Page 75 of This Life and All the Rest
She doesn’t saycome back to paint, but I don’t ask. I feel like there’s more.
All I want to do is hold her, kiss her, but both times we’ve hooked up, she took off right after.
It burrows into my brain, and I replay it over and over, her walking away. It reignites every insecurity and fear. It threatens to push me over the edge.
I need to stay away from her. It’s better for both of us. I can’t have her the way I want her—the way Ineedher—so I should let her go.
But fuck me, I don’t think I can.
So, despite my better interest, I nod.
“It’s fine. Just keep the key.”
I don’t point out that she could have just texted me. Her eyes fall to my thigh, then, and my scar burns.
“Does it hurt?” she asks quietly, and I tell her the truth.
“Yeah. Sometimes more than others, but it’s not nearly as bad as it was, so I don’t complain.”
“How does that work?” she asks, brow raised. I raise a brow back, and she bites her lip. “Since you’re sober, how do you deal with the pain?”
Ah, yes. Pain pills. Because I will always be a druggie.
“Extra strength ibuprofen and a lot of distraction,” I tell her with a wry grin. She flicks her eyes from me to the bag and back.
“And if your distraction causes pain?”
I shrug and walk toward her, grabbing my water bottle off the bench beside her and taking a swig before answering.
“It’s a catch-22, but at least it’s a pain I choose willingly.”
My answer doesn’t surprise her. It shouldn’t. It’s always how I’ve felt about pain. I’ve just gotten less self-destructive about it.
“Do you mind telling me how it happened?”
Her eyes lock on mine, and I know I’ll tell her anything when she looks at me like that.
“I was a crew chief on a Huey,” I tell her. “That’s the guy who—"
“Oversees operations on a helicopter. The second-most important person on the aircraft,” she interrupts with a smirk. “Did you forget who my dad is?”
I grin back and shake my head.
“AndI was the door gunner,” I say with a waggle of my brows.
“How sexy.” There’s no denying the flirty tone in her voice.
The hair on my arms stands and my heart kicks up, but I manage a tiny smirk. I hold her gaze for a few breaths longer than I would have four years ago. She gives back as good as she’s getting. We’re both a little unsettled when I start to speak again.
“We were running a night flight. Resupply support,” I say, avoiding going into detail. “It was enemy action. The pilot managed to get us far enough out before we went down, but there was cargo that came unstrapped. I pushed one of our guys out of the way, but it got me good. Pinned me, and the force from the crash snapped my femur.”
I take a deep breath through my nose as pain ricochets up and down my leg.
“I was lucky, though. It was mostly a clean break, and it didn’t puncture the skin.”
Lennon doesn’t say anything for a while. She just locks her eyes with mine while I wait for her to speak. I’m always waiting on Lennon, but I don’t mind. I’ve been waiting on her since we were teenagers. What’s a little longer?
“You saved that guy’s life?” she asks finally, and I shrug.
