AllFreeNovel
Share Us
This girl.
I can’t help laughing.
“I’m blunt,” she says, “I know. I got more blunt after my wreck. Just less tolerance for bullshit I guess.”
“Well, bullshit sucks.” I feel a stab of guilt.
“Did your brain injury impact your hand?”
I hold it out. “No. I hurt my neck too. The scar you saw? Shrapnel. Fucked up some nerves.”
She leans forward in her seat, reaching across the table. I hold my hand out, feeling a weird dip in my belly. I flex my thumb and index finger, showing her they work, although she probably already knows from sparring with me.
“You can’t feel anything?” she asks tapping my pinkie.
“Just pressure.”
“Yeah…” A thoughtful frown twists her lips. “My face is like that too.”
I want to touch it. To look into her eyes and…
I blow my breath out.
Gwenna sinks back into her chair, across the table.
“I’m sorry about your job. Reminds me of my stuff. What I knew how to do wasn’t an option anymore. It was really hard. What were you doing before you bought the house? How long had you been stateside?”
I drum my fingers on the table, thinking back. “I was over there in Germany, in the U.S. military hospital, from…mmm, August 2014 to November. Came back over here, was in Virginia from December to February of this year, doing rehab. From then…”
I shrug. I can’t tell her the truth. Flailing. Getting unaddicted to Ambien and having nonstop nightmares. Visiting Breck’s family. Camping up there near his house for three months in a cabin with no amenities and nothing but the empty sky to keep me company. “Regrouping, I guess. I’ve got some family…”
I’m veering into bullshit territory, so I’m grateful when she nods enthusiastically. “So, seeing them and stuff? That’s good.”
* * *
Gwenna
His blue eyes rest on my face with preternatural interest, a serene sort of focus that makes me feel like the only person in the world. He’s got a fork in his fingers, his right hand hovering near the side of his plate. The denim blue cotton of his shirt stretches across his shoulders, the color of it making his eyes look deep oceans. His dark curls hang over his forehead, messy and delicious. His face is pale. His face is beautiful. His lips and nose and eyes and cheeks and jaw…the features feel familiar. Every time I look at him, I get this weird sensation that I know him, combined with the thrilling shock of coming face-to-face with a breathtaking stranger.
This is so not good.
I flex my toes inside my sneakers, trying to keep my cool and not betray my…intense— sort-of obsession with him. We are neighbors. Nothing more. For a thousand reasons, most of them my stupid mouth and lousy self-esteem, but also because I’m pretty sure he’s not looking for more.
Any butterflies I might or might not be having—any heart palpitations or giddiness or desire to take him to my room and jump his bones—all those things are obviously related to me being long overdue for male company.
And that makes sense, I tell myself. I picture Helga telling me it all makes sense. How anyone’s feelings about themselves would change if they went through what I did. How by now, anyone would be lonely.
“You should put yourself back out there, though. One toe at a time.”
I push her voice away and realize Barrett is staring at me. I blink and drum my fingers on the table. “Zone-out moment! Sorry. I swear I have adult ADD. Among other things.” I mime a knock on the side of my head. “So what were we saying? Did I already ask you if I should call you Bear or Barrett?”
He smiles, one side of his mouth first, then spreading to a full-on, lovely, gentle smile.
“Squirrel,” he says. “You remind me of a girl I knew in high school we called Squirrel. She was always bouncing around, losing her focus. It was funny.” He smiles once more, then brings a hand up to his hair, touching hi
s forehead lightly with the fingers of his right hand as his face takes on a more serious expression. “Yeah.” He nods, blinking at his plate. “I got called Bear.” He sits back, away from the table, staring at its edge. “Not anymore.”
His dark brows draw together, and I wait for his gaze to come to mine. And wait. My throat feels heavy as I read the pain on his face.
