He stepped into the shower, spun the dial to cold and braced himself against the tiles as the frigid spray poured down on his overheated skin. He was breathing hard and he couldn’t honestly say that it was just down to the run. But arousal was so much better than the unappeased ache that he’d been left with the moment Freya had gone.
Her back arched in his mind, her head lost against the pillow, her breasts in his hands and her taste on his tongue, a long slow sweep of her clitoris and the cry of her pleasure in his ears. He took himself in hand, his grip like steel sliding slowly down to the hilt of his erection, and all he wanted was her hands. Her mouth. Her touch. The mockery of imitation sad and pathetic, enough to cut through his arousal.
He slammed the fleshy side of a fist against the wall. Once. Then twice. It wasn’t right. Something deep inside was itching and scratching as if to get out and he hated it.
To face it you need to change the way you think about it. To not see it as a threat, but as an experience.
His own words came back to haunt him. He flicked off the shower and grabbed a towel, drying himself with ruthless strokes that grazed his skin. He pulled fresh clean clothes on and poured a cup of coffee, turning to lean back against the sideboard.
He looked over to find the note Freya had left him.
You should go home now, Kjell.
His gut clenched. He saw his father—the disappointment that would be waiting for him. He’d failed again. As a soldier. As a son. He clenched his jaw. But he wouldn’t fail as a friend. Before he could change his mind, he picked up his phone and keyed in a number he knew by heart. The international dialling tone sounded harsh, impatient, and for a second he thought the call would ring out.
‘Sì?’Distracted—irritated, even—the tone wasn’t what he’d expected.‘Pronto?’
‘Marella?’
‘Cristo, Kjell? Is that you?’ Enzo’s wife asked in English.
‘Yes.’
Static shifted in his ear as if she had covered the speaker. Faint Italian words sounded in the background and the static shifted again, making way for a deep sigh.
‘Are you okay?’ she asked him.
He barked out a sad laugh. ‘That was my question to ask you,’ he chided. He could imagine her smiling a little, but he knew she was waiting for him to answer. ‘Yes. No. Maybe?’
‘That would be my answer to the question you wanted to ask,’ she said quietly.
There was a moment of silent grief shared across skies and countries.
‘I’m sorry I didn’t—’
‘No. No, there’s no apologies here,’ she interrupted him before he could even finish. ‘None, Kjell. Enzo was a soldier. It was more than a uniform, for him as much as you. I knew that before I married him and I knew it when I...when I buried him. He was and always will be the love of my life. And I wouldn’t have changed him for the world.’ The strength of her words, the fierceness of her love—he felt it in his heart.
‘He saved them, Marella. The children he protected. He saved every single one of them.’ He couldn’t give her much, but he could give her that. He heard the tears that Enzo’s wife cried in that moment, felt them as if they were his own.
‘Grazie, Kjell. Thank you.’
‘I should go—’
‘Wait,’ she said, cutting off his attempt to end the call. ‘He would have wanted...’ Her breath hitched and she tried again. ‘He would have wanted you to take the medal.’
‘What?’ He felt the blood drain from his face.
‘The guys were talking about it at the wake. The medal you were refusing. Enzo wouldn’t have wanted that, Kjell,’ she said, the rebuke in her tone gentle but clear. ‘He always said that you deserved more than one for what you’d done over the years.’
Tears thickened her voice as she thanked him for calling and he felt his own rise up, not feeling an ounce of shame for the evidence of his own grief. They spoke for a few more minutes, made promises to visit each other as soon as possible, and Kjell ended the call feeling bruised but not beaten.
Once again, his gaze drifted to the crumpled note Freya had left him.
You should go home now, Kjell.
Freya had left him without saying goodbye. Without hearing the words she deserved to hear. Screwing up the note she’d left him, he threw it on the flames of the wood burner.
Kjell was done with unfinished business.