Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 69536 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 348(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69536 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 348(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
She shakes her head. “Just some water would be wonderful.”
“Make that two,” I say to Jeremy.
The truth is, I don’t drink much, although Leif and I have been known to occasionally tie one on. I drank a lot when I got back from my last tour. To try to numb the pain.
What I found out eventually though was numbing the pain doesn’t do any good. Because the pain is still there when the numbness wears off.
The pain is always there.
A few minutes later, Jeremy brings our waters. “Any appetizers?”
“How about some calamari?” I ask Aspen.
“Sure. Whatever you’d like.”
“Calamari,” I say. “And I’ll have the lasagna.”
“Are you ready to order your entrée, ma’am?” Jeremy asks.
“Sure. Spaghetti and meatballs, please.”
I don’t know why I’m surprised. That’s what she said she was going to order. Jeremy makes a few notes on his pad and then leaves us alone again.
“So tell me about this Brandon,” I say.
“I would if I could. It’s been over five years since I’ve seen him.”
“There must be a reason why you didn’t want to contact him once you were found.”
“There is. I… I’m not the same person I was.”
“I understand.”
“Do you?”
“With all due respect, Aspen, yes, I do. I was a Navy SEAL. I did three tours in Afghanistan. I’ve seen more than anyone should have to see. Experienced more than anyone should have to experience. And while I don’t pretend to know exactly what you’ve been through and exactly how it’s all affected you, I do understand trauma.”
So much for not burdening her with my problems.
She nods.
“It’s okay,” I say. “We don’t have to talk.”
“Good. Thank you for understanding.” She takes a sip of water.
This meal will be long.
But it’s okay. I don’t mind looking at Aspen. She’s very beautiful, with dark hair cut short—really short—brown eyes, and minimal makeup. Not that she needs any at all. And her body… I’m feeling something. I’m not exactly sure what, but it’s been a long time since that part of me has felt anything.
Anything at all.
6
ASPEN
“Marry me,” Brandon says.
We’d just won a match and were bound for the championship, and I was on the shoulders of my teammates, when Brandon came down from the stands and got down on one knee.
My teammates cheer. Were they in on this?
Happiness—the elation of it all—surged through me. I was already high on adrenaline from the game.
I never expected this. Brandon and I haven’t talked about marriage. But I’m on fucking cloud nine. Nope. Make that cloud ninety-nine.
And this beautiful man is on one knee before me. Before me and my teammates.
“Oh my God, yes!” I scream.
My teammates lower me to the ground where my legs wobble and I nearly lose my footing. Luckily the girls are there to steady me.
Brandon opens the velvet box he’s holding. A gold band with a small diamond solitaire perched on it stares back at me. Brandon and I are young. This is what he can afford, and that means the world to me.
I lift my left hand, and he removes the ring and places it on my finger.
“Perfect fit,” he says. “Just like us.”
I always took my ring off for games, but I put it back on after I left the locker room.
I was wearing it when I was taken.
When I woke up, of course, it was gone. I was naked, trapped in some kind of concrete dungeon, where I had to fight for my life.
They called me “worthy prey.”
In fact, they called me the worthiest prey they’d seen.
At the time, in my still champion state, I considered their words a compliment in some warped way.
Turned out, it wasn’t a compliment. When I ended up on that island, running for my life every night, it wasn’t a compliment.
I suppose I wasn’t actually running for my life.
They weren’t allowed to kill us. But they could do pretty much anything else. Many times I was beaten beyond recognition, and I have the scars to prove it. I’ve been whipped, cut, stabbed, mutilated.
Oddly, my face remained unscathed. Sure, they punched me, gave me a few black eyes, a few swollen lips, but all those wounds healed without scars.
When I’m wearing clothes, no one can see what I’ve been through. My face looks exactly the same.
Except for my eyes.
When I look into my eyes in the mirror, I see what was done to me, even though I don’t let myself remember a lot of it, and I assume everyone else can see it as well.
Buck’s calamari arrives, and he offers me some. I decline, still sipping my water.
“You sure? Smells great.”
“I’m sure.”
Squid? No thanks. We were fed a lot of seafood on the island, and I prefer not to eat it now. Katelyn told me the same thing. Strangely, I never ate red meat before. Only poultry, fish, and vegetables.
Now? Red meat is all I eat, it seems.