Page 28

COREY

The second Harlow’s taxi turned the corner at the end of the street this morning, I took off in the other direction toward the studio.

I was numb, and the only thing I could see was the horror from my nightmare. I knew I’d had it. I always do. Whether I remember the actual images playing out in my sleep or just wake with the sick feeling in the pit of my stomach and my body covered in a sheen of sweat, I always know.

I could just about handle them when I first came back to England and was forced to embark on life as a civi, but then my already bullshit life got turned upside down once again. Now the memories, combined with my own imagination and the guilt, almost swallow me whole.

It’s another reason why I don’t allow women to stay over. They don’t need to see the darkness that I manage to fight in daylight but that consumes me at night.

The day passes in a haze of memories and ink. I lose myself in my art.

The only contact I allow myself to have with her is that one text. I typed and retyped it over and over, trying to find the right words. But there weren’t any.

In the end, “thank you” was all I could come up with. I had no idea if I was thanking her for the time we spent together, or for her understanding this morning. Regardless, it just felt right.

If it weren’t for meeting Jonathan, who discovered my hidden talent, and then him introducing me to Zach when we were on leave, I don’t know what would have become of me.

I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t be here now. Without a way to vent, to lose yourself, there’s no way that one person can deal with that much loss in such a short time.

My leg tingles just like it does every time I think of my boys and how lightly I came out of the explosion that day.

Two of us walked away. Two. But six years on, I’m the only one who’s still here to tell the tale.

It’s a sobering thought, and one I’ve clung to many times over those years.

I want to keep their memories alive, even if I never talk about it.

I’ve lost contact with their families now, who I hope have managed to rebuild their lives, and my only connection to Jonathan is Zach. We always raise a toast to him when we get together. To our fallen friend, the one who helped to put us both on the right tracks and find ourselves in ink.

I sit on the edge of my bed, staring down at the tattoo covering my entire left leg.

I remember Zach working on it as if it were yesterday.

Then, I place my hand to the one covering my heart.

I might not be able to see that one so clearly, but it doesn’t mean it hurts any less as I think of the person it’s for.

A lump forms in my throat. I can’t stay here alone tonight, feeling like I’m about to drown in the memories of those I’ve lost.

Pulling on some clean clothes, I walk through my empty apartment and out the front door. I don’t have a destination in mind; I just walk. It’s a hell of a lot better than lying in bed, waiting for my nightmares to claim me.

Eventually, I approach the surf shack. I glance up at the roof of the building and know exactly where I need to sit and think.

Up there is the most peaceful place in the world, watching the waves crash in.

“Good evening, Corey,” one of the waitresses sings as I walk through the front door. “Table for one?”

“Actually, do you mind if I just go and sit up top for a bit?” It’s not the first time I’ve done this, but usually it’s Kat who greets me and allows me special customer privileges.

“Sure thing. You want me to bring you anything up?”

“Nah, I’m good. Thanks.” She nods and stands aside so I can walk out the back and to the stairs that lead to the roof terrace.

The last thing I expect to find when I reach the top is another figure sitting with his legs dangling over the edge of the building, staring out at the inky night sea beyond.

“Shit, I’m sorry. I’ll just …” I trail off as he turns toward me. “Fletch?”

He narrows his eyes at me as he pushes to stand.

“Corey, Milo’s cousin,” I offer when I see him trying to place me.

“Oh, yeah,” he says like he has a fucking clue. I’m sure he meets hundreds of people on a weekly basis; he has no reason to remember me. “Having a rough night?”

“Something like that. I’m sorry for intruding, I’ll leave you to it.”

“It’s fine. I can share.” He lifts a bottle of Macallan and suddenly things feel a little lighter. He passes it over and I take a sip from the bottle, foregoing a glass. “Let’s shoot the shit, see if we can solve the world’s problems.”

Moving before he changes his mind, I dash back down the stairs.

“So, what has you up here, wanting to outrun the world?” he asks after pouring me a very generous amount of whisky.

A laugh falls from my lips.

“I’ll take that as it being a woman?”

“When isn’t it, man?” A self-deprecating laugh falls from my lips. If only it were that simple.

“You’ve got me there.”

“You in the doghouse?”

He lifts his glass. “Guilty,” Fletch jokes, draining his own glass in one. “Hit me with it then, man.”

I think of Harlow and where I should start. “I met this woman,” I confess quietly.

“I see.”

“But it’s more than just her. It’s …” I scrub my hand down my face as the need to say more bubbles up inside me. I’ve haven’t spoken about this with anyone. But I trust Fletch. “I lost people. People I’ve loved and … I’m not sure I have it in me to go through all of that again.”

Fletch watches me closely as I keep my eyes locked on the ocean before us.

“I get that,” he finally murmurs. “As painful as it is that you’ve lost them, can you imagine your life without having them in it?”

“No, never. They’ve made me who I am. There isn’t a day that goes by where I don’t think about them.”

“Life is fucking hard, man. Relationships are complicated, and love even more so. Heartbreak is inevitable. But the joys …” He trails off, and I know he’s thinking about Reese.

I’ve only ever known them as I couple, but it would be naive of me to think their story was easy and without a few bumps in the road.

“Do I worry about losing Reese? Yeah, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t.

I’m away from her for half of the year, most of the time on the other side of the country.

I’ve seen what my lifestyle can do to relationships.

I’ve seen more than my fair share of teammates ripped apart when the woman in their life couldn’t hack it.

But when I’m with her … fuck, it’s all so worth it.

“I just have to trust in her, trust in us. She’s it for me, and quite frankly, I’d give it all up just to be with her if I had to.”

“It’s going to take some time to get my head around all of this. To work through the past.”

“That’s okay. The right woman will understand. She’ll support you. Hell, she’ll help. You just have to trust her to stand by your side through it all.”

“How will I know?”

He shrugs one shoulder, a smile pulling at one side of his mouth.

“You just know, man.” He thumps his chest with his fist, right above his heart. “Listen to this.”

“I thought it was broken,” I mutter.

“Nah, maybe just a little battered. Memories and people never leave us, Corey, not really. And wounds heal. You just have to be brave enough to move forward.”

I climb to my feet, suddenly knowing exactly where I should be right now. “You heading home to grovel?”

His smile grows. “I’ll sit here for a while longer before I go back and apologize for being an asshole.”

I laugh as I walk away. I’m just about to descend the first step when Fletch calling my name stops me.

“Yeah.”

“Say hi to Harlow for me.”

I shake my head as I descend the stairs. Of course, he fucking knew.

I have a car heading my way before I even get to the bottom of the stairs, my need for her now stronger than ever.

She’s like the little bit of light I need to make everything feel more bearable.

And unlike many that have come before, when she looks into my eyes, she doesn’t see someone who’s broken and fighting his way through life.

She just sees me, and as unnerving as it is, she gets it.

She’s lost the most important people in her life; she understands the hell I’ve lived through without me even having to explain to her the reality of it all.

My feet crunch up the gravel on her driveway seconds after I step from the car. The house is in darkness. I hesitate as I lift my finger to ring the bell. She’s probably asleep; I have no idea how early I woke her this morning, but she deserves her rest after having to deal with me.

Being the selfish arsehole that I am, though, my need is stronger right now.

I press my finger to the button and listen to the ring as it cuts through the silence of the night.

I don’t hear any movement, and I begin to think she either isn’t in, slept through it, or just doesn’t want to see me.

Taking a step back, I look to the upstairs windows in the hope of finding my answer. The curtain twitches, and there she is. Our eyes lock for a beat, and something slams into my chest.

I’ve needed her all day. It’s only now I’ve seen her that I realise just how desperate I am.

When I’m with her, everything falls away. It’s just us, two broken souls trying to deal with our losses and fighting to carve ourselves the lives we deserve. I might not have the details about her family, but she has the same pain in her eyes. The same daily fight.

Coldness washes through me when she slips back inside the room, but it only lasts a few seconds. A light comes on behind the door before I see her move down the stairs through the small piece of frosted glass.

My heart pounds and my fists curl in my need to pull her into my arms, and my cock stirs just at the thought of it.

Hesitantly, she pulls the door open.

“Corey, what are you?—”

I don’t give her a chance to finish her question or even bother with a verbal answer. Instead, my hand lands on her duck egg–blue door, and I push it wider before stepping inside the house.