CHAPTER TWO
Carson
When Brett invited me to his house for Christmas, I wasn’t sure what to say. I sat down in the sitting room of my small but stylish Colorado apartment, a coffee at hand, and closed my eyes, trying to think.
I had no idea what to say. It wasn’t just the fact that I might have other commitments. It was the fact that I had to think really hard about this invitation: It had been a year since I last saw my best friend Brett. And besides, we had history. In our case, that history has a name that belongs to his younger sister. Amelia.
Brett’s little sister Amelia that is. She was the first thing that sprang to my mind when he contacted me earlier today. I guess it shouldn’t have been, since Brett was my buddy and that was all ten years ago. Despite all that, the thought of Brett didn’t bring back memories of him, but of his sister. Something about those blue eyes of hers would always be haunting me.
My heart clenched tight just thinking of it and I ran a weary hand over my dark hair. I would like to say I hadn’t thought about her for years, but I’d be lying to myself. From the plane to Iraq to the battlefield and back again, she had been standing on the edge of my thoughts.
I thought back to my memories of her. She was so beautiful. I remember kissing her for the first time, in the street outside her house. She made me want to scream out loud, with her clouds of soft hair and the sweet softness of her mouth on mine, clinging to my lips. I was twenty, she was sixteen and I was the luckiest boy on earth. She gave herself to me and I know I didn’t deserve her to. I never did deserve her.
That was why I left her. That; and the fact that I thought I might as well die. When I left college, I knew I wanted to follow my heart and join the military. Which meant, at that time, that I might not come back. That was back when the troops were going straight to Iraq and many weren’t coming back. Amelia didn’t deserve to her first boyfriend die on her. She deserved better than me.
What will she say if she sees me, now?
I sighed. The mirror on the wall showed me a different face to the one she would have remembered. Ten years older, for a start, but it wasn’t just that. It was the new hardness there. The lines, the angles, the expression in his eyes that was different—sadder, more remote. My face was a little more weather-beaten than it might have been, though it was still lean and strong. My hair was still dark and my body hard with the training.
I’m still good-looking, I guess. But would that be enough?
Even as I thought it, I wanted to kick myself. I shouldn’t care if I looked like the back end of a freight truck. I was not—absolutely not—going to get involved with Amelia Carlyle again. Not for anyone.
“Besides,” I said, “she might not even be there.” Why should she be? She is Brett’s little sister, after all. He’s married, now, with a lovely wife and two small kids. Maybe she’s somewhere else for Christmas. Maybe married too.
That thought made my throat tight and I felt angry about it. The level of the anger surprised me. If I really had moved on, I should have been glad to think she had too, but apparently, I hadn’t.
Come on, Carson! Decide, for pity’s sakes!
I had to send Brett a reply now. I couldn’t spoil his plans by keeping him waiting. I drew in a deep breath and raised my fingers to type. I sent two simple words. Yes. Thanks.
When that was done I leaned back with a big, shaky sigh and looked up at the ceiling. That was surprisingly difficult. Well, I’d done it now. For better or worse, I was going to tie up the loose ends of that part of my past.
I stood and walked through to the kitchen. At that moment, my phone rang. I ran through and grabbed it, tripping over the couch as I did so.
“Carson?”
“Ah…Brett!” I breathed hard through my nose. Falling over had hurt. My shin hit the edge of the table, and it was throbbing badly.
“Hey! Bro! What’s up? You sound rough.”
“Um…nothing, Brett. Just fine! What’s up?” I said through gritted teeth, hissing out as my shin throbbed under my fingers.
“Well, if you say so,” he said, sounding hesitant to believe me. “I just got your message. That’s great! The twenty-first work okay for you, man?”
“Uh…that’s tomorrow, right?” I asked. My heart did a flip.
“Yes.” Brett paused. “Are you sure that everything’s okay, Carson?” He sounded concerned.
“I’m fine!” I snapped. I hadn’t meant to lose my temper with him. That’s one of the problems with me—I have a short fuse at the moment. My doctor tells me it’s from the trauma. I try not to believe him.
“Whoa, Carson. I’m sorry, man.”
I sighed. “It’s not your fault, Brett. I’m just stressing right now. I’m really sorry.”
“No problem, bro. Just glad you’ll make it.”
“Sure, I will.”
“Good,” he said. “I should go—gotta get the kids from school.”
“Okay,” I said, relieved I would be able to express the agony of my sore shin when he went off. And maybe put some baked beans on it or something. “Looking forward to seeing you!”
“Great! Amelia will be so pleased to see you. Bye!”
“Brett…wait!” I said. But he had already hung up. I leaned back on the sofa.
Maybe he meant to say Reese. But no, Brett wasn’t the kind of guy to get mixed up between his sister and his wife, and he’d said it. Amelia. I closed my eyes.
Amelia is going to be there? Alone? Single?
“Brett,” I said aloud, not sure whether it was the sore shin or something else that made me feel so completely defeated. “What are you doing to me?”
I absolutely did not need to see Amelia, but now it seemed I was going to. On Christmas Day. Was this a Christmas miracle or disaster waiting to happen?
Funnily enough, as I limped through to the kitchen and held a pack of cold peas on my shin-bone, I couldn’t help but feel excited about seeing her again.
I wonder how she’s changed?
I recalled her as a beautiful, lively seventeen-year-old. At twenty-seven, what would she be like? I formed a picture in my head, or tried to, from memory and imagination. She was tall, fair-haired with those soft blue eyes and a smile that could melt hearts at fifty paces. I had loved her at first sight. I still had feelings for her.
Amelia Carlyle. Beautiful, funny and irresistible.
I chuckled. “Carson, be a good boy.”
I couldn’t believe what my imagination was doing to my body. It wasn’t like I’d been celibate in the last ten years, but just the thought of the girl I had loved sent shivers through me, making my dick stiff. I bit my lip, shaking my head.
Grunting, I put my foot on the tiles again. It had been on the kitchen chair, so I could reach the shin more easily, and I limped upstairs. Packing had become second nature during my years in the military, but a visit to an old buddy is different to moving camp. I supposed I had to get presents too.
The next morning, at five am I left my apartment in Boulder, Colorado, and started driving. It would take me twelve hours to get to LA, but at such short notice, driving was much better than flying. I guessed I would arrive by supper-time.
I enjoy driving. With my new secondhand BMW convertible, it’s even more fun. Smooth and relaxing. On the long, winding roads, my brain took wing. My thoughts were of Amelia.
“And I’m coming ho-ome…” I sang along with the radio. When I caught myself doing it, I blinked, surprised.
Hell, Carson! You’re excited, man.
It surprised me. I knew why I was singing and smiling. It was because I was going to see her—Amelia. I had never realized how much I loved her. How much breaking up with her had actually cut me up. But apparently it had—I never sing, and smiling doesn’t come too easily either. I wished Pete were here.
My army buddy, shot in Iraq, I often talk to Pete when I face something that confuses me. He was always wise and laid-back about everything.
“Pete, man? Am I being dumb?” I asked.
I sighed. If Pete were here, he’d be laughing at me. I looked out of the window, feeling my throat tighten with sadness. I blinked at a billboard by the roadside. It read: “Follow your instincts”.
It was an ad for perfume or something; I don’t even know. But it could have been Pete’s reply. It sounded like something he’d say. Don’t worry about it, man. Just trust your instincts. That would have been his advice.
“Okay, Pete,” I said, sighing. “I’ll do my best. Sounds like a plan.”
I put my foot on the gas, wincing as the sore spot in my right leg stretched out, and sped ahead.
After twelve hours of driving, I reached the outskirts of LA. It was dark, the lights blinking from the tall buildings in the distance.
“Okay, Carson. Be cool.”
I pulled over and switched on the GPS and let it guide me to Brett’s house in the suburbs. After half an hour of traffic and remembering why I don’t like large cities, I found it.
I realized, with some surprise, that I was trembling when I stopped at the gate. I drew in long, even breaths through my nose and out through my mouth, trying to steady myself.
Hell, Carson! You’d think you were running unarmed into heavy fire here, not visiting a friend for Christmas. Calm down, for pity’s sakes!
I got my breathing under control, got out of the car and headed through the gate. I rang the bell.
“Hello?” A voice called through the wood. My heart stopped and the door opened.
I was looking straight into the face of Amelia.