Page 49 of The Fire We Crave

“I guess lots of bruising is on my bingo card for this summer. The bigger question is, are you?”

“A piece of me caught fire and burned to ash on the mountain. Don’t think I’m ever gonna get it back, Quinn.”

She strokes my hair back from my face, and I close my eyes and lean into the touch. The hospital is such a shitty place. Every touch is a violation. Needles that poke, unidentified liquids you’re told are good for you are inserted into your veins, dressings being ripped off and replaced after a grueling cleaning of wounds.

But this, the whisper-light brush of her fingers over my skin?

It soothes the part of me that was close to losing its shit in the clubhouse yard. I’m not the man I was when I left. I can’t make decisions or finalize where I stand on things. I’m doubting my own judgment, my own decision making, questioning myself a thousand times a day and I’m exhausted from it.

“I understand that kind of loss, Smoke. It?—”

“Ronan. Call me Ronan again.”

She smiles sadly. “Fine. Ronan. I understand what it feels like to live your life with a piece of you missing. I wish I could tell you that it goes away, but it doesn’t. It eases, becomes less constant, but it’s never fully gone. Would it help to tell me what happened?”

God, I’m so fucking drunk. Beer sloshes in my gut, and so do the whiskey chasers. “I made the wrong call, Quinn. And now four good men are dead.”

I place my hand to my face as all the barriers I put in place to stay stoic fail at once.

“I tried…to resuscitate Tim. I couldn’t…get to Hassan. The wind changed so fucking fast.” My voice cracks as I sob. “Hassan knew. He warned me. I was sure he was wrong. And now they’re dead, and I’m here. And it’s not fucking fair.”

“Oh, Ronan,” Quinn says, putting her arms around me.

It’s messy.

I’m lying down, choking on my own tears and snot. She’s lying over me, avoiding my burns.

But I feel her.

I feel the weight of her. Not physically, but, fuck, maybe spiritually.

I wrap one arm over her, holding her to me.

“It’s going to be okay, Ronan. I promise. You just have to get through today. Then, sleep. Then, do your best again tomorrow. You’re a hero for even being on that mountain in the first place. To jump out of a plane into a fire…that’s real bravery. You’ve got this, I promise you.”

She keeps hold of me until my sobs subside, until my chest calms. I continue to soothe myself by running my fingers through her hair.

“Thought if I drowned myself in alcohol and some club girls, I’d stop drowning in you,” I say quietly.

She lifts and leans over me, resting a hand on the bed by my hip. “Did it work?”

I reach up and touch the bruise on the side of her cheek tenderly. “Nope. Seems like it just fucked everything up more. It’s killing me.”

“What is?”

“This. You and me. Shouldn’t even be saying you and me.”

Quinn smiles softly. It’s the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen, and I’ve seen a fair few sunrises in my time. “You’re right. You shouldn’t. Butin vino veritas.”

“What does that mean?”

“In wine, there is truth. But also, a lack of filter.”

I drop my hand to her chin and rub my thumb over her lower lip. “How old are you, Quinn?”

“Twenty-seven. Just turned. Why?”

“Did you have a party?”

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