Have Mercy - Christina Lee Page 0,32

here for him if he needed anything.

“What?”

“The dreams,” I said, finally meeting his eyes.

He sputtered, his mouth opening and closing as if he either couldn’t believe I’d figured it out, or that I’d had the balls to ask. I’d stepped in it now, so there was no turning back.

“I hear you sometimes,” I confessed. “I came out here to make sure you were okay. I didn’t want to intrude, but I’m way more familiar with the property than you are.” He stared at me, his eyebrows practically to his hairline, as I continued, “But you don’t have to tell me anything. Just walk right on by into the house, and I won’t be offended.”

And then Julian did walk by me. My shoulders dropped in defeat, and my stomach bottomed out from guilt. Shit, I hoped I didn’t just ruin everything.

But then he paused in front of the door and sighed. He looked back at me with this heaviness in his gaze, like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders, and most likely he did. It was why I was trying to reach out and tell him I had plenty to go around myself. Hell, maybe if we combined ours, it wouldn’t feel so substantial anymore.

Where in the hell had that thought come from?

It would’ve probably looked strange if anyone saw us standing there watching each other like that, but it didn’t feel weird at the time, only real and raw. Like there were unspoken words hanging between us and that same crackling tension in the air I’d felt around him before. I didn’t look away and neither did he, though I wondered if he would think I was some creeper or something. But he was giving it back just as good.

And then, as if he’d made up his mind, his hand dropped from the door handle and he walked over to the swing and sat down. The swing bucked from the weight of him, and when his thigh pressed against mine, all the hairs on my legs rose from the contact. Still, I didn’t move away. Because we were both bigger guys, there seemed to be just enough room for both of us, but I supposed Ainsley could’ve squeezed herself between us if she’d wanted to.

One of those strange, random thoughts again.

His skin was warm, his thigh solid against mine as we swung silently with the moon as a backdrop in the night sky. No way would I ruin this moment, even if he didn’t want to talk. I’d be here to listen if he did. Lord knew, I could’ve used a friend a time or two.

“Mostly I dream about the explosion,” he said in a tight voice.

I stiffened briefly, then kept my eyes glued to a couple of twinkling stars. “Did you lose any brothers?”

“Two from my squad…and a boy from the village who was trying to sell them…sell them…” He screwed his eyes shut as if to blot out the visual.

Holy fuck.

“Hey, it’s okay, I’m here,” I said in a soothing voice, placing my hand on his thigh right above his knee, which from my recollection was not the injured one. He trembled at my touch, and I hoped that meant it brought him comfort. “What were their names?”

He smiled a little, as if thinking of a happier moment. “Smithy and Miller. Miller Time, we used to call him. And…Arash. His mom would make this bread that he would—”

His face crumbled then, so I tightened my grip on his muscle, which seemed to bring him out of it. He looked down at my hand, then up to my eyes.

“I… Sorry.” I removed my fingers. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“You didn’t.” He bit his lip, then shook his head. “Just the opposite, actually.”

My heart felt like it was throbbing from the tension, and when I felt his thigh press against mine again, it somehow grounded me too.

“I was an explosives specialist, you know?” he said after a long moment of quiet. “And I couldn’t save them.”

“But you were hurt too.” I glanced at his knee, then remembered the scars I saw on his chest when I’d barged into the bathroom.

“Yeah, from flying shrapnel.” He scratched absently at his shoulder, the same motion he made in the shower. “Pelted me all at once, and I went down.”

“Fuck, I’m so sorry.” My throat felt thick. I couldn’t imagine what any of that must’ve felt like—not only losing people you’d gotten close to, but also to almost