“Yeah, actually it is. Ninety-nine percent of all relationship problems are caused by lack of communication.” He pauses, his expression sobering. “Look, I know I’m jerking your chain. But maybe figuring out how to talk to this chick about this might not be a bad idea. Take some of the performance anxiety out of the equation.” He drags one hand over his head. “I’m assuming this hasn’t been brought up, either? With docs? About the war or anything?”
“Nah. I gave up after the first time when they gave me the Viagra. Just you guys here. That’s all I need.” I look away from my phone, toward the door of the bar, hoping that Abby would by some miracle walk through the door and chase away the uncertainty that's making me crazy. "Why did you start this place up here? I mean, it's a college town. There aren't that many of us around here."
He dumps ice into an orange glass pitcher. Because plastic wouldn't be eclectic enough. Not for this town. "That's exactly why. There are plenty of places for guys like us to hang our hats down at Bragg or back at Hood. But here? There are more of us here than people realize. And we need each other. We always will." He looks toward the door. "No one else gets it when you talk about not being able to feel close to the person you love. Or why your temper just snaps for no f*ck
ing reason." He hesitates. “Or understands when your dick doesn’t work, that it’s not actually as simple as a little Viagra mixed with porn to fix what ails you.” He looks back at me. "And I didn't want to be around all the shitbag wannabes running their mouths down at Bragg about what they did. I wanted to be somewhere where what I did matters."
He sounds like my old platoon sergeant. "Man, you sure you weren't an NCO in another life?"
Eli shakes his head. "Nah. That was my dad." He places two shot glasses on the counter. "Why are you all freaked out about this girl?"
Pale golden liquid splashes on the bar as he fills the glasses.
"She's…special."
"Clearly. Otherwise you wouldn't be sitting here moping because you can’t get it up and you’re letting it ruin your relationship before it even gets started." He pours a shot for both of us. At this rate, I'll be asleep in an hour. Which is good. Because when I pass out, I don't have any dreams that twist into nightmares.
You don't really appreciate sleep until you don't have a choice to have it on a regular basis.
"I'm a little bit f*ck
ed up," I admit after I choke down the second shot.
"Aren't we all?"
I shake my head. "Not like that." I can't say the words. I can't put the psychological bullshit into words.
The docs said it was temporary. That it wouldn't last.
But it's been a year.
A f*ck
ing year since I felt anything but a shadow of my former self.
I hold out the shot glass and Eli refills it. Because that's the kind of friend Eli has become. It's a slow burn this time, sliding through my veins with liquid heat.
"I'm not going to judge. We all have to confront our shit when we're ready," he says.
I look up at him again. "What if we're never ready?"
"Then do what you can. And hope that you can lighten the load enough that the stuff you can't offload doesn't get too heavy."
"Have you?"
"Have I what?" he asks, pouring a fourth shot for each of us. Man but he can f*ck
ing drink. I’m going to start slurring soon.
"Unpacked everything."
He shakes his head slowly. "Not even close."
I look down into the empty shot glass. There's a tiny amount of liquid gold at the bottom and it makes me think of Abby's dark golden eyes.
I wish she was here. Close enough to feel her heart beating beneath my palm, her hair soft against my cheek. I want to wake up with her in my arms and hold her as I fall asleep.
And I can't. I'll never be able to love her right.
And she deserves better than that.
Abby
Class has been cancelled for the last two days—oddly enough, due to unknown reasons. The running theory is that Quinn ate some bad cilantro at one of the local chain restaurants. Cue smugness that he should have been eating locally, from several of my classmates.
Either way, it bought me time to figure out what to do with the twisted mess inside me where Josh is concerned.
Because make no mistake—there is a mess.
I close my eyes, regret bolting through me that I ran him off.
“You look like hell.”
I open my eyes to see Graham standing in the doorway of the break room. He’s normally perky and upbeat on the worst of days but right now, he’s got a look around him that I’ve come to know all too well. “And you look like you just hooked up.”
He grins wickedly. “Maybe I’ve met a vegan body builder.”
“And Mr. Wonderful rocked your world?”
“Very much so.” And Graham does something a little unexpected. He blushes—and Graham is about the most confident, non-blushing person I know.
“Oh, this is getting a little serious, isn’t it?” I ask. It’s easy to be happy for Graham. He’s got more reasons than most to be jaded and cynical, but he’s not. And I think that’s one of the things I love about him.