Page 10 of Unholy Union
We clinked our beers together in the back of the restaurant. Benjo took a good, long chug. “Man, I’ve missed this. I’ve missed not being in uniform all the time. I’ve missed just hanging out with my friends and enjoying a cold beer.”
“I agree.”
Benji waggled his busy eyebrows. “I also miss sex. Have anyone back home you miss?”
“Nope. I was single when I joined the Army and still am. Usually when I return home, I have a few one-night stands, but nothing more.”
“So, no woman you’ve been desperately missing to fuck?”
I chuckled as I took another sip of my beer. “Nope.”
“Man, you’re missing out. My girl back home … whew. She’s a wild card. Great in the sack.”
“I hope you get to go home to her soon. When do you have leave?”
“In just a few months. I can’t wait.”
“Then, cheers.” I clinked my bottle to his again.
The explosion happened before any of us could even process it.
A huge fireball went through the restaurant. I’m not sure what caused it. A bomb. A gas leak. I was never able to find out, not even years later.
All I knew was I was blown off my chair, and I landed hard on my back. The table in front of me protected me from the worst of the explosion.
But when I looked over and saw Benji lying beside me, my eyes immediately locked on a piece of glass sticking out of his neck. Blood was gushing down his throat. His eyes were wide open.
I crawled over to him and shook him, but his head just flopped to the side. He was dead. And all I had to show for it was the blood covering my hands.
“Theo?”
I gasp again, my vision clearing.
“Theo?” It takes a moment to recognize the voice.
Cecilia.
She’s standing right before me, looking at me with concern. When my eyes finally focus, I realize everyone else is giving me the same look.
“Are you all right?” she asks, reaching her hand out to me.
I wrench away from her, and she drops her hand, hurt written on her face. I don’t have time to feel bad for her. She shouldn’t be asking me if I’m all right. She shouldn’t be so close to me at all.
It’s a recipe for danger.
“I’m fine,” I say, hoping everyone will stop looking at me like that. “I’m fine.”
Cecilia hurries back to her seat, her eyes downcast. I straighten, brushing a hand down my shirt.
“I apologize,” I say. “That was unprofessional.”
“What was that?” Giulia asks.
I clear my throat. “Just bad memories is all. I’m fine. Please. Go back to enjoying your dinner.”
After a few more looks of concern thrown my way, the family resumes their dinner.
Antonio clears his throat. “Actually, there’s something I want to discuss tonight. Something important.”
