I leaned back in my seat. Would that be the café owner? A man named Liman?
Darius chuckled humorlessly. “Sounds like something you’d discuss in an ethics class in college, doesn’t it?”
I nodded with a dip of my chin.
He swallowed hard, still not making eye contact. “Now, say the person wearing the suicide belt is approximately seven years old…”
“Jesus Christ,” I breathed out.
My pulse went through the roof with the shock that tore through me, and I had nothing. Nothing I could say, nothing I could do.
Actually, there was something I had to say, and not for my sake.
“Darius, I—”
“I don’t have anything else to say about it,” he said and coughed into his fist. The distress was written all over him. As was the guilt.
“That wasn’t what I—” I blew out a harsh breath. “You did what you had to do. I’m not going to pretend to know what you’re going through, but I urge you to think about the lives you undoubtedly saved.”
He didn’t want to hear it. “It ain’t that simple.”
“I know it’s not. I won’t say anything else, but—there you go. Stay here and let me help out until you’re back on your feet.”
He didn’t respond verbally, but he mustered a small nod and returned to staring at the food he probably wouldn’t eat.
I’d certainly lost my appetite.
There was a sense of loss in me that I didn’t dare poke at. It wasn’t anything Darius had said. It was always there, but it became heavier when an occasion arose where I felt an urge to either take care of someone or shoulder responsibility. I didn’t feel equipped or worthy; meanwhile, I’d once made it my purpose in life to be someone’s rock. Someone’s protector.
Sometimes, I wondered if all my memories were actually real. From such an early age, between four and five, I could recall events with perfect clarity, and they always involved shielding Finn from our mother’s sadistic wrath. She’d gone fairly easy on Finn at first, but I’d seen it coming. I’d known somehow that the spankings and squeezes would morph into rougher torture, and I hadn’t even hesitated. It’d been instinct to place myself between them as much as possible.
Finn and I were the same age. I actually didn’t know who had been born first, but he had developed slower physically. When we were four, nobody would guess he was my twin. It wasn’t until we were around nine or ten that he’d caught up. It’d resulted in him being the kid brother and me shouldering the role of protector.
I’d been good once upon a time.
I couldn’t say that about the man I’d become, and that was why some memories and urges felt foreign.
I didn’t do good things anymore.
“I gotta pretend I have my shit together at dinner with the folks tomorrow.” Darius broke the silence. “You mind coming with?”
I shook my head. “I’ll be there.”
“I appreciate it.”
It was nothing. It would give me the chance to check in with the girls too. Pipsqueak was trying to stay positive by focusing on school and the fact that Ryan was coming home from his deployment in January, but Willow was pretty distracted by Jake being gone. Last time I’d had dinner over there, she’d admitted that it was affecting her performance in school.
“You got any plans for the holidays?” Darius wondered.
“No. I’m trying to avoid them.” Both Pipsqueak and their mother had invited me over to their place.
“So am I. You wanna head up to our cabin in Whistler?” he asked. “A week in the middle of nowhere—no one around for miles. Pizza and whiskey, no caroling, no gifts, no Christmas decorations.”
“You had me at no one around for miles.”
I could hear myself laughing, I could feel the effects of the alcohol, and I was in great company. It was a new year, Ryan was home, we were at our regular bar, the music was good… And yet, the happiness was skin-deep and veiled the reality, which was that I was a ticking fucking time bomb.
“Hey!” Ethan tried to yell over the Friday night crowd. We laughed our asses off as he climbed up to stand on the table. Then he let out a sharp whistle and shouted again. “Hey!”
The music didn’t stop, but all eyes turned to our corner of the old bar.
Ethan dragged Ryan up to stand on his chair.
“My big brother just got home from Iraq—”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Ryan groaned through his chuckles.
“A real hero, this one.” Ethan grinned blearily and poked his finger at Ryan’s chest. “Ladies, if you wanna buy a Marine a drink, now’s your chance. Fucker’s single too!”
I exchanged a drunken smirk with Darius and loosened my tie.
There wasn’t a chance in hell Ryan was going home alone.
The women at the bar threatened to raise the roof with their catcalls, the sheer volume so loud that it hurt my ears and made my grin falter. It was dizzying, all of it. Too much commotion, too loud, not enough air.
Darius nudged me and jerked his chin toward the exit.
I nodded.
We managed to squeeze by the people crowding our table, and I gulped in some cold air as soon as we joined the group of smokers.
Darius smoked, and I was drunk enough to ask for one.
The cold air felt so fucking good.
“Thanks.” I accepted the cigarette and lighter and turned my back on the wind to light it up.
“You all right?”
I nodded and took a slow drag, and I handed back the lighter. “Yeah. Good to have Ry home. Now we just need Jake, and then your family of crazy Irish hellions is complete again.”
He chuckled and took a pull from his own smoke.
We walked away from the other smokers, and I peered out over the marina that lay quiet and dark this time of year. But the boardwalk right next to it exploded with life on the weekends, regardless of the season, and I spotted several couples and groups of friends heading for the pier.
I took another drag and eyed one of the couples. They were too far away, but I could see them kissing and holding each other.
When was the last time I hugged someone? It had to be Angie, and that was before she stabbed me in the back. So…going on three years. Three years without human touch that wasn’t ephemeral—like the one-armed hugs and pats on the backs I exchanged with buddies—or laced with anything but affection, such as meaningless hookups.
I blew out a breath and felt the nicotine kicking in, providing an extra buzz.
“Sometimes I wish I were gay,” I muttered.
“Yeah?” Darius bent down and retied one of his boots.
“You’ve figured out I struggle with women—” I huffed when he snorted. Fine, so I’d been obvious. Whatever. “Well, it gets fucking lonely sometimes, but it’s difficult letting someone close when you kinda hate them based on their gender.”
Darius grunted and rubbed his shoulder as he straightened, and then he took the cigarette from between his lips and flicked away some ashes. “You’ll realize one day that both men and women fucking suck.”
“That’s comforting.”
He slanted a lazy smirk. “You want me to hug you, buddy?”