And yet we have no future. Do we? I don’t let myself think about it much. After that night by the fire when I told her everything, things have been…great. I almost don’t let myself think it.
I wasn’t lying when I told Olivia that back in Afghanistan, we were worried we’d jinx the situation if we actually acknowledged the bad stuff. And now? Now I’m even more terrified that I’ll jinx what Olivia and I have by talking about the good stuff.
And it is good. It’s all good. The sex, the talking, the shared runs. I even adore her special style of cuddling, just as long as her limbs avoid my vital parts. She’s everything to me.
But I don’t talk about it. I can’t.
“Ugh, do not start that brooding thing,” Kali says, taking a sip of my beer. “Do you have any idea how much you’ve changed since that first night you walked into my bar when you picked a fight with a bunch of drunken hotshots? Don’t you dare go backward on us now.”
Olivia lets out an outraged groan from the dartboard, and I shake my head when I realize that despite the dedicated tutoring of Darcy “Dart” Martinez, Kali is right. Olivia’s actually getting worse.
She’s having fun, though. And, surprisingly, so am I.
“Much better,” Kali says, waving her finger in the direction of my smile. “You do that every time you look at her, you know. Smile.”
I push her hand away. “Stop, you’re starting to sound like a bad valentine.”
Kali flops back in her chair. “It’s just so romantic. The beautiful angel swooping in to save the surly dickwad who’s quite possibly a murderous recluse.”
“Ugly. Don’t forget ugly,” I say without heat.
“Nah,” she says, nodding in thanks as one of her employees brings her a rum and Diet Coke. “You were way too pretty before. It was even hard to eat with all that nauseating perfection around. Now you’ve got a bit of character. It looks good on you.”
“You flirting with me, Kal?”
“Not today. Although I admit I did have a few fantasies about you coming across me after all these years and fainting over my beauty, realizing that I was the one all along.”
“Yeah?” I ask, giving her a wary look. Kali has always had this sort of unnerving way of speaking in a really sweet, genuine voice, and you get reeled in only to realize that she was yanking your chain the whole time.
“Sort of,” she replies with a quick smile. “But let’s just say I gave up on that fantasy a couple of months after your dad bought the summer home you used to rent. I kept thinking that one day you’d show up at Frenchy’s or my front door. But you never did. You never even called.”
I wince. “I’m sorry.”
The words don’t feel like enough. She was once a good friend, and I shut her out the way I shut everyone out. I don’t know how to explain how lost I was—at this point, anything I say will merely sound like an excuse. And I don’t know how to explain what changed.
I don’t know how to tell someone, even a good friend like Kali, that something as simple as Olivia’s touch and smile melted away what so many psychiatrist appointments had failed to do.
“I’m sorry,” I say again.
Kali puts her hand on mine briefly. “It’s okay,” she says. “I’ll just say it’s good to see you, and leave it at that.”
I give her a smile of gratitude. Not just at her understanding, but at the way she’s brought both me and Olivia into her social circle. For the first time in years, I have friends. Just a handful of guys to grab a beer with, and we’re not like braiding each other’s hair or anything, but they knew me back before I was an ugly bastard and don’t seem to mind that I’m not as pretty anymore.
Olivia all but skips over to our table, thrilled because one dart made contact with the board. Barely.
“I think I’m getting better!” she chirps.
“No,” Kali says, taking a sip of her drink. “You’ve been in four times this week, and you’ve literally shown no improvement. It’s incredible, actually.”