Page 39 of The Way We Fell

“My story?”

“Yeah. Bum leg. Those tats look military. You recently home?”

“Afghanistan. 2 PARA. Metal rod in my leg.”

The man swears quietly. A reaction I don’t think I’ll ever get used to. I know that to many, military service is something worthy of some kind of hero worship, but to me, it was my job. Something I wanted to do in lieu of any other aspirations, and something I loved doing. It just came to be a part of me.

“Thanks for your service. Let me waive your membership fee. It’s the least I can do.”

I’m not in the habit of accepting charity from people who look at me with pity the way this guy is, but this gym is well-located and exceedingly well-equipped, and it’s expensive as hell, despite the decent salary I’m getting at the casino. So, after a moment’s hesitation, I find myself agreeing.

“I’m Rob. You need anything, you come and find me.” He sticks out a hand, and I grasp it for a handshake.

“Jay. Thanks for not letting me eat mat.”

“Any time. See you soon.”

A little while later, I find myself at Katy’s door again. When I check the watch on my wrist, I notice I’ve been walking for almost an hour to get here. It’s no wonder there’s an ache from my toes to my hip, and a heavy, almost numb sensation whenever I take a step with my right foot. Katy opens the door with a steaming mug in her hand. Surprise quickly melts into a smile.

“Hi stranger,” she greets me, pushing up on her tiptoes to press a quick, friendly kiss to my cool cheek. Her lips are warm and soft, and my entire body stiffens when they meet my skin. We’ve touched before, of course; we’ve held hands, but this feels like another boundary broken down. It’s not how I imagined our first kiss—not that I’ve spent time imagining our first kiss. And not for the first time, I have to stop myself imagining how her lips might feel elsewhere on my body. “Did we have plans?”

“No, no,” I wave her off as she steps aside to invite me in. “I don’t even know how I got here, to be honest.”

Her smile drops and concern fills her eyes. I hate that she looks at me this way—like she’s worried about me. I wish she wouldn’t. I’m not worth it.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, I… yeah.” She tilts her head with pursed lips. “It’s fine, Princess. I’m fine.”

Her eyes narrow, like she doesn’t quite believe me, but she locks the door behind me with a quietclickand follows me through to the kitchen. I pull out one of her dining chairs and drop into it heavily, arresting my momentum at the last second when I hear the wood creak beneath me.

“Talk to me.” Katy pulls out a chair and sits opposite me, setting her mug between her hands on the table.

“There’s nothing to say, Princess. Really. I went to the gym, my leg hurt a bit, I left and then I was here.”

“But you don’t remember getting here? You’re limping.”

“It’s a pretty boring walk, to be honest.” A long one. I hadn’t even noticed I’d been limping, but now Katy has mentioned it, the ache in my hips yells a little louder, my overcompensation evident in the tightness of my muscles.

“Or you’re dissociating.”

“Don’t make out like I’m insane, Princess.” I pull her mug towards me and take a sip, before scrunching my face in disgust. It’s sweet and milky with only the faintest hint of coffee. I push it back to her.

“You’re not insane,” Katy insists calmly. She takes her cup back and drinks from it, pink-glossed lips leaving another stain around the rim. Not for the first time, I find myself imagining her on her knees and that pretty pink stain ringing my dick. “I never said that. It’s not true.”

“But you’re saying I’m dissociating.”

“I’m not saying that. There are different levels of dissociation, Jay. I’m not exactly qualified to diagnose anything like that and you know it. But I’ve seen it with my own eyes. It’s okay if you’re struggling to adjust. It’s okay if you’re not okay. It’s okay if you need some time, if you need to speak to someone, if you just need to scream into a void and be angry. The world sucks, Jay, and you saw the worst of it. You should feel however you need to about that.”

Her eyes are so deep, I can see lifetimes in them—galaxies, the whole universe, even. They’re soft and concerned, burning holes through my soul as she focuses on me. The way she looks at me makes me feel like I want tobesomeone. She looks at me like she seesme, not an injury, not a veteran, not some crazy guy who can’t figure out how to exist outside the army.

I want to look away, to tell her to stop making me feel this—feel anything—but I can’t. Because she’s making me feel all these thingsfor her, and I’m helpless to resist. Because forbidden though it might be, I think there’s something growing between me and Katy Keller, and fuck if I don’t want to hold that hand resting on my wrist every day for the rest of my life.

Chapter nineteen

Jay

Istartedseeingatherapist. Turns out, Katy was right all along. It only took a couple of sessions and a few targeted coping techniques for the night terrors to calm down a little, and for the panic attacks to become fewer and further between. But each time I drive home from the therapist’s office, I feel stripped bare, exhausted and exposed. All I want is to be alone. But between my parents and Ruth, the Bevan family seems bound and determined to give me precisely zero space. Which is why I’ve deliberately booked my next few sessions on days when I know Mum and Ruth can’t badger me into a family dinner afterwards.

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