The traffic this early is sparse, and I’m at Erin’s apartment just over half an hour later, juggling hot coffee and breakfast as I knock on the door.
It opens and Jamie stands there in short denim shorts, a little white tank top, her hair down in a messy tangle around her face, and her hand gripping the doorknob as if it’s keeping her upright. She also has sunglasses covering half her face. She tilts her head up to look at me. “Brooks.”
“Murphy.” I mock squint. “Is that you under all the hair and shades?”
“Funny.” Her nostrils flare as she breathes deep. “You brought coffee.”
“I said I would.”
She steps back, waving an arm out wide. “You may enter.”
I walk inside. It’s not a large apartment, but it’s classy. The kitchen cupboards are bright white, the counter a glossy granite and overlooks the living area. The coffee table is decorated with used shot glasses, a half-empty bottle of vodka, and an almost empty bowl of crackers; only the dregs remain.
The couch is a light beige fabric and covered in blankets and a squashed pillow. “You slept on the couch?” I ask, setting my goodies down on the kitchen counter, along with my wallet and keys.
“Wood did. I shared a bed with Erin.”
I grin and waggle my eyebrows. “Did you now?”
“Oh stop it and give me one of those coffees.”
I grab one from the tray and hold it aloft. “Only if you give me a hug.”
“We may be friends, but we’re not the hugging kind.”
“We are the hugging kind because I just said so. Now give me one before I drink all the coffee and leave you with none.”
“It’s too early to be a bossy asshole,” she complains.
“Just like it’s too early to be a stubborn poophead.”
Jamie huffs and slides one arm around my middle, giving me a weak squeeze before letting go. “There. Now gimme.”
I sigh and hand it over. “That was pathetic.”
“You’re pathetic,” she retorts before taking a sip and groaning like it’s manna from Heaven.
I take another coffee from the tray, her insult sliding off like Teflon. “Where’s Wood and Erin?” I ask as she shuffles towards the couch like an old woman, fingers curled around her takeout cup.
“The beach. They’ve gone for an early swim. Wood couldn’t wait to get in the ocean, and Erin wanted to clear her head after our drinking fest last night. She has to work today.”
I follow, walking over to the window and peeling back the blinds. Jamie hisses like a vampire and scrunches herself back into the cushions. I turn around and chuckle at her whimpering form.
“That was mean, Brooks.”
“What? It’s a beautiful day outside. Not a cloud in the sky. Let’s have something to eat and go for a walk.”
She shuts me down. “No.”
“C’mon. The fresh air will help your hangover.”
“I’m not hungover,” she croaks. “Just tired.”
I take a seat beside her, setting my coffee on the little table in front of me. I flick the ridiculous sunglasses from her face. They’re not hers. It’s not her style, so they must belong to Erin.
“Wow,” I say quietly and brush my hand across her cheek, looking into her eyes. They’re red and slitted, and even the bags beneath them have bags. “You look like hell.”
Jamie turns her head away and looks out the window. “Well that’s not nice.”
I rise from the couch and collect the box of pastries from the counter. I bully her into eating one while I take the other three. We finish our coffees and after putting the rubbish in the bin, I take her hands and pull her to her feet.
She sighs deeply. “You’re such a bully.”
“Yeah, what an asshole. Bringing you breakfast and making you eat it. I should be shot.”
We both pause at the horrible slip, and I don’t miss the pain that flickers across her face before it disappears. Her voice wavers. “I don’t want to be here, Brooks.”
“What do you mean?” My brows pull together. “Here? In Erin’s apartment?”
“No.” She shakes her head. “Here.”
“Perth?”
“Australia. I want to go back to Afghanistan.”
I suck in a breath. “Why?”
“I feel like I don’t belong here. They said it would take time to adjust being back home, but on base is where most of my memories of Jake are. Being here makes it feel like I’m losing him.”
“Jamie,” I say quietly, tugging her close. I wrap my arms around her while hers remain limp at her side. She feels fragile against me, as if her bones will shatter like glass at any moment. I press my lips to the top of her head, breathing in the vanilla scent of her hair, along with the overpowering odour of booze and crackers. I’m pretty sure there’s a few crumbs lodged in the strands around her scalp. “You can’t lose the memories inside your heart.” The words feel like an empty platitude, but I don’t know what else to say. Jake is gone and it’s just too fucking hard to take.
“I know that,” she retorts, her voice muffled as she speaks into my chest. “It’s just … I feel this weird kind of panic whenever I think of him. So it’s easier not to. But that means pushing him out, and—”
“And that’s why you feel like you’re losing him.”
“Yes.” Her fingers clutch at the sides of my shirt. “Stupid, huh?”
“There’s no such thing as stupid when it comes to grief. We all deal with it in our own way.”
Jamie releases my shirt and steps free of my hold. “How do you deal with yours?”
“Shitty wisecracks and a loud attitude apparently,” I mutter.
“What?”
“Nothing.” I turn her around and nudge her towards the solitary little bedroom in the whole shoebox of an apartment. “Go get some shoes on your feet. We’re going walking.”
We’re gone for almost two hours, walking along the Swan River. I have to keep slowing my pace. Jamie’s handicapped by her shorter frame and her hangover. We don’t talk much, but it’s a comfortable silence. When we return, Erin has already been and gone to work, and Wood has messaged Jamie to let her know he’s gone out for groceries.
“What do you want to do now?”
Jamie toes off her shoes by the front door. “Shower and sleep.”
“We can do that.”
“You don’t have to stay.”
“You kicking me out?”
She looks at me. “No. But I don’t need you spending your day off babysitting me.”
“True.” I shrug. “And you are kind of a bore.”
“Speak for yourself,” she retorts.
I go to the fridge and grab a couple of waters, handing her one before I crack the lid on mine and tip my head back, throat working as I guzzle half the bottle in one go. When I straighten, Jamie’s looking at me. “What?”
“You look just how I expected you would in all my years of imagining it. I can’t believe I didn’t see it when I met you over on base.”
I waggle my brows. “You imagined how I looked? Were they sexy images?” My lids lower to half-mast. “I’m betting they were.”
“Stop!” Jamie cries, laughter sputtering from her lips. “We’re not like that!”
I chuckle. “I know.” I take another sip of my water. “Go shower, stinky.”
She walks off with an eye roll.
“Try not to think of me while you’re soaping yourself up in the shower!” I call to her back.
Another laugh. “Gross, Brooks.”
I take a seat on the couch, playing on my phone while she cleans up. Getting bored of the game, I send a message to Ryan.
Kyle: Dinged your car. Oops.
His reply is instantaneous and makes me laugh.
Ryan: What the fuck?
Kyle: Yeah, sorry ’bout that. It’s pretty bad. We hit a roo.
Ryan: You WHAT?
Kyle: You know kangaroos, right? The furry things that hop about the co
untryside eating grass and leaves and shit.
He seems to cotton on then, realising I’m just stirring up shit.
Ryan: You’re such a motherfucker.
Kyle: You should have seen your face!
Ryan: You know you can’t actually see my face, asshole.
Kyle: I know. But I’m betting it’s good.
Ryan: You’re never borrowing my car again. You know that, right?
Kyle: Don’t be a baby.
He stops talking to me after that, and I set my phone down, realising the shower has stopped and the bedroom door is closed. I get up and knock gently. Jamie doesn’t answer, so I open the door slowly, prepared for a shoe to come flying at my face because she’s in the process of getting dressed, but it doesn’t happen.
I peek in. She’s on the bed, lying on her belly, braless in another white tank top and pale pink underwear that highlights the curve of a round, toned backside. A gentle snore emits from her lips.
I walk over and take a seat on the edge, kicking off my shoes. I peel off my shirt and climb on beside her, bunching the pillow beneath my head. As if sensing the warm, heavy weight at her side, she snuggles close, burrowing in just a little. It feels nice, so I close my eyes.
I’m woken by a hand on my shoulder, giving me a gentle shake.
Fuck.
I come awake with a start, reaching for the gun beneath my pillow. It’s not there. I turn, coming face to face with a pretty blonde. I open my mouth to speak, and she puts a finger to her lips, tipping her head at the sleeping form beside me.
Nodding my understanding, I peel myself from the bed, nice and slow, as if Jamie is a bomb about to detonate at the slightest provocation.
After tugging on my shirt, I check the time on my watch. Jesus, it’s five p.m. We’ve been asleep for hours.
Shutting the door behind me, I follow the blonde out. She continues to the kitchen, where Wood stands by the stovetop, pushing something around in a frypan with a pair of tongs.
“Good to see you back, Wood,” I tell him, reaching out a hand.
He shakes it. “You too, mate,” he says and goes back to his sizzling pan.
I give my attention to the female beside him. “You must be Erin.”
A chopping board sits on the counter in front her, vegetables chopped in a pile on its surface and a very sharp looking knife beside it. She picks it up. “And you must be the infamous Bear.”
I wince. Erin was there when I left, and she was probably just as pissed about it as Jamie was. Still, I offer a hand in an effort to be polite. “I’m Kyle.”
She looks at it as if it’s an insect that crawled into her neat pile of broccoli. Wood gives her a nudge, and she sets her deadly weapon down and takes my hand with a sniff. “Erin.”
“The only reason she’s not stabbing you right now is because Jamie’s sleeping like the dead,” Wood tells me as he turns pieces of browned chicken over with his tongs.
My brows pull together. “What do you mean?”
“It’s been a long time since she’s slept like this,” Wood admits, his eyes flicking towards the bedroom, worried about being overheard. “We think it might be because you were with her.”
My brows pull together. I don’t like the idea of her not being able to sleep. “You think?”
Erin sighs, a heavy, unhappy sound. “It seems so.”
I give her my attention, knowing I need to do the right thing and clear the air between us. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry, Erin. I shouldn’t have left Jamie the way I did.”
“Your apology isn’t worth shit,” Erin snaps. “Jamie cancelled her sixteenth birthday party because of you.” She picks up the knife and severs a carrot in half. “You know how often every little girl dreams of her sixteenth birthday?”
“Erin,” Wood says in a tone of rebuke. “You know Jamie wasn’t the kind to dream about parties.”
“Well, I dreamt about the party for her. Planned it. Helped her pick out a dress to wear that cost her more money than she ever dared to spend.” The knife points in my direction. “You didn’t see the way her eyes lit up when she tried it on because it didn’t just make her look beautiful, it made her feel beautiful too.” Erin huffs and goes back to chopping her carrots until they’re lying in a little butchered heap. “Then she never showed up at my house, so I had to go looking for her. I found her sitting on the floor of her bedroom, your stupid letter clutched in her hand. We had to cancel the whole thing. Do you know how that made me feel? I was the one who convinced her to invite you because she was scared you would reject her. Reject her!” Erin says with a harsh snort. Shame sours my stomach like curdled milk. “Only you did worse than that. You fucking left her!” Her words lash me like a whip across my back. “I was the one who stuck around to pick up the pieces while you—”
“Enough!” We all turn at the blunt sound. Jamie is standing by the door in her tank top and knickers, hair mussed and face pale.
“Now you’ve gone and woken her!” Erin snaps.
“Erin!” Jamie walks over, eyes on her friend, her voice sharper than the knife now resting on the chopping board. “Can you imagine what it would be like for you if I died in Afghanistan? How would you feel if I never made it home?”
Erin pauses as if imagining just that. Her bottom lip quavers. “I’m not sure I’d handle it, to be honest.”
Jamie jabs a finger in my direction. “That’s how Kyle is feeling right now. One of his best friends just died right in front of him, and while I appreciate you sticking up for me, it’s unnecessary, and your timing is horrible. He doesn’t need your shit right now.”
Erin pales as if slapped. She looks at me after a long moment, regret burning bright in her eyes. “I’m sorry.”
My jaw works. Jamie’s arrival back in Perth had kept my grief deep below the murky waters for most of the day. Not taking up all my thoughts for once. It had been like it used to be when we were younger, talking and teasing, with me pretending everything was okay. But now the grief is rising all over again. I swallow, wanting to say something flippant. Joke it off like I always do. But I can’t. My heart is aching too much right now.
“Forget it,” I rasp and reach for my wallet and keys. “I should get going.”
“Kyle, wait!” Erin calls out.
I wave her off without turning around. I open the door and step outside the apartment and into the hall. Jamie follows, shutting the door behind us. She grabs for my hand. I tug it free. I can’t handle her gentle touch right now. I’m pretty sure I’ll fall apart if she so much as wraps her fingers around mine.
“I’m sorry,” she says. “I wasn’t expecting Erin to unleash like that. I mean, I knew she was pissed when you left, but she never said anything more about it. I figured she was over it.”
I jab at the down button for the lift. “I’m pretty sure she’s not.”
“I won’t ask you to stay, but can I see you tomorrow?”
“It’s Monday tomorrow. I have work,” I say to the lift doors as they open with a ding.
“Maybe later?”
I step inside and turn. “A long day of work,” I emphasise, being harsh with her in my need to escape and lick my wounds.
“Kyle, please.” Her eyes are dark and pleading, and dammit, I fold like a cheap suit.
“Dinner,” I say, jabbing the button for the ground floor as the doors begin to close. “I’ll pick you up.”
21
KYLE
This feels weird,” Jamie declares as we arrive at a romantic candlelit table, led there by a waiter who’s too busy flourishing proper linen napkins and brandishing hardcover menus to notice our bemused expressions. The restaurant lighting is so dim I’m surprised the couples seated at the surrounding tables are able to read them. “Like a date.”
Pink rose centrepieces fill delicate crystal vases, and music plays softly in the background. I’m pretty sure it’s the theme song to Titanic. Celine Dion is giving her all (albeit softly due to the low volume), zealously let
ting us know that her heart will go on and on and on.
“Incredibly weird,” I agree, wincing as the waiter pulls out Jamie’s seat.
She sits down, giving him a baleful glare as he tries to lay a napkin in her lap. She snatches it from his outstretched hand, muttering, “I can do that, thank you very much.”
The whole situation is more awkward than the time when I was thirteen and tried to tongue kiss Margaret Ainsworth (an older woman at fourteen) for the first time and accidently gave her a sloppy lick on the nose. To give me a bit of credit, we were out the back of the rugby sheds after a night game and it was pitch black. I couldn’t actually see where her lips were. Though I probably shouldn’t have come at her like a dog, my mouth wide open and tongue hanging out.
I talked up a big game, but I’d never actually kissed a girl before then. My sexual experience at that point was relegated to feverish little nocturnal emissions with my hand beneath the heavy blankets of my bed.
Margaret avoided me forever after that night, and everyone at school wanted to know why. I never thanked her for not blabbing, but I figured it was in her best interests not to. Who would admit to getting licked on the nose? It spoke of her lack of experience when she gagged and rubbed at her face, running off into the night rather than taking pity on me and giving me a few pointers.
“Sorry.” I give the waiter an apologetic look and take Jamie’s hand, tugging her from the delicate wooden chair. The heavy napkin drops from her lap and lands beneath the table. “Let’s get out of here.”
We flee the restaurant as if our asses are on fire, laughing like naughty school kids skipping class.
“What made you pick that place?” she asks as we start down the street.
“I didn’t. Ryan said it was …” My eyes narrow and my lips pinch tight. “Sonofabitch.” I tug my phone free of my pocket and tap out a message, keeping it direct and to the point.
Kyle: You’ll pay for this, asshole.
Ryan: You should see your face!
Kyle: Har har
I deserved that. That’s the problem with dishing out shit. You have to be prepared for it to come back tenfold.
Fighting Absolution Page 20