A little over an hour later, we were both bladdered. Edge stood, presumably to pour us each another shot of Irish. I got up to join him and saw him fingering the red stone I’d inadvertently left on the counter. I reached over and put it in the pocket of my trousers.
“Where did you get that?”
Pia was a topic of discussion I avoided. Not just with Edge, with everyone. “Long story,” I said, downing one shot and pouring another.
“We’re too pissed to go anywhere, so you might as well tell me.”
I sat back down and looked up at the ceiling. “When I was sixteen, I went to Italy with my parents…”
“Blooming hell,” he said when I got to the part where Pia came to the hospital and I told her to leave.
I shook my head, reached into my pocket, and took out the heart-shaped stone. “She never came back. As much as I told myself I didn’t want her to, part of me was disappointed.”
“I’m surprised she didn’t, especially after…”
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You bloody bastard. I just told you my whole life story.”
“It wasn’t anything she said specifically. I just got the impression she was in love with you.”
I laughed. “Infatuation. Nothing more.”
“She’s done a number on you.”
No more than I had on her.
“You need to get your mind off of her. Find someone else, even just for a shag.”
I groaned, hating that Edge brought up anything to do with sex, especially after we’d just finished talking about Pia—who I still fantasized about both awake and in my dreams.
It had been a long time since I was with a woman. First, it was because we were in Iraq for fourteen months. Then…well…I couldn’t imagine any woman would want me now. Not that it was something I’d discuss with Edge.
It wasn’t just the scarring, which in itself would be horrifying. Everything about my time in Iraq had changed something in me. I didn’t go a single night without nightmares.
In most of them, I relived the explosion and being on fire. In some, though, I dreamed about the last man I killed before that mission. I knew I’d never forget the way his eyes had remained fixated on mine, even in death.
I looked up from my drink, and Edge was studying me.
“You love her too.”
I shook my head. “You’re wrong.”
“Good morning, Son,” said my father, joining me in the kitchen the following day.
“Morning.” I scrubbed my face with my hand. “Listen, I really appreciate you and Mum letting me stay here.”
When he raised his head, the look in his eyes almost shattered me. I’d been the worst son imaginable through my ordeal; the worst person, really.
I lashed out so much at those who cared about me, it was a wonder they ever spoke to me again. The only person I didn’t seem to faze was Carson. It didn’t matter what kind of abuse I hurled at him; it slid off his back, and he went on as though I hadn’t said a word. He also counseled my parents as to how to deflect my anger, but having their son turn into the devil incarnate had worn them down.
“You don’t need to thank us, Miles. Your mum and I love you. We’d do anything for you.”
Including blow through their entire life savings to provide for a private combination of nurse and caregiver. The settlement I got from the Royal Army had replenished their reserves. My promise to never speak to either of them again if they refused the money was the only thing that made them finally relent and accept it. As it was, I still had three times as much money in the bank as they did. I’d give them every penny if they’d let me; however, even I knew there may come a day when I’d need it for further medical care.
“Your sister is stopping by later this morning.”