Page 14 of Dravin

Do something other than stare.

She’s a job.

The sister of a slain brother.

I have more honor than that. I really can’t want her. I’ve never wanted anyone that way. If there’s one thing I’ve always been good at, it’s doing my duty. That was always easier than wanting things for myself.

Maybe it’s better to be devoid than brimming full of the wrong kinds of passion.

But right now, I want to lean into her and—

I try and get myself under control. I can’t do this. I mean, I can and I will, but I need a breath. Even in the worst of the BUD/S training, we still got to breathe. Eventually.

She asked me a question and I can’t give her an honest answer, though she’s waited half an eternity, so I won’t give her an answer at all.

I leave the door unguarded. It’s stupid, but I need a minute. I need water. Space. Just a second where Kael’s dark eyes aren’t probing straight to the depths of me, unlocking and uncovering shit I didn’t even know was there. I killed the need early on towant. The foreign emotions that have been building in me slowly over the past year are ready to explode, and if they do that, they’ll tear me in half. There will be no coming back from it.

I pour a glass of water and slam it down. I follow it up with another and another, until the liquid sloshes uncomfortably in my empty stomach.

“Are you losing it right now?”

Behind me, Kael can’t leave it alone. That’s fine. She has every right to want answers. This past year has been an agony of questions for her.

I’m at just the right angle that I can see into the tiny living room. The whole thing is filled with canvases. I don’t know when she went out and got them. She hasn’t made a single attempt to paint before now.

Each and every canvas, and there are at least twenty of all different sizes—some shoved onto the couch, standing in corners, covering the coffee table and braced in front of the TV, more scattered over the floor—is covered in red.

Just one shade.

Scarlet.

“I’ve tried. All I can paint is red. All I see is red.” Her hand flutters up to her mouth, shaking visibly. “At least it’s not black. You can paint over red.”

I slam the glass down so hard that a crack appears silently. I stare at it, throat thickening, heart swelling, chest ready to collapse, eyes burning. That crack is inside of me too. The fault line appeared the second I landed in Chicago, tore Kael away from completing her Masters, and saved her instead of getting myself killed trying to do that for the only brother I ever knew.

“You can paint over black too.” The words come out in a gasp, and I lurch after them, stumbling around the kitchen, charging blindly outside.

I have no idea what I’m doing out there, other than blinking up at the hot sun, the sky a wedge of endless blue. I’m half naked out here, but it’s summer.

But I’m entirely too naked.

Exposed.

Vulnerable.

I’ve done it all to myself. I’m the one losing that comfortable emptiness and I don’t know how to deal. I’m lost. I’m so fucking lost.

I take two steps into the long grass. The best way to get yourself under control, is to find just one thing to ground you and focus on it. Throw your whole self into it. Find one focal point and don’t let it go.

My focal point is the garden shed.

I cut a path to it and wrench open the door. It’s slightly warped from the humidity, but it’s no match for my strength. The lawnmower is a new one, purchased so recently that it still has all the store stickers on it, but someone’s filled it with gas and oil. There are a few tiny drips below the motor on the shiny red base.

I jerk it out of the near empty shed, knocking over a few garden tools in my haste.

I guess I must look like a man possessed because, as I wheel the thing around and start yanking on the pullcord, Kael charges out of the house.

She looks at me frantically, eyes huge and nearly popping out of her face, a red flush darkening her pale skin right over her sharp cheekbones, hands wringing madly.

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