Chapter 22
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
SULLY SAT ON THE bed with his back propped against the wall.
A hole in his sock came to his attention when a draft made him shiver.
He’d need to mend it when he found the energy.
His uniform wasn’t doing the bedding any favors.
He’d been sparring with Hoffman. Body bruised, exhaustion weighed down every part of him.
The promise of warmth tempted him to crawl beneath the blanket for a nap. If only he could muster the ability to make it that far.
Like I’d do anything but lay here watching the sun move across the sky out the fucking window anyway. I couldn’t be more pathetic. That’d be impossible.
In the days since Stone had told him about dreamwalking, Sully refused to discuss it and Stone hadn’t pushed him.
Neither mentioned the fact that they both lay awake at night, staring at opposite walls while Stone tried not to let Sully feel swelling tides of longing, guilt, and too many confusing, mixed up things for Sully’s mind to sort into neat categories.
Meanwhile Sully’s growing sense of abandonment confused him.
He was the one who told Stone to stay away.
He was the one who didn’t want his head messed with.
So why was he aching like he was losing something important?
Like someone died and left him to fend for himself all over again?
Each morning Sully found himself wrapped around Stone, unwilling to let go. He wasn’t sure which was worse, when the feelings intensified because of it or when Stone tried and failed to hold them back. Either way it hurt, and it shouldn’t. It shouldn’t.
Sully couldn’t stop revisiting how he’d exploded at Stone twice now.
He hated losing his temper. It made him feel immature and irrational.
Twenty-four was plenty old enough to know better than to yell and leap to the worst possible explanations, but he couldn’t contain the startling strength of emotion Stone brought out in him.
After a lifetime of practice separating his feelings from those around him, he was an expert at it.
So how come whenever he got too close to Stone, everything he knew how to do went to shite?
And now there was another layer confusing him further.
Because the harder he tried to remember the dreams Stone told him were real, the more they were drifting to the surface for him to examine in the painful bright light of day.
He could recall his own humiliating desperation and need.
Elliot holding him close and murmuring nonsense after he relived the Eastland disaster.
The clean, fresh scent of Elliot where Sully had tucked his face into Elliot’s neck, familiar and comforting. The same one he kept waking up far too close to in the mornings. Warm, sure hands moving over his back in soothing circles.
“Just catch your breath, it’s over.”
Every memory dredged up came with a throbbing pang in his chest, a lonesome craving, a wretched desire to throw himself in those sturdy arms again and let out all of the pent-up fear and horror of the last months.
To be weak in the worst way, and he couldn’t let himself.
Not if he was going to get through this without breaking apart.
His own feelings needed sorting out. If he let himself get sucked into the tempest of Elliot’s he might not find a way out again.
Wasn’t even sure he’d want to. The tantalizing prospect of all those good feelings lurking on the other side of the bad dangled like a carrot, drawing him closer to letting go of his resentment.
But stubborn pride kept him rooted firmly where he was.
“You’re a mess, Sullivan.”
His head was too heavy for his neck, so he dropped it back against the wall and stared out the tiny window at the expanse of snow dusting the trees and hills. Got lost in endless white, and it was almost like sleeping. Only it wasn’t. At all.
Fingers rapped against the closed door. Sully’s heart jumped into his throat. Try to be more pitiful, I dare you. “You can come in.”
The door creaked open, and Bell appeared. Sully’s shoulders sagged. Of course it wasn’t Stone wanting to speak with him in private. Why the hell would he hope it was?
“So,” she said, entering and shutting the door behind her. “Stone would have my head for this, but I thought you might need a friend.”
Sully’s mind instantly threw up an image of the last friend he’d had, blood seeping from his shoulder, lips flattened in a pained line.
His throat burned. He ought to write to Allison to check in on him.
“You wouldn’t say that if you knew what happened to the last person who called me their friend. ”
She shrugged and sat on the foot of the bed, dark blue eyes watching him intently. Sully raised his brows but didn’t comment. “Did you kill him?”
“What? No, of course not,” Sully protested, crossing his arms defensively.
“Hurt him?”
Might as well have. “No, but it was my fault.”
Her lips curved in a lopsided, sort of sad smile.
“Then I won’t waste my time worrying. I’m not sure if it’s escaped your notice, but I don’t frighten particularly easily.
” Sully didn’t know what to say. That hadn’t escaped his notice.
He’d never met another woman in the middle of a battlefield, and he remembered how calm she’d been.
You couldn’t get much braver. “Besides, the tension in this house is becoming absolutely unbearable. And we’ve all got a job to do around here.
So, cough it up. Tell me the issue, let’s have it. ”
Sully’s muscles tensed. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate what you’re trying to do—”
“If it helps I do know your history together, and I don’t care in the slightest about your preferences.” Bell emitted earnestness, it practically glowed off her.
A buzzing started in his ears, chest tightening. Stone told her?
“If you’re working yourself into an uproar, you should know he didn’t have to tell me.
I guessed as much. And for goodness sake, don’t be so shocked.
It’s not as though either of you are terribly subtle about the way you stare at one another.
All puppy eyes and sad faces when you think you’re unobserved. ”
“It’s—” God, were they that obvious? Stop fucking looking at Stone unless necessary.
“Complicated? Yes, agreed. And you’re attempting to find your footing here, so there’s added stress on top of the rest. That can’t possibly be pleasant.” Her brows pinched in perfect sympathy.
“Yeah, well.” Sully stared back out the window, clenching his jaw. He didn’t even want to have this conversation with Stone, let alone his apparent confidant. He might be stuck feeling everyone’s feelings, but he never liked to talk about his own. “I’ll be fine.”
There was a long pause, and then Bell asked, “Do you trust him?”
Of course he did. In a heartbeat. “What?”
“It’s a simple question, but terribly important.
If you can’t trust him, how will you respond to his orders in the field?
Your trust was breached, no matter the intent.
It’s no small thing to overcome. However, if we’re going to be an effective team, you’ve got to move beyond this.
I don’t suppose the two of you could simply… talk?”
Sully rolled his eyes, and she lifted the corner of her lips in a faint smile.
“I’ll manage. Trusting him as my commanding officer is different. It won’t be a problem. I can take orders fine. Took them from men I liked even less. Is that all you wanted?”
Bell released a resigned sigh and stood, tucking a wisp of black hair behind her ear. “It’s not, but I can tell when a man’s adamantly refusing to reflect on his emotions and no amount of insightful prodding will aid.”
Sully repressed a smile at that. Edie and Anne would love her.
* * *
LEANING AGAINST THE COLD exterior wall of the house, Elliot watched as Charbonneau and Warren sparred.
They were locked in an intense struggle.
Charbonneau’s skill gave him the advantage of speed and strength over Warren, but that only went so far against an opponent who could confuse you into thinking he was somewhere else.
Mail had been delivered that morning along with an urgent message from Général Courtemanche. They had two days before Warren would be tested by fire. It wasn’t enough. He hadn’t even gotten two weeks to train with them.
There was far more danger to him at the front. He’ll manage.
There’s no other option.
Elliot sealed his lips around a cigarette and dug through his pocket for the metal tin containing his matches.
He needed the boost; it felt like he hadn’t slept in months.
Striking the match, he held the flame to the end as he inhaled, drawing smoke smoothly into his lungs.
Dropping the match into the snow, he watched it rapidly extinguish with a sizzle before he lifted his gaze to the combatants once more.
Charbonneau lunged for Warren and rolled in the snow to recover when he didn’t meet the expected impact.
The crunch of boots in the snow alerted Elliot to Bellona’s approach. “He’s holding up against Charbonneau,” she said, stopping at his side and folding her arms as she watched them.
Elliot hummed his agreement and took in another lungful of smoke. He blew it out slowly.
“You both look like you haven’t slept a wink in ages,” she observed, concern under the light tone of her voice.
Flicking the ash from the glowing tip of his cigarette, Elliot sighed. “He sleeps. Eventually. He just—it’s not restful.”
“And what’s your excuse?” she asked, turning to face him.