Page 76 of The Way We Fell

We’ve just about managed to compose ourselves when Katy settles in my arms, her back pressed against my chest. It’s a position we’ve found ourselves in countless times. She smiles up at me with heavy-lidded eyes, and not for the first time, I’m struck by her beauty. But this time, it feels different.

On the surface, it’s obvious to any idiot with eyes that she’s stunning—huge brown eyes, clear, creamy skin, heart-stopping smile. But even more than that, she’s beautiful on the inside. She’s warm and compassionate, empathetic almost to a fault. She’s loyal, thoughtful, generous with her time and energy, and she’s absolutely whip-smart and funny as hell, regardless of how she thinks of herself. She’s beautiful, inside and out, and fuck it, I’m crazy about her. I’m in love with Katy Keller, my little sister’s best friend, and I don’t even care who knows it.

Chapter thirty-nine

Katy

Iforcemyeyesopen against the pull of sleep. There’s no light in the crack between the curtains. No song from the early birds on the wire outside my window. It’s still early—the middle of the night. But something woke me. There’s a persistent buzz from my bedside table, and a rhythmic thud shaking the walls of my house. I slap my hand around beside my bed, trying to locate the buzzing. My vibrator is exactly where I left it after last night’s phone call with Jay, and it’s switched off. Just like I remember. But as I continue to fumble around in the dark, my hand closes around my phone. The screen goes black for just a moment, before lighting up again with Jay’s photo. His half-smile with that almost-dimple shine up at me as the thumping continues.

I fling the sheets off my legs, cross the room in three strides and launch myself down the stairs to the front door. One look through the peep hole confirms everything. My worst dreams. My best. Jay, banging on my door in the middle of the night.

He had a nightmare a week or two ago; the first one I witnessed. It was scary as hell, hearing the panic in his voice when he woke with a yell, and watching him tremble as he recovered from the adrenaline rush. He told me later that the nightmare was less intense than they’ve been before, and that the aftermath was easier to manage—whether because he copes better, or because I was with him, neither of us could say. But this one… this looks like it was a bad one.

I wrench the door open, heart in my throat.

“Oh, sweetheart.” I open my arms and he stumbles forward, falling into them the moment I open the door. His eyes are dark-rimmed and bloodshot, his T-shirt damp with sweat. He’s only in his pyjama pants, a T-shirt, and his unlaced boots. I can’t be sure, but I think he walked here. There’s no sign of his car on the quiet street outside, and his skin carries the chill of night. The fear in his eyes is one I’ve never seen before, and it twists like a knife in my gut. I kick the door closed and lead him to the sofa, flicking on just one dim lamp in the corner as we go.

His eyes are hollow and haunted as he takes a seat in the corner. The first time we did this—the first time I saw his eyes look haunted like this—I sat at the opposite end, but we’re past that now. We’ve shared almost everything two people can possibly share. This time, I crawl into his lap, nuzzling close and holding his head to my chest. I can feel his heart racing against me, feel the way his blood rushes through his veins as he holds himself tense enough to tremble.

“I’ve got you, love,” I whisper into his hair. I press kisses to the top of his head as his hands come to hold my hips, fingertips digging in hard enough to bruise. I can feel the coolness of his skin through his pyjama pants, and I reach behind him for a blanket to wrap around us both. “You’re safe now. You’re safe with me.”

It feels like hours, but it’s only a few minutes before his heavy, shaky breaths begin to even out and his body begins to relax in my hold. I rest my lips against his hair, trying to regulate my own breathing. Pushing down the fear that clenched an icy fist around my heart when I found him on my doorstep. And then the pride that warmed it, grew it to ten times its size, when I realised he’d sought me out. That in a moment of struggle, in his fear and panic, I’m the one he thinks of. I’m the one he runs to. And something about that makes me tumble even further into the abyss ofloving Jay.

It takes another minute or two, but eventually, Jay’s breathing matches mine, and I loosen my grip. He drops his head against me, the weight knocking me off-balance and I almost tumble off his lap. Two strong hands tighten around my hips, and a quiet murmur heats the skin of my throat when he mumbles against me.

“Stay” I hear him say.

“I’m here, love.” I slide my fingers into his hair. It’s grown so much since January. It’s still on the shorter side, especially on the sides, but at the top where the length is coming out, it’s the same dark shade as his mother and sister, speckled with the barest hint of grey. Ruth made a joke about it at Jay’s birthday dinner, about him turning into a silver fox now he’s forty. But I love it. I curl my fingers, gripping the locks and holding him to me. “I’m not going anywhere.”

His hands flex a few times, and a long, shaky breath warms my skin.

“Thank you.”

I pull back, dipping my head and lifting his chin with my index finger. His eyes have lightened a little. They’re still bloodshot and ringed with purple, exhaustion evident in every inch of him, but some of the tension has gone.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Nightmare.”

I move to slide off his thighs, but his hands tighten their grip again.

“Hey, I’m not going anywhere.” He releases his hold and I slide onto the seat beside him, tucking myself against his chest, resting my head where I can hear his heartbeat. His arm immediately crushes me against him. “Just a nightmare?”

“I thought they were getting better, but they’re not.” His voice breaks as he says the words, and they shatter my heart. “I haven’t had one like this for a while. They—it feels so real. Like it’s happening all over again.”

I tilt my head to meet his eyes, cupping his jaw with my hand.

“You’re safe with me, love.”

“I know,” he whispers.

It’s quiet for a while. Neither of us speak. I think I fall asleep for a few brief moments, wrapped in Jay’s arms, surrounded by the scent of his cologne and the night air on his clothes. We’re still and silent for so long, the birds begin singing before either of us speak again.

“I was in the jeep again.” My fingers twist around the cotton of his T-shirt over his chest. I’ve heard this story before—at least, as much of it as he was willing to share at the time. The day he injured his leg. The day that ended his army career. The day he nearly died.

“The flames—it’s funny, you know. When they’re on your skin like that, they almost feel cold. But everything was different this time.”

“Different? In what way?” I force myself to remember everything I’ve been learning in school.Askopen questions. Let him say as much or as little as he wants, or needs. Don’t put words in his mouth.I swallow around the lump that forms in my throat. The same one that forms whenever he opens up about his time in the army. About the days I can tell he’d rather forget.

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