Page 22 of Ghost on the Shore

“Now I’m thinking we definitely have to try this out.”

“You want me buck naked with you in the tent, huh? Wearesleeping in a tent, right?”

“Yes, we have a tent…But there’s no pressure, Gracie.”

I never should have mentioned Peter and the whole having sex at fifteen thing. I massage my forehead with my free hand, trying to erase the memory. Ugh, I told Damien that I liked it, too. That I wanted it when I was too young and too easily manipulated to make good decisions for myself.

“Right.” Desperate to change the subject, I ask, “How is Eli doing?”

Damien told me that part of the reason he got permission for this unconventional leave was because of Eli. He was vague on the details but shared that Eli was struggling towards the end of their last tour. He wanted to help him transition back into civilian life. I don’t really get it, he has his family and hometown friends here for support, but I’m grateful for whatever circumstances brought Damien into my life.

“He’s doing well. I think going back to school has been good for him. The classes keep his thoughts focused on something productive. He’s in a good place.”

“That’s good to hear.”

I decide not to press for more, to hold back from asking what it is that I really want to know.What happened during that last tour?I know that life isn’t easy. It’s dangerous, I know at least that much. It’s been less than three weeks but I already care about Damien. I want him to reassure me that he’ll be safe, to make promises that are impossible to keep.

I’m a realist. Like I said, I’m not that same overly trusting, naïve fifteen-year-old girl who used to believe in insta-love. But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t falling for Damien. I live for those hours after class when he takes me for rides on his bike, when we grab something to eat or just sit on the couch together watching television. I love it when he shows up to walk me home from class, love it when he pulls me onto his lap when we’re with Eli and his friends. And when I cooked dinner for him last weekend and he swore it was the best chicken marsala he’s ever had, it made me so ridiculously happy. I want to please him, want him to think I’m beautiful, special and too hard to resist.

Too difficult to leave.

But I know he’s leaving. That’s not up for debate. So I tell myself to live in the moment. To wring every bit of goodness and joy that I can out of these next three weeks.

“All right, I’m all yours this weekend, Sergeant Erikson.”

“All mine,” he says. “I like the sound of that.”

Chapter Seven

Damien

“You up for a run?”

Eli is still in bed and it’s after ten o’clock. I’ve already been for a five-mile run, showered and grabbed coffee with Grace before class. He doesn’t have class until noon today, but this laying around all day shit has to stop.

“Eli.” I give him a not so gentle nudge. “Get up.”

“My alarm is set for eleven. Leave me alone.”

“No can do. Get up. We’re taking a run.”

He murmurs something that sounds likefuck off, but then gets out of bed scowling on his way to the bathroom. He doesn’t look especially happy as he’s tying his running sneakers, and curses once we hit the street and he realizes he forgot his sunglasses. I’d say he’s acting like a child, but that’s an insult to children the world over.

I break the silence once we’re about a half-mile into it and have a rhythm going.

“I’m heading to Lejeune on Monday.”

“What for?”

Eli, who was in tip top shape just a month ago, is having trouble keeping up with me. He’s drinking too much, sleeping in, and generally adopting a piss poor attitude.

“Meeting with Staff Sergeant Barre.”

“Why? You still have three weeks left.”

It will only be two weeks and four days as of Monday, but I’m trying not to focus on that.

“I get the feeling that I won’t be stateside for too long once I’m back in.”

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