“Yeah?”
“Mm. It makes you seem less…” She shrugs. “I don’t know, formidable, I guess. Like it gives you a weakness.”
“I don’t like weaknesses, Abigail. You’re insane if you think saying that pleases me.”
She snickers and lowers down so her head rests on my pillow. I turn back to my side, because I guess I like pillow talk now. And though I’d rather be fucking, or dreaming of fucking, this works too.
“Your nose has been broken a few times?” Her breath hits my chin as she speaks, making me smile. I close my eyes, because it’s literally impossible to have my nose stroked and keep them open. “How many people did you annoy?”
I slide my hand beneath the covers and hold onto her hip. She tenses for a moment, but I don’t go higher. “I’ve annoyed a lot of people in my life. Annoying a dude with fists is always better than annoying a dude with a gun.”
“How many times?”
I open one eye. “My nose?” When she nods, I close it again and relax. “I don’t even know. A few.”
“Does it hurt?”
“Little bit. Hurts more when it’s being reset and healing. Hurts less than a gunshot wound.”
Her breath speeds a little. “Have you ever been shot?”
“Few times. Nothing that’s killed me yet.”
I swear I can feel her disapproval in the air.
“That’s not funny.”
“I never said it was. I think being shot is the most unfunny thing that’s ever happened to me.” I knead her hip and chuckle. “I’ve been hit three times. Two were pretty superficial and needed nothing more than butterfly bandages. Flesh wounds.”
She gulps. “And the third?”
My hand leaves her hip for just a moment and lifts the blankets. I sneak a look at her bare legs, knowing that she hasn’t got panties on, then I stroke the old wound about two inches above my heart and watch her face pale.
“It’s all better now, but I was hit a few years back. I was serving overseas, and we were driving from point to point, because our guys were ambushed on the north side of the town we were in. We drove over an IED on one of the roads I’d considered safe. It tossed us into the air, and killed two of my friends instantly.”
I reach up and strokehernose now, because she needs the comfort. I’m not sure I’ve ever met someone as empathetic as her in my life.
“There were five of us in the car. I was riding shotgun. My driver and the guy sitting behind him were gone before we dropped back to the ground. Me and two others got out, but we were ambushed and pinned against the wreckage.” I turn to my stomach and lower the covers so she can see the scars on my back. I have what looks like road rash, burn scars, and the exit wound from the bullet that should have killed me.
My whole body quivers when she strokes the rough skin.
“I did what I could to help my brothers, but I was kinda shot up and useless. Ironic, considering I’d chewed one of them out only that morning for being lazy and incompetent. He saved my life and never said ‘I told you so,’ or expected a thank you.”
“Do you still hang out with him?”
I shake my head. “Nope. He died the very next day.”
I turn back to my side and pull her close when her breath catches. I don’t know why I say these things so callously. I knew it would hurt her, but I still said it without attempting to soften the blow. Because I’m an asshole.
“It was quick and clean. He didn’t suffer, Abigail.”
She sniffles and wipes a hand beneath her nose. “What happened to him?”
“He was patrolling the field hospital I was laid up in. We always had several on patrol, so he was one of many. He wanted to stick close to me, I guess. But he was taken out in one single shot. No pain, no thought. He was here, then he wasn’t.”
“That’s so sad.” Her eyes well up and spill over. “Did you get to say sorry for chewing him out?”
I shake my head. “I did not. The chewing wasn’t undeserved, though. He had been lazy, and he was copping an attitude every time someone spoke to him. We were soldiers, Abigail. And we didn’t exist except as a whole. Consider our army one single body; some of us were the arms, some the legs. Some were the brains, and others the heart. We weren’t afforded individuality or bad days. If the arms stop working, we’re kinda fucked. If the legs stop moving, we become sitting ducks. So I tore him up and demanded he become one of the team again.”