Page 25

Part of me—in the weeks following my return from Iraq—on those sleepless nights, I’d lie awake in that hospital bed fearing the darkness of the night and would wonder what it would be like if they had left me there. If I hadn’t been rescued. I wouldhave died, I knew that, but would that have been easier than this? Had the soldiers who died gotten the easier side of this life after war?
Folding my arms behind my head, I lean back on the bed. After another twenty minutes of staring at the ceiling, sleep still doesn’t come for me so I sit down at the piano. The grand structure has occupied this room as far back as I can remember. It’s shiny black, a row of ivory keys reflecting the light from my lamp.
The moment my fingertips dance over the porcelain, I’m reminded of the sound and how much I enjoy playing.
When I was stationed in New Mexico, I was able to play every day until I left for Iraq. Everyday seemed impossibly more monotonous than the last and it became something I did to pass the time. I guess in a way, that’s what I’m doing. Passing time from one moment to the next with no inclination at what any of it means.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
I don’t look up. Not right away. I allow myself a second. My knee bounces, a warmth spreading through my body. There’s a quick jolt to my chest, my heartbeat quickening as I glance over my shoulder at the window. My smile happens instantly. She’s like coming up for air. I know, horribly cheesy and I want to punch myself for it, but until you’ve been where I have, and seen the things I’ve seen, you can’t, nor will you ever understand how it feels to have someone like her.
Twisting around, I see her standing outside the window, frowning with her hand planted on her hip. Smiling, I make my way over to the window and push it open. I stand against the wall with my shoulder pressed into my old dresser. “Took you long enough,” I tease, wondering if she’s going to find humor in my words. The Evie I used to know, she’s going to punch me in the stomach after saying that. But then I remember,I don’t know this her anymore. I know the eighteen-year-old girl I left.
She darts her head up. “Took you three years,” she chides, giving a coy smile.
Knowing I deserve that, I chuckle at her response. As she hikes one leg over the window ledge, I notice she’s still wearing that dress from earlier.
Fuck me.
I sigh and try to ease the tension between us. “Had that coming I guess.” I sweep my hand over the back of my neck, agreeing with her. I back up and take a seat on the bench again. She hesitates to move from her place near the window, her hands tugging at the hem of the dress.
I take her hand and pull her with me, needing to be touching her in some way.
She releases what sounds like a pained laugh. “By the way,” she whispers, sitting down next to me. Sighing, she lays her head on my shoulder. “You were great out there tonight. You definitely didn’t lose your touch, did you?”
I don’t look at her. I’m not sure I can. And then I think,I lost it with you though. Because I had, hadn’t I? She wouldn’t have left with Shane if I had.
I wrap my arm around her waist and draw her closer so our bodies are touching. It’s then I finally work up the courage to meet her eyes. Has she always been this way? So consuming in her beauty. Without looking at the keys, I press down on them and begin a soft melody she knows well. Her smile is instant.
When I’m finished, her tender smile fades and she moves away from me. Fear hits my chest that she’s going to leave. Her touch on my shoulder lingers and sweeps over the curve of my bicep.
To my surprise, she curls up on my bed, staring at me expectantly and pats the side next to her. “Come over here.”
Weariness lodges in my throat and if I had to guess, there’s probably a flush to my cheeks at the way my body heats up. Themattress dips and creaks as I lie next to her, unsure what this means. The last time we were on this bed, well, you know how that played out. If it came to that again, would I act on it?
It’s been three years. What do you think?
My heart pounds in my chest, my eyes heavy, trying to fight through the medication I now regret taking.
On her side, Evie curls one hand under her cheek and watches me. “You’re still so pretty,” she says with a laugh, touching my face with the other hand. She knows how often my sisters used to say that to me and it’s become a joke over the years.
Blinking slowly, a smile quirks my lips, momentarily distracted by the way her breasts are practically hanging out of the top of her dress. “I could say the same about you.”
Her grin forms, but she fights it off, trying to pretend she doesn’t find it funny. “Could or would?”
“I think you know the answer.” I reach forward, my thumb tracing her lips. I’ve had a tremendous void in my life without her in it and now that she’s this close, I don’t know how to react to her. After a few minutes, I have to ask the question that’s burning a hole in my gut and head. “Shane Lawson?” I ask. “Come on, Evie. You can do better than him.”
“Yeah, I thought so too, but then you left so I guess I chose whatever came around.”
Fuck, that one hurts worse than I thought it would. I deserve that, I do, but it doesn’t make it any easier. Anger rushes through me and turns my tone bitter. “The Evie I knew wouldn’t settle on someone who treats her like shit.”
Emotion floods her eyes and sadly, I don’t know what that means either. I drop my hand from her face, the flush of her cheeks evident even in the dimness of the room. “Maybe you don’t know me as well as you think.”
“You’re probably right,” I admit, swallowing over the annoyance. “I don’t know you anymore.” Rolling onto my back, I restmy hands on my stomach and stare at the ceiling. As a distraction, I count the knots in the pine ceiling grain.