I’ll never know why I survived and the other guys didn’t.
It’s taken years for me to stop wishing I’d died with them.
Jake drains his glass and stares at me like he’s preparing for an interrogation. “When’s the last time you were with a woman?”
“Singular?”
His bark of laughter says he thinks I’m joking. I’m not about to clarify, even to him. Everyone handles pain and other problems in their own way. I’ve definitely got mine.
Jake shakes his head. “Okay, smartass. When’s the last time you took a woman on a proper date?”
Now, that is a question I don’t have an answer for, not even in jest. I shrug, realizing the truth would place me somewhere around the time I enlisted. Seven years ago. The night I blurted a clumsy proposal over dinner to the girl I’d been seeing all through high school. Tracy said yes, but she was gone three months after I woke up in a bed at Walter Reed.
“That long, huh?” Jake says, as if he can tell he’s making his point. “Christ, you can’t be hurting for selection. The city is full of beautiful women. Have you even met anyone you’d consider dating?”
For some insane reason, my mind instantly paints a picture of Evelyn Beckham’s face. I can still see her pale green eyes flashing in indignation beneath lush black lashes. I can still smell the vanilla-sweet scent of her skin when I moved in closer than I needed to just so I could fill my lungs with more of her.
I can still hear her rich, velvety voice pitched in irritation as she informed me that in her opinion the only foot I have is the wrong one. I smile to myself, amused at the irony of her remark.
“I’m not interested in dating anyone,” I tell my brother. “I’m not cut out for relationships. Not that I ever was.”
As for Evelyn Beckham, she’d be off-limits even if she wasn’t the sister of Nick Baine’s good friend and personal lawyer. I consider Andrew Beckham a friend, too, but that doesn’t mean the man won’t see that I’m cut loose in a minute if he hears I gave his sister a hard time.
Hell, after the way I pissed her off, I wouldn’t besurprised if she was at the Baine Building demanding her brother and Nick dismiss me right now.
And if she does, I probably can’t blame her.
If I didn’t think it would be a further overstep, I’d find a way to reach her and apologize. Not out of concern for my job, but because I left her upset and thinking I was an obtuse, arrogant asshole.
“You gonna call her?”
“Who?”
Jake smirks. “Whoever she is that has you scowling and gripping that beer glass so hard you’re going to crush it.”
I let go of the glass and shake my head, a ready denial about to roll off my tongue. But before I can say anything, I see my father heading our way.
He’s still a powerful presence in his sixties, even with the slight hitch in his step and the diminished muscle tone of his once-intimidating physique. His eyes are trained on me like laser beams, disapproval in both his blue gaze and the flat line of his mouth inside the graying frame of his new beard.
I groan under my breath. “Fuck.” I’m not aware I’ve muttered the word out loud until Jake swivels around to see who’s approaching from behind him.
He gets up as the old man nears us, as if the response to stand at attention comes to him as naturally as breathing. I remain seated, refusing to give my father the satisfaction of seeing me adjust to find my balance on my prosthesis.
Jake fills the instant, heavy silence. “Hey, Pop. Great party, huh? What a turnout.”
Dad’s still glowering at me as he grunts a non-response. When he speaks, it’s directed at my brother asif I’m not even there. “I need to go home, son. My car’s parked down the block. Run and get it for me, will you?”
Christ, he sounds worse than tired. Exhausted. Depleted.
“Yeah, no problem,” Jake says, taking Dad’s keys. “Let me square my tab with Tommy first, then I’ll bring your car around back.”
“I’ve got the drinks,” I murmur, already reaching into my jacket pocket for my wallet. I feel my father’s eyes on me as I set the key fob to my Lexus on the bar, then pull a couple of twenties from the fold of larger bills in my wallet.
Jake claps me on the shoulder. “Thanks, Gabe. Be right back.”
He takes off, leaving me alone with the man I looked up to more than anyone else when I was a boy. The man who probably never loved me, and now makes no secret of the fact that he despises me.
I can’t think of a single word to say to him.
