Page 95

Declan
Sojourn isa busy place on Sunday. The atrium is bustling with people, coming and going. The visitor’s lounge is packed. Kids running everywhere.
Crowds aren’t my favorite. The way people look at me like I take up more than my fair share of space. Like I’m an animal escaped from the zoo, about to rampage my way through the place. Usually, I can handle it. After the morning I’ve had I’m struggling.
Making a conscious effort to not go full-fledged King Kong, I do my best to keep it together, muttering excuse me and right behind you on my way to Ryan’s room.
I still can’t figure out why I’m here.
Why I got into my truck after my blow-up with my dad and drove straight here instead of just going home like wanted to.
Bullshit. You know why you’re here. You’re here because you fucked up his life and want him to forgive you, even if you don’t deserve it.
When I finally get to his room, the door is cracked. Giving it a knock that pushes it open even further, I stick my head in the crack. Ryan is standing at the window, watching the parking lot below. He’s wearing civilian clothes again. Dark colored cargo pants and a long-sleeved, collared shirt. He looks uncomfortable.
I ease the door open wide enough to slip through the crack before pushing it closed behind me. “Hey.”
“Hey,” he says without looking away from the window. “What are you doing here?” Despite the question, he doesn’t sound surprised to see me. He doesn’t sound particularly pleased that I’m here either. Again, I’m not sure if his lack of emotional response is a byproduct of his injuries or if it’s about the fact that he hates me. Blames me.
“I… I came to apologize.”
He finally looks away from the window, aiming an irritated glare in my direction. “What the fuck are you sorry for?”
This isn’t a recent character development due to head injury. Ryan’s always been defensive. Short-tempered. At least with me. Like I said, we were never really friends. Never particularly liked each other. “Don’t pull that passive-aggressive shit with me, man.” I take a step toward him. “You know what. I’m sorry for—”
“The fact that I have one nut and a dick that looks like Mrs. McGintey’s dog has been chewing on it.” He turns away from the window completely, aiming his glare at me head-on. “Is that it? No?” When I don’t say anything, he lifts his cane and jabs it at me. “I got it—you’re sorry that I’m rocking the Freddy Kruger look under my civvies or maybe you’re sorry I can’t remember what I had for breakfast yesterday or what goddamned meds I have to take without writing that shit down.” He lowers his cane with a resounding thump. “That it? That what you’re sorry for?”
I nod. “Yes.” For a second, that’s all I can say. All I can do. Finding my voice, I clear it. Force myself to use it. “That’s what I’m sorry for. If it weren’t for me you would—”
“Get the fuck out of here with that shit, man.” Ryan uses his cane to steady himself so he can lower himself into one of the chairs he has parked near the window. He moves slowly. Like an old man. Like it hurts. I think about last night. He was a little stiff but nothing like this. Like he’s reading my mind, he smirks at me. “Didn’t know if I was going to have to kick your ass so I took some pain meds last night before Tess picked me up. Helps in the moment but you pay for it the next day.” Before I can ask he shakes his head at me. “I hate taking them. Seen too many of my brothers get hooked on that shit.”
My brothers.
I look away from him and see his dress blues hanging from a hook on the back of his bathroom door. I can see his service medals. The chevrons on the sleeves. I don’t know shit about military rank but they look like stripes. When I look back at him, Ryan is watching me.
“Master Sergeant Ryan O’Connell, first-class,” he tells me. “That’s who I was.”
Was.
I don’t like the way he says it. Like he doesn’t exist anymore. Like he’s a ghost. “Ry—”
“It is your fault, I’ll give you that much.” He tilts his head to the side and shrugs. “If it weren’t for you I never would’ve started stealing cars. I never would’ve gotten tangled up with Troy Murphy. I never would’ve gotten caught. Never would’ve had to join the army. I never would’ve gotten out of this shithole town. Never would’ve found my calling. Never would’ve become someone I was proud to be.” He leans his cane against the side of his chair and turns away from me to look out the window. “It would’ve ended one of two ways. I’d be like my father, a bitter, broke-down drunk or in prison with Murphy.” He takes a deep breath. Let’s it out slowly like a tired old man. “This shit sucks, D. It sucks bad, but I wouldn’t trade where I am now with where I would’ve been if you hadn’t done what you did.”
I listen to what he’s telling me. That he doesn’t blame me. Never did. I try to accept the absolution he’s giving me, but I can’t because despite the fact that it’s exactly what I came here for, it’s not something I can allow myself to have.
“And you don’t have to worry,” he says, gaze aimed out the window again. “I promised her I wouldn’t so you don’t need to run to your brother and tell him I’m gonna eat my gun or some shit.”
Her is Tess. I don’t even have to ask.
“She told you about her mom.” It shouldn’t feel like a betrayal. I shouldn’t feel angry at him for knowing. But it does and I do. Because I’m a selfish dick. Because it was something we shared. Something Tess gave to me and even though I didn’t deserve it, I kept it. Held onto it so hard that somewhere along the way it became mine.
“Yeah.” If he’s surprised that she told me he doesn’t show it. I remember that night we got into it. He told me to stay away from her. That she deserved better than me. That he knew me. That I was just going to end up hurting her like I do everyone else.
He was right.
I should’ve listened to him.
“I gotta ask you something,” Ryan says, still looking out the window.