Watching the sun rise from the back of the boat I’ve gone over what happened a million times in my head and one thing is clear.
Whatever chance I had with Celia I blew last night.
After I scared the shit out of her she selflessly let me inside her, allowed me to do exactly what the therapists say I should never do.
I used her as a diversion—a warm body to help wash away the images of all the dead ones that haunt the backs of my eyelids.
I haven’t had a night terror that bad in a long time. I don’t know what brought it on. The downed helicopter I obsessed about yesterday was the farthest thing from my mind when I finally fell asleep last night. Maybe that was the problem, that I’d let myself relax more than I should have. Who fucking knows, but it doesn’t change the fact that I woke up beating the shit out of my bed with Celia beneath me.
I clench my fists. I was stupid to think I’d be able to be with her for even a few days without her knowing what a fuckup I am. Wrecked beyond repair. Not fit for civilian life.
My skin crawls as I hear her feet padding through the boat’s cabin, knowing I’m going to have to face what went down, drag the ugly into the light. Her footsteps get closer until she’s outside and I can practically feel her breathing against my shoulder. Fuck, but I can’t even look at her I’m so damn ashamed.
“Good morning,” she whispers.
I lick my lips, and as much as I wish I could avoid her, I can’t. She deserves to know what happened last night. I peer up at her and she’s wearing shorts and the tank top she put on after I selfishly used her last night. Another thing I hated, having to watch her cover her body before crawling back into bed with me, putting a barrier between us. Not that I didn’t deserve it. “Hey.”
Her eyebrows are dropped low as if she’s worried. She turns to pull a chair close and the sight of her back has me grit my teeth so hard I see fucking stars.
“Aw shit, Celia.” Unable to stomach the evidence of what I’d done I turn away. “Fuck.”
“What?” There’s concern in her voice.
“Your back.” I spit the words to the bay, avoiding the purple bruise that mars her shoulder blade.
“Don’t, listen, I have fair skin. I bruise really easily. It wasn’t that bad I—”
I stand up so fast she stumbles backward. “Don’t make excuses for me.”
She swallows hard and stares up at me with eyes wide as saucers. “You were dreaming.”
“It doesn’t matter, my God, look at your . . .” I tilt my head when something on her arm catches my eye. “That me too?” I nod to her arm, then see another mark on her other biceps. “I beat the shit out of you.”
She shakes her head and steps close, but I hold up a hand and move back. “No, you didn’t.”
“And there?” I point to the discoloring on her thigh.
“Aden, just tell me what happened, okay? I know you’d never hurt me.”
“How can you say that? Look at you!”
She doesn’t look, but she doesn’t say a word either. Looking is probably unnecessary as I’m sure she can feel the damage.
“I’m so fucking sorry. You shouldn’t have been here for that.”
“Been here for what? A nightmare? How could you have known that was coming?” She comes at me again but this time I don’t have the self-restraint to stop her. I want to fall into her arms and never come up for air, absorbing the sweet medication of her touch.
I look around to see a few people on the docks watching us a little too closely. “Let’s go inside.”
She seems surprised by my request, obviously unaware of the suffocating threat creeping in on us. No one ever sees it. I know it’s a figment of my imagination but I can’t help feeling the need to be on guard all the fucking time.
I head in and she follows. I motion for her to sit on the couch. She lowers herself without taking her eyes off mine as they beg for me to explain. I lean against the small kitchen island and cross my arms over my chest as if I can hold myself together when I’m this close to losing what little control I have left.
Her body language is far from relaxed, and it might have something to do with the fact that I can’t stop glaring at the dark marks I put on her body.
“What is it?”
I lick my lips and clear my throat, struggling to get those first few words out of my mouth. “My job in the Special Forces was to train Iraqi and Kurdish soldiers to protect their country against the ISIL.”
“Go on.”
I hadn’t realized I’d stopped talking as my head throws me back, slamming me into the past.
“I can’t give you everything, I can’t . . .” Talk about it. “I don’t like going back there.”
“I understand,” she whispers.
“I trusted the wrong person and because of that I sent my men to the ground.”
She grimaces in what I’m sure is disgust, the reason I know is because I’m just as disgusted with myself. “Oh, Aden . . .”
“They had wives, kids, one of them was engaged to be married the month after our tour was up.” I shake my head as the weight of it all comes back to hang heavy on my neck. I can’t do this, not now, not with her. She’ll hate me if she knows. I hate my-fucking-self!
“You dream about them.”
“No.” It takes all the strength I have to look up at her. “I dream about killing the rat who betrayed me.”
Her jaw falls loose on its hinges.
“I dream about crushing his skull with my bare hands.” My fists clench as the adrenaline reignites my hate. “That corrupt fucker got away and I buried my men all because he lied and I didn’t see through his bullshit.”
“Aden—”
“It was my job to protect my men!” I pound my fist into my chest. “Mine! And I failed them. Widows and fatherless children are out there because of me!”
Her face drains of color.
I rub my eyes with both hands and try to cool my temper. “He lied and I’d give up everything I have to make him pay.”
Her throat bobs with a heavy swallow.
“Fool me once. I will never be deceived again.” I blink in an attempt to clear the fog of fury from my vision. I slow my breathing, calm my ass down because I’m clearly scaring the shit out of Celia. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to scare you.”
She shakes her head and studies the floor, unable to look at me. “It’s . . . no, it’s fine, I just . . . that had to be horrible for you.”
Once my pulse slows to a reasonable rate I cross to her and drop to a squat at her feet. Her eyes come to mine, but they’re cautious. Tentative.
“I don’t expect you to be okay with this. I was hoping to keep my shit together for however long we’d be hanging out, but you saw for yourself, I have no control over it.”
“They call you Sergeant Psycho.” She immediately covers her mouth as if she didn’t mean to say that out loud.
My lips pull up at the sides on their own accord. “They’re probably right.”
“The guys who broke into the cottage, you beat them up.”
Not a question, clearly she’s been talking to others about me. “I did.” I shrug. “I can’t say I regret it.”
She rubs her neck. “And the cab driver?”
Fuckin’ hell. My jaw locks down and I push back up to standing and cross to the opposite side of the small cabin.
“Aden—”