Chapter Four

Damian

I texted my apologies to Walsh as I jogged away from the restaurant, appreciating the dark night to hide my scarred features from anyone who might be walking around town this late.

Me: I’m so sorry. I’m going to walk home. I need the fresh air.

Walsh: Are you sure? I can give you a ride.

Me: No way. Enjoy your evening. I’ll see you when you get back. Tell Lake I’m sorry I ruined the dinner.

Walsh: Hardly anyone even noticed. It was fine. You could have stayed. Alex feels awful.

Alex. The leggy, gorgeous brunette. From the moment I’d stepped into the restaurant, I’d been aware of her, watching her as she flitted from one person to another with her ever-present clipboard. Why I was drawn to her, I didn’t know. I shouldn’t be. She reminded me of my mother, handling people like a pro.

I shuddered, and it wasn’t from the wine soaking my clothes, chilling in the night air. I hated my mom’s manipulative life. As one of the most powerful media moguls in the world, I was pretty sure she could convince even the Pope to have an orgy if she wanted. She knew how to work people.

As her only child, I’d learned the best way to deal with her was to not. I made sure to stay out of her sphere of influence—at least as much as I was able to. For the last two and half years, Walsh had served as my wall against her. We’d told her when I was in the hospital that we were lovers so she’d give me some space. It had worked, but with him getting married, my lie was going to come out, and it wasn’t going to be pretty.

As I walked, I glanced around the picturesque little tourist town. This time at night, all the stores and businesses were closed, but almost all of them had their windows lit up with displays. I could see why Walsh had become so entranced with both the town as well as the girl when he visited here. There was a nice vibe to the place that worked on even me.

A small river ran through the edge of downtown with a lit path that followed alongside it. I glanced down at the map app on my phone to make sure it would take me the right way before crossing the street toward it. Thank fuck I had the address for the rental house saved in my email files on my phone so I could use the GPS to guide me there.

I let the sound of the running water soothe my frazzled nerves. Huge trees reached for the sky like they’d stood there proudly for hundreds of years. This high up, there was virtually no light pollution, and the stars were the brightest I’d ever seen them. This walk had been something I needed, although as my toes pinched in my dress shoes. I wished I’d brought running shoes.

I hadn’t been running outdoors since the accident, too afraid to run into other people. But here, I could run in the middle of the night without fear. I doubted that Aspenridge was a hotbed of crime, and no one was out after six or seven. The idea had merit. Maybe I could order some shoes with overnight delivery service so I’d get them quickly.

Even as I had that thought, I rounded the bend in the river to find a little walking bridge that arched over the rushing water. It led straight to an old log structure with a sign that said, Running Wild, on it. I crossed the bridge. Outside, there were dozens of bright kayaks locked up. The window display caught my attention. A heavy duty, black mountain bike gleamed in the display lights.

Aspenridge wasn’t that big, probably five miles from one end of town to the other. With a bike, I could ride everywhere I needed to go without ever having to set foot in an automobile again while I was here.

Immediately, the muscles in my shoulders relaxed. I hadn’t realized just how tense I’d been about the idea of having to drive back and forth to the brewery every day. Here was a solution.

I took a photo of the bike and the store information on the door and walked the rest of the way to my rental cabin, feeling much lighter. Even after the scene I’d created at the dinner, maybe I could do this, act somewhat like a normal human being and leave the house every day and do the job Walsh asked.

Maybe.

The stricken face of the brunette, Alex, after she’d knocked the drinks into my lap flashed inside my brain. She’d been so focused on cleaning up the mess she hadn’t gotten a good look at me.

All I’d known was that she had touched me, her long fingered hands like pokers lighting up my skin, electrifying and terrifying. I’d had to escape before she saw the monster she’d touched so kindly, softly. The worst sort of torture was knowing if she’d looked up, her beautiful face would have morphed into horror and distaste before she could cover it. I’d seen it too many times before.

My stomach roiled with dread. I wasn’t normal and never would be again. I still struggled with accepting that. Girls like Alex wanted gorgeous guys they could show off on their Instagram and Twitter accounts. I wasn’t that guy and never would be again.

***

Walsh rolled into the house three hours later, smiling and happier than I’d ever seen him before. I tilted my head to examine him. Love looked good on him. His strawberry blond hair was mussed, and he had pink lipstick smeared across his lips that matched the shade I was pretty sure Lake had been wearing earlier tonight. His shirt was no longer tucked in, either, and it was buttoned crooked.

I smirked at him. “I thought that’s why you were staying here tonight, so there’d be no despoiling your lovely bride-to-be the night before your wedding.”

“Despoiling? Do we live in the 1800s now?”

I shrugged. “It sounded better than accusing you of drilling your BAE into the worn-out springs of that bench seat in the cab of your truck.”

His expression morphed into a grimace as his pale skin flushed bright red.

Busted.

I bit back a laugh.

“Yeah, okay, definitely don’t say things like that,” he muttered and glanced over at the movie playing on the TV. “Dude, what are you watching? Is that Doris Day?” He looked at me in horror.

I shrugged. “Hey, it’s a classic, and the satellite choices here aren’t that great.” I could have streamed something on my laptop, but that had seemed like too much effort when I’d arrived home and they’d been running a Doris Day marathon. I liked classic movies, all classic movies, and sometimes, something light and fun helped get me out of a funk. Take, for example, Doris Day starring in Lover Come Back. I liked it.

Walsh must not have been too appalled by the choice, because he grabbed a beer out of the fridge and joined me on the couch.

I chuckled into the neck of my beer but didn’t say anything.

Ten minutes later, he asked, “So, catch me up...she doesn’t know who he is?”

I shook my head. “No, he’s her competition in the advertising business. If she knew who he really was, she never would have dated him. So he lied and told her he was this innocent, geeky chemist instead of the player he really is.”

Walsh grunted. “That’s kind of what happened between Lake and me, except I was impersonating you...the debonair billionaire.”

I snorted. “I may have some money, but the debonair is a joke.” The skin tightened on my right side as a phantom pain brushed over the damaged nerve endings. “But it worked out for you in the end, so whatever,” I said, trying to fend off another discussion about how socially inept I was in my new reality.

“You could be that guy again,” Walsh said quietly. “Your scars have faded. They aren’t as bad as they used to be. I think you’re too self-conscious about it all, and that’s made other people’s reactions seem like more than they actually are.”

I wasn’t going to have this discussion. Not again. “Whatever.” I shrugged and refocused on the movie.

We were both silent for a few minutes.

“The grand opening for Ice’s Brew Pub is in just a couple of weeks,” Walsh said. “That’s our final Ghost Squad Charities project. What are you going to do then? Maybe you should take some time to yourself. Travel, explore, get out. You know, Alex is single. Maybe you should take these two weeks and explore your options.”

“What is it about guys who are in a committed relationship suddenly thinking that everyone should be in the same boat? I’m not ever going to be that guy, Walsh.” There was no way someone as gorgeous as Alex would ever be interested in someone like me. I was the beast to her beauty, and that kind of arrangement only worked in fairy tales, not real life.

“You used to want a family, Damian. I haven’t forgotten.”

I shook my head. “Guys out in the warzone talk all kinds of nonsense about home and family. That’s not my reality anymore, and it never will be. Let’s drop it, okay? You can be happy tying the knot with your girl tomorrow. Your happiness is enough. I’ll just live vicariously through you if it makes you feel better.”

He pressed his lips tightly together but didn’t argue.

We both refocused on the movie, and I tried to concentrate on the storyline of the two characters falling in love. But suddenly, this movie didn’t seem as happy and lighthearted as it had before. Now it weighed me down, depressing me although the characters found happiness in one another.

I had wanted that—a wife, two-and-a-half kids, and the dog. But I’d lost my chance, and now the one person I’d counted on for everything was leaving me, too. Walsh had been my lifeline for the last two and half years. Suddenly, the reality of my interminable loneliness yawned in front of me.

I didn’t want that, but I had no idea how to fix it. Nobody wanted to hang out with a disfigured ex-soldier who suffered daily from anxiety issues. And even if they did, it wouldn’t be fair of me to saddle them with the weight of it all. I’d been too sick and focused on recovery when Walsh had moved in to realize the sacrifice he was making. I couldn’t do that to someone else again.

I rubbed uncomfortably along the edges of my scars along my ribs. The thin air at this altitude made my skin drier. I needed to apply some more lotion. The next day promised to be long and stressful, leading into two weeks of hell. That knowledge alone promised that tonight’s nightmares would be extra-bad.

I stood. “I’m going to head to bed. I’ll try not to keep you awake tonight.”

His expression darkened with concern that I shrugged off.

We both knew how bad my nightmares could get. I hadn’t taken that into account when we’d made the plan to have him sleep here. No matter what, he needed to be well rested for his day tomorrow. I grabbed my Kindle off the counter as I passed. I could just immerse myself into a book and catch up on my sleep tomorrow night. If I survived the day tomorrow...