Page 1 of The Way We Fell

Chapter one

Jay

30thJULY,2026

“Welcome back, Sergeant Bevan.” The bright white haze clears slowly, and I find myself looking up into the pink face of a round man in turquoise scrubs. He’s the kind of riot of mismatched colour that belongs in a pre-school toy box, not this—wherever I am. A hospital, I guess, judging from the scrubs and the rhythmic machine bleeping that slowly cuts through the ringing in my ears.

And that’s when I remember it. Flashes of someday past—flickers of images play in my mind. My throat closes around the stale air in the room, dry tissue sticking together like glue. I couldn’t say a word if I wanted to.

But I want to.

I want to scream.

The images I see—the world burning, upside down. The smell. Caleb.

I open my mouth, or at least, I think I do.

“Don’t try to speak,” the pink man says. “You’ve been through a lot. Rest now. I’ll come back later.”

2ND JANUARY, 2027—PRESENT DAY

“Get a fucking grip.”

My little sister has convinced me to go out tonight. I’m not quite sure what came over me when I agreed to it, other than it being her birthday, or why I’m so anxious about it, but I find myself shifting nervously from foot to foot, towel wrapped around my waist as I survey the contents of my wardrobe, and sigh.

I grab a pair of jeans—plain black—and a grey button-down shirt. Why do I even care what I wear? It’s just a night out… with my little sister. And her friends. Her pretty, female friends. Who are all much younger, and much more outgoing than I am. I sigh again.

It’s not that I’m worried that I’m boring. I mean—Iamboring. I’m pushing forty, and for the most part, all I do these days isexist. I have a new job. I go to work. I come home. And Ruth’s friends… they’re young, they’re vibrant, and they have nothing in common with a thirty-nine-year-old war veteran with a metal rod in his leg and an unhealthy avoidance habit.

Nevertheless, I wrap my watch and a handful of leather bands around my wrist, stuff my feet into unlaced army-style boots—because once an army boy, always an army boy—and snatch my keys from the hook, slamming the door behind me. If Ruth wants me to get out and meet people, then I guess I’m getting out and meeting people. I’ve never been able to say no to my baby sister.

It’s an interesting club. It’s all straight lines and shiny surfaces, very slick and modern. Not a patch on the clubs I remember from my younger days. My feet aren’t even sticking to the floor. It’s far too loud, and for some reason, everything is purple—everything, that is, except for the flaming hair of one of my sister’s best friends. Even in the violet downlights, it glows orange.

“Jay!” Ruth waves me over to a table where she sits with three other women. The orange-haired friend jumps up when I reach their table, wrapping her heavily tattooed arms around my neck and enveloping me in some sweet, berry-and-musk kind of scent. It’s not unpleasant, but I’m betting her shrill shouts in my ear will be soon enough.

“Happy birthday, Rooey.” I escape the hug and lean in to kiss my sister on the cheek. She raises her drink towards me with a wide grin.

“Thanks, bro! Glad you made it.” Ruth pats the couch beside her and I sit. She introduces me to the group: the tall, willowy redhead with a drink in each hand—the one who hugged me—is Paloma. Amie is the pretty one in the emerald green dress, and to my left, with dark coffee-coloured eyes burning into my chest is Katy. I offer a tight smile and try to control my breathing. Loud spaces are not my favourite thing. Ruth’s hand touches mine and I turn to face her. I see my own eyes staring back at me—our mum’s eyes—brown, with hints of moss green around the inner edge of the iris. Hers are questioning.

“I’m fine, Roo,” I tell her. It’s not a complete lie. I pat her arm and stand. “I’m gonna get a drink. Anyone want anything? Rooey? Birthday drink?”

Amie raises a still-full glass towards me, but Ruth nods happily. After a moment of hesitation, Katy pushes up from the table.

“I could go for another,” she says over the music. She loops her arm through mine like physical touch is the easiest thing in the world for her, and she steers me around the edge of the room towards the bar. She smells like oranges, bright and summery, completely at odds with the light grey cable-knit dress skimming her thighs and the frosty night outside. The scent reminds me of days spent at the beach, teaching my sister to jump waves. Before the nightmares. Before the horror and loss. Before everything.

It’s comforting.

I slide my credit card from my pocket and tap it against the contactless reader on the bar to pay for both of our drinks, and Ruth’s margarita. Katy smiles shyly, offering a quietthank youI only hear over the noise because she’s pushed up onto her tiptoes, despite wearing heels, and her mouth is inches from my ear. Her breath is warm and I suppress a shudder. Her small hand touches my arm again and I try not to flinch. My skin burns at the contact. It’s been so long since I’ve been touched—at least, by anyone without a medical degree and a vested interest in repairing my battered body. It feels foreign in a way, but at the same time, a burn has never felt so good.

By the time we return to the table with full pint glasses, Amie and Paloma are lost to the crowd on the dance floor. Between Paloma’s height and mine, and her vibrant hair, I can just spot the top of her head somewhere in the centre of the shuffle, bobbing up and down as her inked arms raise. She’s pretty, and I take a long mouthful of my beer as I imagine what it might be like to be with someone so uninhibited.

Ruth breaks me from my haze.

“Penny for ‘em.” She leans in, tequila breath tickling my nose. “I invited you out to have fun tonight, not to sit and mope.”

“I’m not moping,” I say carefully, and my expression turns indignant as my sister raises a manicured brow. It’s petty, but I can’t help but stick out my tongue in response. Ruth is my best friend and I’d never,everwant to live in a world without her—but we’ve always bickered like children. And we’ve always enjoyed it.

“I’mnot,” I continue hotly. “I just don’tknowanyone here. Not anymore. I’ve been gone nearly ten years, Roo.” I slide down on the sofa so my face is level with the side of her head, speaking over the music directly into her ear. “It’s been a long time.”

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