Chapter 48
FORTY-EIGHT
Austin
DIRTY DISHES OVERCROWDED MY SINK on New Year’s Eve—a week and a half after attending Elle’s graduation ceremony.
The existing pile was so impressive that when I placed yet another on top, the stack tumbled.
Clink. A muddy substance splattered the faucet, along with my need to keep my kitchen neat and orderly.
“Damn it!” I growled, sucking a drop of blood from the fresh slice along my thumb. I allowed water from the faucet to rinse it, too annoyed to grab a Band-Aid.
It was time to get my shit together.
When I gave up on dishes and walked to the bathroom, the signs of depression I’d been trained to recognize in my recruits sprouted like weeds all around me.
The piles of laundry, my unmade bed, and the rage boiling over silently inside of me.
Hell, I practically lived in the woodshed now.
My emotional deprivation tank, of sorts.
But I needed a goddamn break.
A break from being alone with thoughts that continued to suffocate me. Earning Elle’s trust again in Pensacola had been my goal. I sighed shakily, recounting how I’d sorely missed my target.
What else could I have done?
I’d shown up for her, spilled my truth, given her time and space to process, and told her to come to me when she was ready.
Unfortunately, emptiness was the only thing that had followed me home.
She now had my phone number, which I’d specifically left in one of the dozens of new letters I’d written to her.
The phone never rang.
Will she ever come back to me? I thought five minutes later, gripping the back of my neck with one hand, adjusting the shower faucet with the other.
Trails of sweat streamed down my body as the tiles beneath me filled with leftover wood scraps and grime. For me, showers had a way of cleansing more than just the body after a long day.
They felt like the only warmth left in my life.
Chief Carterson would never let another human being take such a toll on him.
If Elle wanted me, she’d come. If not, I could let her memory haunt me forever, but I couldn’t become a miserable shell of the man I knew was still inside.
That wasn’t me. That wouldn’t be who she needed if she ever came back either.
Should I hold on to something that never truly belonged to me? The depressing thought drained me faster than the metal grate chugging water under my feet.
When the water temperature cooled to an uncomfortable level, I turned it off and stepped out onto the rug, ignoring the stale towel hanging lifelessly nearby. Its musty scent disgusted me without even having to touch it. I cursed the material, reminding myself to wash it later.
Laters were becoming increasingly common in my life.
How many more laters could I possibly withstand?
Still naked and drenched, I attempted to dry my hair with a washcloth, leaving spots behind on the mirror with every pass around my head.
The wet bullets joined the crew of white stains that already covered half of my reflection.
I swatted them away through the foggy haze, blurring the view of myself I wasn’t sure I could stomach looking back at.
While I brushed my teeth, the hair that was far outside Navy regulations, which I had sported for a decade, bullied me. My fade had grown messy. Frantic and unkempt.
“Add it to the list, asshole,” I mumbled.
Laundry, haircut, dishes. My annoyance grew as I considered the time it would take to accomplish each task.
Time I only wanted to spend with one person.
A single clean pair of boxers remained in my dresser drawer. They clung to my damp thighs as I rolled them on.
Unmade in the middle of my bedroom, the bed invited me in. I yawned on cue, revealing a man in desperate need of rest.
Rest that my new life screamed at me to find.
The rest I’d avoided so that Elle couldn’t find me in my dreams.
Rest that never came.