How pathetic I must look to him.
Twenty-one with no friends in my phone, no one to talk to or go out with, kept a prisoner in my home, and needing my older brother to work some magic just to go out.
I’ll show him.
“Champagne!” I cry out toward Hank. “Champagne for everyone!”
Two hours later, I’ve lost count of the tasty drinks and shots I’ve been plied with.
The music is so loud I can’t discern my own heartbeat from the thumping bass, and the people around me have become my best friends.
My side aches from laughing so hard, and I lean onto the woman next to me, who breaks into soft giggles.
“I wish he’d brought you here sooner, Aerin,” she says. “You’re so sweet!”
“Isn’t she?” says a man. “Hey you wanna get out of here?”
“Do I!” The woman clutches at his arm and steps away but just as my racing heart starts to sink, she turns and takes my hand. “Are you coming?”
I shake my head slightly, fighting to get my eyes to focus through the haze of the club. “Where are we going?”
“Wherever we want to!” the couple laugh.
“Oh, are we leaving?” asks another member of the crowd whose name is lost to me. “We should go to Spice down the block!”
“Oooo I love Spice,” says another voice from behind me.
“Come on Aerin,” says the first woman, her hand still in mine. “Come with us!”
What little doubt I have about leaving fades at the sudden swell of warmth gained from the acceptance of these people and I nod quickly. “I want to!”
“But?” The woman leans in close. “What’s wrong? Got a curfew?”
It might be my imagination, but she almost sounds like she’s mocking me. “No,” I say indignantly as her weight against me causes me to lean back into the bar. “I just have a shadow, that’s all.”
“Oh that’s nothing!” She cackles and tugs at my hand. “Come on. Your shadow won’t know what hit him!”
4
FALCO
I can’t take my eyes off her.
From obligation and a growing personal desire that’s crept up over the past week we’ve been together.
I live my life balanced on a knife’s edge.
Working for the Paramattis as an enforcer gave me an outlet for the pent-up anger and frustration that lives buried inside my chest.
A handful of sleepless nights, a spike of fear at someone slamming their car door too loudly, and I can usually work it all out by beating up someone who isn’t doing what they’re told.
Mercenary work was my only answer when I finally turned my back on the army.
Civilian life wasn’t in my blood anymore, especially not when an attack of my PTSD put my ex-girlfriend at risk.
Despite my fury toward her and her betrayal, she didn’t deserve to take the brunt of the sharp edge I’d become during my time in the military.
When you leave, they tell you it will be hard. They tell you to seek help.
