Page 31 of Without Judgment

CHAPTER TWELVE

Mason

I’d wanted to get started on running Edward and his friends right away to see if a background check kicked up anything, but I stopped myself. It was more important to sit on the couch with Avery near midnight, watching Deadpool and laughing with her. She’d needed a friend. I’d found myself filling the role despite the fact I’d never had a female friend. Hell, I hardly had any friends at all. Apparently, there was a first occasion for everything.

And now that I lay in my bed with my laptop, I had an excuse to put off sleeping. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had a full night’s sleep without nightmares. Often, I’d simply jolt awake. Other times, I’d wake up violently in a cold sweat, my heart beating a million beats a minute and adrenaline fooling my body into believing I was back on that dreadful Iraqi road.

Instead, I ran the names she’d given me into a crime database that a private investigator I knew had let me use. Then I sent an email to a colleague who was with the FBI, asking if he could run the names as a favor. Considering the Bureau had a watch list of individuals without a criminal record, it was worth a shot.

I was convinced more than ever that Edward was hiding something. He’d alluded to being caught up in something—but what? My first guess was he wanted to sabotage Mr. Newhall’s mayoral campaign, but Edward didn’t seem politically motivated. However, I couldn’t let go of the nagging sensation that perhaps Avery was being used as a pawn in such a game. But how? And why?

After the database yielded nothing, I went to social media. First, I brought up Avery’s Facebook profile, only to see everything was locked down. All one could see was her profile picture, which was simply a photo of flowers. Instagram yielded nothing. Good girl. It was amazing to me how many people put stuff out there publicly. Next, I searched for Edward on Facebook. Finding a photo of his pretty-boy face, I frowned.

When I’d asked Avery if she still loved him, I’d been relieved to hear her say no. I could argue my relief came from knowing her indifference to Edward would make it easier for her to recover from this scandal, but it had gone beyond that. It would have been concerning if I’d taken the time to analyze it. But I wouldn’t. I was a master at shoving feelings to the side and refusing to acknowledge them. Probably why they often manifested at night.

Clicking into Edward’s Instagram account, I noticed all of his pictures were public. The first set was full of Avery. Of them together as a couple. As if they’d never broken up. Or more like a man who was still holding out hope they’d get back together. I felt no sympathy for him.

But I was becoming a stalker of her. I clicked on picture after picture of her in his albums. Laughing with friends. Dressed up. The two of them together. They’d made a striking couple. I went down memory lane through years’ worth of photos. Jesus, there was one of her in a hot pink bikini looking sexy as hell. I found myself grinning at the teenage pics of her. She’d always been beautiful, but I wondered if she realized how much more stunning she was when she went without makeup or a fancy hairdo. Just pure, natural beauty.

Finally, in the wee hours of the morning, I clicked on my last picture of her. I don’t know what I’d been hoping to find, but I couldn’t seem to help myself. Once that was done, I set the laptop aside and hoped exhaustion would help me into a dreamless sleep.

I wasn’t so lucky.

The Iraqi road stretched ahead of me. I could almost feel the heat on my face. The sweat forming in places you could never imagine until you were wearing fifty pounds of gear in the desert. We’d completed a patrol, which was always stressful. From stray dogs to kids without shoes running into the street, you never knew where the danger could come from. Mick was in the vehicle ahead of me. I’d met him in officer training, and we’d become friends. That day, he’d been in a great mood, counting the days until we went home. Seventeen and a wakeup call. I didn’t have anyone back home to whom I couldn’t wait to return. But Mick talked about his family constantly. The meals his mom cooked, his horse, his dog, his bed. The guy had been so homesick—and why not? He obviously had a lot to miss.

The Humvees were in motion a couple miles out of the city when boom, the one he’d been riding in exploded. Our driver saved us with his quick reflex in slamming on the brakes. Of course, he’d also kept a healthy distance, having learned over time about scenarios such as roadside bombings. I don’t remember getting out of the vehicle. But the sound of dirt crunching under my boots indicated I was on foot, running towards the smoke. Yelling his name. When I reached for the door handle, I could feel the burn of my skin against the hot metal. I didn’t care. I was fueled by adrenaline. Driven by the need to save my friend and fellow Marine. But I couldn’t. Not even in a dream where one would think I could affect the outcome.

I came awake to the soft sound of my name and a hand rubbing my back. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d welcomed the comfort of a touch. My eyes finally opened, and I remembered where I was. I turned to see Avery kneeling beside the bed in the moonlight. It had been her hand on my back, rubbing circles. At least I’d worn a T-shirt to bed tonight. Although having her hand on my bare skin would’ve felt better.

“You okay?”

Fuck. I couldn’t keep doing this. Waking her up with my nightmares. Maybe I’d need to sleep downstairs from now on. Once again, I was ashamed she had witnessed what I couldn’t control. “Yeah.” My throat was sore as though I’d been screaming. It was a distinct possibility.

“That was a bad one.” She murmured the words quietly. Simply. Without any judgment.

“I’m sorry I woke you.” I turned to face away from her again, trying to distance myself, but her hand now rubbed my shoulders.

“It’s okay. Do you want me to go?”

I should have said yes. I should have asked her to leave. But the sensation of her touch evoked such strong emotions in me that I couldn’t. It wasn’t sexual. It was comforting and friendshippy. Jesus, was that even a word?

I was already falling back to sleep, which wasn’t typical for me after a nightmare. Perhaps her touch was doing the trick.

“I don’t like you seeing me this way,” I murmured, too groggy to feel properly embarrassed. By morning, I knew I would be, however.

“I can go.” Her hand stopped, and she stood up.

“Stay,” I whispered. I wasn’t certain she’d heard me until the weight of her settled behind me in the bed. Since the death of my mother, I hadn’t let myself need anyone, yet in this moment I selfishly hoped Avery could somehow ward off the bad dreams. And when her hand came back to my shoulders, rubbing gently, I could feel no return of the nightmare. Instead, sleep began to overtake me.

I reasoned it was fine so long as I was faced away from her. So long as I didn’t touch her. So long as we didn’t talk about it in the morning.

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