Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 71289 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 356(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71289 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 356(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
“Come on, boy,” Peek said thickly, finishing the last of his beer. “I got a hot, warm, willing woman in my bed. If you don’t spit it out, I’m just going to assume you’re not going to and get to her.”
I downed the rest of the beer, not stopping until the only thing left was the foam.
“Fine,” I ground out, looking around the bar.
There was no one there, which worked well.
I wasn’t about to tell them my deepest, darkest secret with other people around.
It was one thing to tell them, men I knew I could trust to carry my secret to the grave.
Others that weren’t in the same lifestyle…who didn’t know how fucking hard it could be for a combat veteran to acclimate to regular life after they’d done so much time in combat.
Normal people just didn’t understand.
These men in front of me, though, did.
“I met my best friend in the Army when I was eighteen. We stayed with each other all through boot camp, training and then later, the Army Rangers,” I started.
I saw Peek wince when he realized that something bad was about to unfold.
A man didn’t have to drink eight shots of whiskey to tell a story unless it was bad.
“He got hurt,” I continued. “We both did, but he was worse. We both came home, both of us fucked up as hell. Me with a head injury. My arm and back fucked. And him...”
I took a deep breath.
“He couldn’t walk. Couldn’t piss by himself, and he had seizures nearly once a week.” I didn’t look at Ridley when I said that. If I did, I would see the sympathy there, and I couldn’t handle that right then. “He couldn’t even get out of bed because both of his arms and one leg were blown off. He refused any and all treatment and help in getting his health and his life on track again after all that,” I blew out a breath. “I started out better. Got a job on the Los Angeles police force once my head was deemed ‘okay’ and my arm healed. My head had supposedly healed, but the emotional damage wasn’t healing, not at all. So, I lied. The longer I was home, the worse I got. I was violent. I got into fights and then blacked out and couldn’t remember what I did the previous day.” I shook my head. “It kept getting worse and worse until one day I made a deal with Stephen. One that was his idea, but I went along with it, and I shouldn’t have.”
My voice cracked as I said those last few words.
I needed another drink.
“It’s okay, son,” Peek said in his lilting Irish accent.
I closed my eyes.
Then reopened them and stared Peek in the eyes when I said what I had to say next.
“We both hated ourselves so much that we knew something had to be done. We made a deal. We shoot each other, that way it’s not a suicide. Our parents would get our life insurance, and that’d be the end of it.”
“But he didn’t follow through,” Peek guessed.
I gasped in a ragged breath, my chest so tight it hurt to breathe.
“Yeah,” I choked. “That was one of those days that I could barely remember. I only know those few facts. That’s all.”
“So what happened?” Mig asked, having stayed silent this whole time, I’d nearly forgotten about him. I’d nearly forgotten about all of them being at my back.
“They thought I’d shot him out of self-defense,” I explained. “I was still in uniform. I’d come to see him during my lunch while on shift.”
“Damn,” Ridley said.
I was sure he was thinking better of asking me to tell Peek now.
It was something that no man would ever want to divulge.
Not that he wanted to kill himself.
Not that he planned it out, and it would have happened if his friend had played his part and not chickened out when pulling the trigger.
I couldn’t say the same for me.
I’d done my job. I’d pulled the trigger.
And I’d pay for that decision for the rest of my life.
Stephen haunted me in my dreams. In my waking moments.
There was never a time that Stephen wasn’t there.
Until a certain lady had come into my life and had gone about changing my outlook on everything.
“So, how are you better right now?” Casten chimed in. “You’re sitting here, not getting into a fights. What changed?”
I lowered my head and removed my hat.
The hat that I always wore, no matter what.
“Surgery,” I twisted to the side and moved my hair out of the way. “After I quit my job, the next day, blaming it on the job, I went in to see a doc about my episodes. He ran a CT scan and then saw the blood. It was a bleed so fine that it was missed by everyone but me. I knew something was wrong. I just wasn’t willing to admit it.”