I blinked a few times as if I were coming down from a daze. My body always reacted to him that way. I cleared my throat as I widened the door. “Come in.”
“Thanks,” he said, walking past me. If I hadn’t been paying attention, I wouldn’t have noticed the limp as he made his way to my sofa and sat down.
I shut and locked the door before following him. “Do you want something to drink?”
“Water would be great.”
I went to the fridge and pulled out two bottles before sitting down next to him. I offered the bottle and he took it, his fingers grazing mine. Just a small touch turned me into mush. I couldn’t imagine what kissing him again would be like.
“Are you alright? You seem like you’re in your head.” His eyes were trained on me as he took a sip of water.
A chill jolted down my spine. What was wrong with me? I brushed my palms together and glanced up at him. “Sorry. I’ve actually been nervous about talking to you.”
He smirked. “You’ve been nervous?”
I sucked on my bottom lip and shrugged. “After reading the letters, I realized you’d been through more than I could ever imagine. I can’t relate to it, but I can sympathize.”
He twisted his mouth to the side as he stared at me. “I’m assuming you’ve read about why I left in the first place.”
I nodded. It was a blanket statement that didn’t go into much detail, and I’d come up with so many different backstories to explain it. “It said you and your father didn’t get along and that you had to get out. Another letter mentioned a bottle being broken on you.”
“Well, shit.” His rough hands rubbed against his facial hair. “My father was a drunk. He’d drink himself stupid. Go on rants and smash bottles. The night I left, he smashed a bottle here.” He pointed to the scar above his lip.
My lips parted, instinctively I reached over and trailed my index finger over the scar. The scar was raised, rugged. It hurt me to know his father had done this to him.
“Evelyn?” His voice was hoarse and his eyes met mine with an intensity that snapped me back to where I was.
I pulled my hand back and sat it in my lap. “I’m sorry. I didn’t meant to—”
He placed his hand on top of mine. “It’s fine.”
Warmth spread through me at his touch. “Had he hit you before then?”
“No. Only screamed and threw shit. The moment he did, I had to leave. Ma didn’t do much for standing up to him.” His eyes wavered.
“How didn’t I know?” My words were soft. I was oblivious to all of it back then. How could I not have noticed he was struggling? I racked my brain for answers but came up empty.
“I didn’t want you to know. I hid it the whole time we were together. It was embarrassing. I didn’t want my girlfriend to know my father was an abusive alcoholic.”
“But I would’ve been able to be there for you.” Tears swam in my eyes, making his perfect face blur.
“You were there. You just didn’t know it.” He squeezed my hand as I shut my eyes, causing the tears to escape.
He chuckled. “You’ve always been a crier. I would’ve thought you’d outgrown that.”
I gasped and threw my hand out to whack his chest, but he caught it with his other hand. My heart skittered as my body melted into his touch. His scent was pure ecstasy. It’d changed from the over-used musky cologne he’d used as a teenager. He smelled like a man now. A spicy scent of cinnamon and ginger invaded my senses.
“Don’t worry, little spitfire. I still think it’s cute,” he said in a low, husky tone.
I’d been a virgin when we dated. He’d respected my wishes to wait until marriage, and we’d never had any instances of a thick sexual tension between us. But at that moment, desire radiated between us. I couldn’t find my voice. My cheeks flushed hot, and my stomach filled with butterflies. Breathless didn’t even come close to how I felt with his intense stare boring into me.
He loosened his grip on my hand. I pulled it back in my lap with the hand he was still holding. I took a few deep breaths before breaking the heavy silence. “Why didn’t you send me the letters? Or contact me? It took me years to be able to live with not knowing where you went or if you were okay.”
“I wanted to. I’d written you a ton of letters that I tore up before I started keeping them. My buddies fucked with me about it. I don’t have a good reason for not contacting you. I was a coward, and I’m sorry. I figured you’d hate me.”
“I could never hate you. I mean, don’t get me wrong. I was pissed off for a long time but mainly hurt. We never even broke up, Flynn. You just… left.”
He pulled away and raked his hands through his hair. “You’re right. I fucked up. But I was a fucked up kid. I had no idea what I was doing, and I didn’t want to break up with you or tell you bye. It isn’t an excuse. It was wrong. I should’ve reached out. That’s on me. I’m sorry.”
My lips curved into a smile. I’d wanted to hear that for years. Now that he’d said it, a huge weight lifted off me. “I’ve already forgiven you.”
“You’re something else.” He shook his head with a smile of his own.
“So, tell me what’s in that last letter. I’m ready to hear it.”
His smile fell as his jaw went slack. “I’ve never actually told anyone this story, so bear with me.”
I nodded. His body was tense, and I could see the weight he was carrying.
“A couple of years ago we deployed to Afghanistan. About
