Dawn's Early Light
Page 11
“Ow!”
Hayley couldn’t restrain the bark of laughter that escaped. “I stitched you up with no anesthesia and instead you yelp at a poke?”
“It hurt.”
“Get. Up!” She snagged his hand and pulled. He went with her this time but swayed on his feet. “Bath, no shower. Keep your foot dry. And for God’s sake, brush your teeth. When’s the last time you ate?”
He shrugged but didn’t move. His eyes weren’t entirely clear and Hayley realized he was still way beyond drunk.
It wasn’t like she hadn’t seen him naked before. “Come on,” she whispered, slipping her arm beneath his once more. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”
She couldn’t explain the source of the burn behind her eyes or why her chest felt suddenly tight as she staggered up the stairs with him. But the bleak look in his eyes was enough to send fear down her spine to slide between her ribs and squeeze her heart.
Chapter 31
SOMEWHERE, BURIED IN the logical part of her brain, she knew she should leave. But logic never really won where Cam was concerned. She could not turn her back on Cam. Not now. Not after…after what?
They’d shared a few hours in bed. A week getting reacquainted.
Then he’d lost his shit at the parade.
Hours had passed. She’d gone to the house to check on the puppies, then come back to sit with him.
Because she couldn’t leave him alone.
The moon came and went, sliding behind the trees. He must have dozed off because she couldn’t hear a thing, and he was not a quiet drunk.
It was morning before he slipped from the bed and crept downstairs. She waited a little while, then followed him into the kitchen. He was cradling a mason jar full of water like it was the last liquid on earth.
It was a long time before he looked at her. “This is me, Hayley. Most people don’t wake up in the morning, look in the mirror, and tell themselves they’re messed up. But I do. I see the train wreck of my life. And I’m just along for the ride until it finishes derailing.” He held his hands wide open. “I thought I was keeping everything together. Guess not, huh?”
The desolate wasteland in his voice stunned her to absolute silence.
“You want to know what it’s like?”
The emptiness in his eyes was rivaled only by the rage she saw peeking out from the darkness.
“You want to know what I am?”
She couldn’t nod. She couldn’t move.
She stood there, frozen.
And waited.
Chapter 32
“THERE WERE A lot of times I didn’t think I was coming home,” he said softly. “There’s a big part of me that believes I don’t deserve to be here.”
He could see the muscles in her jaw flexing as she ground her teeth. He wasn’t sure what she was biting back, whether it was tears or anger. He deserved both but he wanted her anger.
Anger he could deal with. Anger he could process and react to and absorb.
He couldn’t handle her tears.
Cam looked away and pushed on, needing to get everything out before he froze up again. “I’m a rifle squad leader. Correction. I was a rifle squad leader. I didn’t sit on the FOB and play spades.” He looked away before she could see the longing that filled him.
He’d liked being a squad leader. He’d enjoyed being part of a platoon of guys that got to shoot things and blow stuff up. People didn’t understand why men wanted to be infantry, but to him, it had been fun punctuated by sheer terror.
“I do miss it. It’s part of me. And when Milo…when he put up that picture of Melanie…I lost it. He’s never stood on a ramp ceremony. He’s never gone to a memorial. It was a cheap political stunt and I…I snapped.”
Finally he looked back up at her. “I’m sorry I hit you.”
She offered a watery smile. “Didn’t even leave a mark. Just knocked my sunglasses off.” She looked down at her hands. “But I was afraid you were going to kill your cousin.”
“I wanted to,” he admitted. “People don’t understand why we go, what we do. It’s not some noble cause. Some notion of being a patriot or anything like that.
“It’s the belonging. The feeling that you’re needed. Like you’re part of something more.
“When I saw Melanie’s picture…I can’t describe the rage I felt. The violation. The wrongness of it. Those people don’t know how it feels to be a soldier. What right do they have?”
Hayley reached out and cupped his cheeks, her fingertips tracing the scar on his forehead. She leaned forward and pressed her lips to the other one splitting his cheek.
He looked up at her. “Go ahead. You know you want to ask about them. You want to know about the scars on my back, too?”
The hurt in her deep green eyes had faded to something else but she shook her head slowly. “I don’t care where they came from. I don’t need to know. If you want to tell me you can. But I’m not going to ask.”
He swallowed at the sudden dryness in his mouth. He hadn’t expected her response and it cut him deeply. “I hurt you.”
She shrugged. “It could have been worse. You could be in jail right now and I could be trying to sneak in for a conjugal visit.”
He laughed and shook his head, and she reached up to cradle his cheeks in her palms. The silence wrapped around them, blocking out the world. “It’s taken me a long time to get over the hurt of losing my dad,” she whispered.
He opened his mouth to speak and she stopped him.
“I lost you right after him. I can’t fix you. And I’m not going to pretend that magical sex is going to cure everything.” She pressed her lips to his. “But I can stay with you.
“When you’re awake at night, hold onto me. When the nightmares come, I’ll be there. And when you need space, I’m strong enough to give you that, too.” She closed her eyes. “But I’m not strong enough to let you go. I’m not strong enough to let you walk through this alone.”
This momentary feeling of peace wasn’t going to last. He knew that, and still, he couldn’t let her go. When he was with her, he believed he had a chance at civilian life.
He sighed and felt her stir against him.
“I don’t deserve you,” he whispered against her hair. “But I want this. I want a chance with you. I want a chance at normal.”
“I can’t promise you normal,” she whispered. “But we can give it a shot.” She brushed her lips against his.
It wasn’t a promise of forever. It wasn’t even a guarantee of tomorrow.
But for the moment, it was enough.
About the Author
Jessica Scott is an Iraq war veteran, an active-duty Army officer, and the USA Today best-selling author of novels set in the heart of America’s army. She is the mother of two daughters, three cats, and three dogs, and wife to a retired NCO. She’s also written for the New York Times’s At War blog, PBS’s Point of View regarding war, strategy bridge, and IAVA. She deployed to Iraq in 2009 as part of Operation Iraqi Freedom (OIF)/New Dawn and has had the honor of serving twice as a company commander at Fort Hood, Texas. She holds a PhD in sociology from Duke University and she’s been featured as one of Esquire’s Americans of the Year for 2012.
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