Page 18 of Expiry Dating

They’d made an awful lot of progress on the main bathroom in a very short amount of time. After stripping it bare, it had only taken three days to get it close to functioning again. Thanks to Ace, who had carried on working on it without Brady when he had to go to work. He might have answered the phone sooner if he’d have known just how able and willing his friend was when it came to DIY.

As a thank you, Brady had left the safety of his home and taken Ace to Mickey’s for a well-earned drink. It wasn’t that Brady was no longer concerned about running into Alice, he was. But he had started to accept the inevitable, and talking to an outsider about it had made him realise a few things.

“It’s time. I leave tomorrow. And we need to talk about it.”

A full minute passed before any words left Brady’s mouth, but Ace’s gaze never wavered. His eyes were laser-focused on Brady. He knew it was time. They’d danced around the topic all week, even though he could tell his friend’s patience was waning.

After bracing himself for the worst, he met his brother’s eyes. “It was my fault,” he blurted.

“Come again?”

“It was my fault,” Brady repeated, swallowing down the newly formed lump in his throat. “I should’ve listened to my gut; I knew something was off when we arrived. And now a good man is dead. Because of me.”

“You cannot be fucking serious, man? That’s bullshit, and you know it. Ricky’s death has fuck-all to do with you, and there was no way in hell you coulda prevented what went down.”

Brady downed the rest of the whisky he’d been nursing since they’d arrived. “You know as well as I do that instinct is what has kept us all alive. That day ... I fucking knew something wasn’t right. It was too quiet. If I’d have just listened—”

“Enough,” Ace cut him off. “Don’t fucking do that. I think you’re forgetting something, brother. I’m the one who sent you on patrol. So, by your logic, it’s my fault. Is that what you think? Huh? I’m the one who gave the order, and now one teammate is dead and the other injured bad enough to get discharged?”

When Brady didn’t reply, Ace continued. “If you think I don’t feel responsible, then you’d be wrong. It happened on my watch, man. My fucking watch.”

It had never occurred to Brady that Ace might feel some of the same guilt he did.

“How do you deal with it? The guilt?”

“I knew what I was signing on for. It don’t make me sleep any easier, but I have to accept what happened, learn from it, and move on. Otherwise, it will eat me up. Neither of us can go back, Brady. It’s done, and no amount of time wishing we did something differently is going to change that.”

Move on. Sure. Easier said than done.

Brady didn’t want to tell his friend that he still saw Ricky in his dreams. Or that he still relived every minute of what happened over and over again every night. “I just need some time,” he muttered into his now-empty glass.

“I’m leaving you a number of someone you can talk to. I know you rejected it last time I offered, but I really think it will help.” Brady’s expression clearly spoke volumes. “Don’t look at me like that, Mitchell. It’s not weak to ask for help. Don’t be a fucking fool.”

Brady picked up the card his friend had tossed onto the scratched-up table. “Thanks, man, I’ll think on it.”

Ace sighed. “Okay. Look, if you don’t wanna talk to a professional, at least pick up the phone and call me. Can you do that?”

Despite knowing he was unlikely to do so, Brady nodded. Anything to get rid of the disappointment plastered all over his friend’s face.

It worked. Ace smiled. Even though it didn’t quite reach his eyes, Brady would take it. Although he wasn’t so keen on the subject change.

“Okay, enough of the depressing shit. So, when are you planning on making a move on the hot brunette?”

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