Page 150 of Holidating
The nights are long, and the days are short, which isn’t helping his mental health. He doesn’t sleep anymore. Not much anyway. When he closes his eyes, he’s back on patrol in Afghanistan, watching the distant hills for any movement that might be insurgents setting up for an attack.
His nights are so exhausting that sleep seems pretty futile lately. He feels like a leaky fuel pump—getting by, but just barely. It’s been like this for the entire six months he’s been home, and hiding it from his family takes every ounce of his self-control.
When he reaches the bottom of the Overlands’ long drive, the gate opens on its own. Which means that Nicolette is still standing in the front entryway, watching the video feed and delaying entering the warm house to do this small favor for him.
He looks both ways before turning onto the two-lane highway.But then the exhaustion overwhelms him, and he pulls off the road a quarter of a mile away. Coming to a stop on the shoulder, he puts the Jeep in park and leans back against the headrest, closing his eyes.
Thank you for the gift box, Nicolette. It meant a lot to me. That’s all he had to say to make things right. He just…couldn’t. Not with her douchey husband standing there smirking. With his titanium luggage and his shitty opinions.
Besides, it’s fine if she thinks Damien’s a dickhead. He has nothing to offer her. If she’d asked to see his newer drawings, he couldn’t even show her. They’re full of darkness and death. And so is he.
Afghanistan nearly killed him. Andnearlyis debatable in that sentence. It didn’t kill his body, but it murdered some corner of his soul.
She wouldn’t understand. Nobody can. Honestly, he wouldn’t evenwanther to understand. He watched Jarvis die during a firefight. Held his hand while the medic worked frantically trying to stop the bleeding.
There was nothing about it that made any sense. Death wasn’t anything like Hollywood wants you to think. Jarvis didn’t have any brave last words. He didn’t even have a chance to sayTell my Katie I love her. He just died on the dusty ground, a look of shock on his face.
He’ll carry that around with him forever. People like Nicolette and her ass of a husband will never understand. They’re lucky not to.
Damien stuffs a hand into his pocket and finds the five-dollar bill. He tosses it into the cupholder. At least it will buy him a shot of whiskey. He shoves his hand into his pocket one more time and finds what he was looking for. The marble Nicolette sent him. It’s been halfway around the world and back again, and unlike Damien, it’s unchanged. Still smooth to the touch and perfectly shaped.
He carries it with him always.
CHAPTER 8
ON THE BOOKSTORE SOUND SYSTEM: “UNDERNEATH THE TREE” BY KELLY CLARKSON
In the name of Christmas shopping, Nicolette is browsing an independent bookstore in Burlington. Her family has so much money that holiday shopping is futile. There’s never a thing that anyone really needs.
Still, she’s picked out the new Malcom Gladwell for her father and the new Dan Brown for Cam.
For herself, she’s getting a nonfiction book and also a copy of Stephen King’sRevival. She’s been waiting for this book for ages, and she’s 99 percent sure nobody in her family will have a clue about that. Just in case she’s wrong, she’ll stash the book in the closet until Christmas morning. And when it fails to appear, she’ll be able to read it anyway.
She has other errands to do, too. She has to visit a shoe-repair shop, and her stepmother wants her to pick up several flower arrangements for her annual party. But Nicolette finds herself lingering in the shop, scanning the colorful spines on the shelf. Because books are the most exciting thing in her life at the moment.
After she’s shopped the entire store, she finally adds herself to the line of holiday shoppers at the checkout desk, where two cashiers are working furiously.
As the line slowly inches forward, she becomes aware of a tall, dark-haired man across from her who’s peering at the books in herstack. Nicolette suddenly gets goosebumps.Damien, her mind offers up, even if she hasn’t yet seen his face.
She turns and braces herself to see the same bombed-out shell of a person she saw last time at the airport. But that’s not what she gets. No, this version of Damien locks her gaze on the first try. And then he smiles. “Nicolette. Wow. Hi.”
His hair is longer than she’s ever seen it before. He’s wearing an unfamiliar puffer jacket. She’s relieved he’s smiling, because after their last, disastrous meeting, a friendly expression would not be a given.
“Hi,” she says stupidly. Then she adds with a little more enthusiasm than necessary, “You look great.” She feels herself flush to the hairline. But this is how it’s always been. Damien always turns her into a blithering idiot just by showing his face.
It’s been, what, nine years since that first day he drove her to the airport? And she’s still a babbling mess. But he never seems to mind.
“Listen,” he says, cutting through her reverie. “I don’t know what you’re up to today, but if we ever get through this line, I’d really like to buy you a cup of coffee. You got a half hour for me?”
“Absolutely,” she says without even considering it.
Because it’s Damien.
Her heart runs a race inside her chest as they wait for their coffees at Uncommon Ground on Church Street.
That’s normal, right? You see an old acquaintance, and you feel effervescent inside? Like a flute of champagne poured from a newly opened bottle.
You’re married, she reminds herself.Get over your teenage crush.
