Rough Around the Edges (27 page)

“For a while my doctor at the VA had me on antidepressants to prevent the headaches. They helped, but fucked with me in so many other ways. I’m done with them. Stopped taking them about a month and a half ago after they made me pass out in the shower and hit my head. Woke up in a pool of blood and water and said to hell with those pills.”

He’d been so pissed when he’d woken up, his nostrils and chest burning from the little bit of dirty water he’d inhaled. He’d hit his head pretty hard, but once he’d come back around he’d been clear-headed enough to realize that he’d been lucky not to drown in his own shower water. He’d sworn off the pills then – gone cold turkey.

“Oh.” The fire was gone from her voice as she tipped her head, gaze sliding away from his face.

He stopped leaning on the bed and stood up straight. “Have you seen my jacket? Wore it in here yesterday…”

Before she could answer, the door swung open, admitting a guy in a white coat and glasses – obviously a doctor, but not the one he’d seen the night before.

“Mr. Moore? I’m Doctor Lawson.” He glanced at Ryan, then back down at his chart. “The nurse told me you’re determined to leave. Before you go, I’m going to write you a prescription for an anti-depressant – the same one you were taking up until six weeks ago. It’s important that you resume taking it. I’m sure your doctor at the VA will agree.”

“No.” Ryan shook his head. “I won’t take those pills again.”

The doctor leveled a look at him over the rims of his glasses, mouth pressed into a flat line. “You’re here in the emergency room for a reason. You fell off a ladder and fractured your wrist. Next time, it could be the roof, and it could be your neck that’s broken. Would you prefer that over dealing with the side-effects of preventative medication?”

Ryan didn’t say anything – not before the doctor left, and not after. Taking Ally by the hand, he led her from the room and out of the hospital. He used the last of his cash on a cab – one he should’ve called for her the night before instead of allowing her to stay.

His place was closer to the hospital than Ally’s. The cab driver stopped there first. When the brakes screeched faintly, it was the first sound to break the silence that had reigned during the ride. “I’ll give him enough to take you home,” Ryan said, climbing out of the cab. “Thanks for staying with me.” He felt like a jerk saying it, but he would’ve felt even worse if he hadn’t thanked her at all.

“What are you talking about? I thought I was coming home with you. Couldn’t you use some help?” The wide-eyed look of betrayal she gave him caught him off guard – if it had been a physical blow, it would’ve knocked the wind right out of him.

“You don’t have to do that. Go home and get some rest – I know last night was shitty for you.”

“It’s fine.” She climbed out of the cab before he could breathe another word. “I got plenty of sleep. And even if I hadn’t, I’d stay.” She stepped close to his side, arms crossed and eyes fixed on the top floor of the complex.

Fingers stiff, he pulled the last few bills from his wallet and surrendered them to the driver.

“You sure?” he asked as the cab pulled away, leaving them alone by the building. Maybe it was stupid to ask when the cab had already gone, but the thought of walking upstairs with her and letting her waste her entire day at his bedside was more agonizing than his broken wrist.

“Yeah. Of course.” She touched his unhurt arm, fingers resting gently against the waffle weave of his long-sleeved tee.

What the hell could he say? It wasn’t like he could leave her on the street while he holed up inside his apartment. So they climbed the stairs, together.

They’d barely stepped inside when she offered to cook breakfast.

“You don’t have to do that. I’ll eat later.” A part of him wanted to counter her offer and insist on cooking for her – she hadn’t eaten anything since rushing to the hospital the night before and she had to be hungry.

But he was already standing at the edge of the couch, and what little rejuvenating effects his night of sleep had provided had faded. As he stood there, gravity weighed on his body, reminding him how useless he was in the wake of pain, stress and drugs. He succumbed, sank down and slumped on the couch. The crappy second-hand sofa had never felt so welcoming. If only he’d been alone, he would’ve been out like a light and could’ve stayed that way for ages – forever, preferably.

Ally joined him on the couch, perching on the edge of a cushion. She’d slept in her makeup and without any toiletries, but she still looked beautiful – so beautiful he could hardly stand to look at her as the light pouring through the window backlit her, framing her face and lighting up her halo of unruly curls. He didn’t deserve her, and she definitely didn’t deserve him being pissed at her for gracing him with her presence.

She met his eyes, holding his gaze captive. “I want to help you, Ryan. And it’s not like I have anywhere else I need to be today. At least let me make you some breakfast.”

He shook his head, needing physical motion to break eye contact. “I don’t want you to help me, Ally.”

“It’s not a big—”

He recognized the determination in her voice – it was evidence of the same spirit that made her fit for fighting in the ring, but he couldn’t take it. His reserves of energy had been utterly depleted. And his own fighting spirit had abandoned him, leaving him defenseless against her determination, against her endless sympathy. Sheer, sudden anger was all that enabled him to reply. “I’m tired of you helping me all the fucking time. Just don’t.”

The way her eyes widened would’ve shamed a better man, but when she didn’t say anything, relief was all he was capable of feeling. He didn’t even drop his gaze.

“Sorry,” she said after a small, quiet eternity, her voice as weak as he felt.

Finally, he experienced a stab of guilt. For a second, he longed to take what he’d said back, to take her by the hand and keep her there with him.

The notion was short-lived; shame choked it to death in a matter of seconds. He curled his wayward hand into a fist and willed himself not to give in to the idiotic impulse to touch her one last time. “Go home, Ally. There’s no reason for you to be here.” He finally looked away.

She stood. “Fine. I won’t bother you if you really don’t want me here.”

He stared straight ahead – he couldn’t watch her leave. His heart beat hard – so hard he could feel his pulse jumping in his broken wrist. Driving her away was an exercise in self-hatred, and it took a physical toll.

As he unfurled his fist, his fingers ached from the strain of being clenched so tightly. He jammed his hand into his pocket, fishing clumsily for his wallet. “I’ll give you money for a cab.”

“I don’t need your money.” Her retort was quick, her voice higher than it had been a minute ago.

He couldn’t block out the sound of her sliding back the deadbolt, or the blast of cold air that rushed in through the open door, but he chose to ignore them both as he continued to stare at the wall.

She closed the door behind herself, but the chill remained after she was gone.

He didn’t bother to lock up behind her. He didn’t bother to move at all for what seemed an eternity. His entire body thrummed and pulsed with an intensity he didn’t have the energy to identify, but his mind was mostly numb. He closed his eyes, seeking the dead sleep that had been calling to him like a siren ever since he’d stepped out of the cab.

He couldn’t find it. He laid there for hours – or maybe it was only minutes – growing more exhausted by the second, and still, it eluded him. How was that even possible when just a year ago he’d been able to fall asleep at the drop of a dime, like all marines learned to do? Nothing was the same anymore.

When he finally faced his sleepless reality and opened his eyes, the sight of his empty apartment set fire to his will to rest.

He stood, lurching, and paced across the living room. Head and wrist aching, he went nowhere, just made a pointless round of the living and kitchen area as his heart pumped enough blood through his veins to sustain a marathon runner.

Though he’d never been more ill-prepared for a fight, he craved one. Alone in his apartment, the desire festered inside him, sour and all-consuming. He gave the couch a kick and felt some part of its internal structure give way beneath his shin which, amazingly, didn’t break.

It hurt like hell, though. He paced the room anyway, beyond caring. The physical pain dominated his thoughts for a while but eventually faded and left him back at square one, where his mind slipped into the past. Reliving his exchange with Ally hurt more than kicking the couch had.

His pulse hammered in his ears, a savage beat that reminded him of how seeing her always caused his heart to pick up pace. He was well-acquainted with all the things that were wrong with him, but what the hell was wrong with her?

She’d smothered him with her constant offers to help, and on the occasions when he hadn’t been receptive, she’d insisted – whether he’d wanted it or not, she’d forced her assistance upon him. How could she not realize how that grated on him, how it eroded what little pride he had left until he couldn’t respect himself, couldn’t respect her?

In the moments when he looked at her and saw only his own weakness reflected back, he hated her as much as he hated himself.

He paced so hard that the floor shook beneath his feet, then slumped against a wall, letting its surface grind against his spine, pinching the skin between his vertebrae and the drywall.

Hating her wasn’t right, and it wasn’t really how he’d felt, either – those feelings had been for himself. It was just that during his worst moments, his flaws were all he could see, even when he looked at her. Maybe it was because he’d felt so close to her, even though they’d only known each other for a few weeks. Or maybe it was because he was fucked-up beyond any hope of being able to function in the close company of another person.

Yeah. The tight feeling in his chest and throat told him that was about right. What had he been thinking when he’d pursued Ally, when he’d taken her out to dinner, bought her wine and sat with her in the dark of the movie theater like he was a normal person, like the charade could last for longer than a few dates?

The lure of her beauty and his own selfish desire had skewed his judgment. He’d gone after her thinking he was a little rough around the edges, but basically whole. In reality, he was rough around the edges like the piece of metal that had bled Gibson dry had been rough around the edges – he was all edge, all twisted. There was no part of him that could be touched without causing damage.

The painfully clear truth caused a sharp pain in his neck, right over one carotid artery. The piece of shrapnel that had taken Gibson out had been cleaned and photographed once removed, the image displayed to hundreds of marines, used to show them what they were up against in Afghanistan, how they might die if they weren’t careful – and maybe even if they were.

He’d be like that to Ally now – a twisted warning. It was a sick truth, but a truth nonetheless. After everything she’d shared with him, after everything she’d been through, he’d gone and broken trust he shouldn’t have taken advantage of in the first place.

He was worse than useless – he was toxic, someone who spread misery like a disease. It had been less than three weeks since he’d broken his nine month long self-imposed quarantine, and he’d already hurt someone else.

He knew he couldn’t let it happen again, just like he knew he couldn’t take it back.

Chapter 16

A shiver raced down Ryan’s spine, defying the overwhelming heat. Or maybe it was only a bead of sweat. Either way, he sat a little straighter and breathed a little harder as the Humvee rolled steadily forward, its engine humming as the afternoon sun beat down on the convoy snaking its way across the desert.

It was coming.

He’d barely processed the thought when the world erupted in a burst of light and sound, the sensory overload announcing a familiar cataclysm – one he remembered like the particularly haunting nightmare it was.

So it wasn’t a surprise when he lost all sense of direction and time, his teeth rattling as the entire world rocked around him. The deafening noise, blinding light and penetrating pain had all been ground into his bones by now – written into his DNA. The explosion was a part of him, knowledge and pain encased in the synapses of his damaged brain. The realization surrounded him for long moments, the only thought in his head.