Rough Edge (The Edge #1)(5)

“When I should have been stopping him from beating her.”

“I’m going to get you out of the habit of blaming yourself.”

“Good luck.” He held out his hand, moving the subject away from the abuse of his mother as he always did. “Come on. It’s cold in here.”

The steps to the bedroom seemed like an eternal climb, but we wound up racing to the top. It didn’t matter who won. We both landed on the bed.

We held each other tight, and I felt safe starting a new life with him.



* * *



That night, with the whoosh of cars outside and a police siren whining far away, he woke with a grunt and a command. “Stop!”

I reached for my revolver, but it was locked away in a strange closet, in the strange bedroom, in a city that was a sea of stone.

But he was there, the street light blue on his cheek, and all was well as long as he was next to me.

“Caden? Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” He rolled over to face me. “Sorry.”

“What was it?”

“Dream. Nothing.”

PTSD was as real as the war itself, and I had to know if he was reliving it in his sleep. “Caden. Can you tell me?”

“Pieces of me were breaking off.”

“Were you in Iraq? In the dream?”

“No.” His denial was barely a whisper.

I took it for a normal nightmare and joined him in sleep.





Chapter Three





Caden





Greyson was back, and like good news when nothing’s going right or a seat by the radiator after a day in the snow, she brought relief to pain I forgot I was feeling.

As soon as she agreed to marry me, while I was still deployed, I started getting the house ready. I met with an architect and contractor on a short leave, and again on the way back from our wedding in California. I was barely off the plane before I started furnishing the house. I had an attending position waiting at Mt. Sinai, but she had nothing and I needed to give her everything.

The house had been unoccupied since I left. Dad’s office was a wreck. I’d had it ripped down to the studs. Had the shitty memories scraped out of the plaster and sanded off the wood. When I resigned my commission and returned, it was all details and new furniture.

That was when the dreams started.

Or more accurately, the dream. They were all the same dream, the way a woman was the same woman from all angles, naked or dressed. Same person, only time and situations changed.

I was somewhere in the house. The windows were painted over. I was in tremendous dream pain. Meaning I was terrified to the point of pain, but I couldn’t physically feel my body being torn in two.

Obviously. It was just a dream. I never felt pain in my dreams.

The dreams weren’t long. They came in the middle of the night, and I woke enraged, because I wasn’t just coming apart. Something was taking me apart. It had to be stopped.

But when I woke to Greyson’s voice, I wasn’t pissed off at the dream thing. I was fine, and I went back to sleep. It hadn’t come back in two nights.

“It’s nice to not have to rush through surgery,” I said, swinging my racquet at the tiny blue ball. It popped off the front wall, made it past the receiving line, and took off for the back wall.

Danny thought he was in an action movie, again, and tried to climb the wall to get it, managing to just get it back into play. I slammed it to the other side of the court while he was recovering.

“How about not getting shot at? Is that an improvement?” Danny said as I helped him up. He was a buddy from my residency at NYU Medical. Pediatric surgery, but he floated into general pediatrics when he didn’t have the intestinal fortitude to cut into children.

“No one was shooting at me.” I snapped up the ball and got ready for my serve. “It was easy.”

“I still think it was stupid,” he said. “But you lived, so whatever. They were your years to waste.”

“Wouldn’t have met Greyson.”

I served. He was better set up this time and won the point.

“Yes! One more and drinks are on you, Private.”

“Captain.”

“You’re nothing out here, buddy. What’s Greyson? A major? That higher than captain?”

“Yes, but we’re nothing here.”

“Your woman still ranks you.”

“Trash talk won’t win you the point.” I bounced the ball, setting up a serve that wouldn’t overpower him, which he’d be ready for, but one to surprise him.

“That’s right. I forgot you were unshakable.”

I served. He was off guard, recovering enough to return but not win. Two points later, I had the game.



* * *



The club’s lounge wasn’t crowded on weekdays. Out the floor-to-ceiling windows, the rooftops of Manhattan were laid out like a fallen dresser with drawers pulled out randomly. Water towers, HVAC units, greenhouses, and patios dotted the rooftops, and through the slit of Second Avenue, I saw the southern tip of the island.

Danny placed our drinks on the table by the window and threw himself into the chair. Guy couldn’t sit straight to save his life. I hadn’t noticed that until I got back from my second deployment. Sloppiness had always bothered me, but slouching never had. All kinds of new things bugged me now, but more things seemed petty and unimportant. Status symbols. Expensive things. A woman everyone else wanted. None of that was interesting anymore.