even imagine, Luke.”
He sucked in a long breath of air, finally glancing over at me, mustering a smile that looked like it took effort. “There’s a reason I don’t make plans,” he said. “It sounds stupid, but I can’t do anything other than live each day the best I can. Anything else is too much. You say I seem so free, but really it’s just the only way I know how to live.”
“I still admire it,” I said softly. “And I can never know what it is like. To live with that much pain. Those types of memories.”
He shook his head, looking down at the ground. “It’s easy to compare. But that’s a dangerous game. You probably do know what it’s like to live with ghosts from your past.”
“I guess so,” I said.
“Yours are completely different, but don’t discount your own experience just because you’ve heard about my sob story.”
“It’s so much, though,” I said. “You were in Afghanistan. In a fucking war. That’s so much harder than anything I’ve ever experienced. And you lost someone.”
“That doesn’t matter,” he said, putting all of his frustration on that final word. “It’s part of the reason I don’t typically tell people about him. About my experiences overseas. I don’t want people thinking they have to treat me differently, or treat their own lives as less important. Less painful.”
“I can understand that.”
“Everybody has their own hurt.” His gaze was stormy.
“I really appreciate you telling me,” I said. “You didn’t have to, and I know that.”
He let out a long breath of air, like he’d been holding it in. He looked at me again, his expression softened. “It’s pretty easy to tell you things. To trust you,” he said. “Maybe it’s because I know I’m just a secret thing in your life, you know?”
I bit the inside of my cheek. “Not a secret thing,” I said.
He shrugged one shoulder. “You don’t have to mince words,” he said. “I’m okay being a little secret. As long as I’m a hot one.”
I snorted. “You have no idea how hot you are.”
“Oh yeah?” he asked, clearly happy to have a change in topic. All of the life was there in his face again, and he no longer seemed like he was drowning in memory.
“Hot enough that I’m going to make you a sandwich right now,” I said. “And later, a really, really nice dinner.”
“Shucks, Cameron,” he said.
Now I was smiling, and I could feel my cheeks blushing again as I looked at him.
“Come here,” he said. “I want to do something I shouldn’t do.”
A thrill ran through me as he reached out, putting a finger through one of my belt loops and tugging me close to him. He ran the back of his fingers across my jaw.
“I see you blushing,” he said, his voice low and gravelly.
I took a deep breath. He was so close to me now, and I could smell his cut-wood scent. His deep eyes met my gaze and held it, all sleepy and half-lidded like they always were.