Read Online Dreaming of the Billionaire 2 by Alice Bright - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Alice Bright
Ads: Link
he has, but could he have been?
"Sean?" I ask. "Are you okay?"
"Let's sit down." He walks to the couch and slumps down, downing the rest of his whiskey. He slams the glass onto the table and leans his head back. I don't say anything as he closes his eyes, obviously struggling. What is it that's so horrible? What is it that he has to say?
"Baby?" I put my hand on his knee, but he jerks away. What the fuck is going on? This isn't the Sean I know. This isn't the Sean I've fallen for.
"You can't touch me, okay?" He says it slowly and deliberately, as though it's painful to say, as though he can't quite express what he wants to. It's almost like touching him is a distraction and he needs all of his energy just to get the words out.
"I'm right here," I tell him. "I'm not going anywhere. Take your time."
"I was in the military," he says, but I already know. I saw the pictures in the guest room. I know that he served. With what branch or for how long, I don' t know. He's never talked about it and that information wasn't exactly in his Wikipedia article.
"And I was overseas," he tells me. "I was happy to serve. I even volunteered to go. My dad tried to talk me out of it, said it was no place for me, but I wanted to do something. I wanted to give back." He pauses and I resist the urge to place my hand back on his knee. I want to touch him, to reach out, to have some sort of connection, but it's not what he needs right now.
He needs me to just be.
So I'll be.
"Everything was fine for the first few months," Sean continues. "We got into a routine, sort of. Things were normal. Things were fine. But one day, everything changed. One day, we got shot at."
I try not to gasp, but I can't help it. Shot at? Seriously? How terrifying is that? I've never even held a gun, much less heard one go off. The pain in Sean's eyes is evident, though. The horror he's feeling is real. He survived combat. He was in war and he walked away, unscathed.
Sort of.
"We didn't know what was happening at first. When it happens, you've been trained for it, you know what's going on. You get it, logically, but you don't really get it. There's a disconnect. It seems like it's happening to someone else."
Sean sniffs, and I look back into his eyes. Tears are running down his cheeks.
"Baby, we don't have to do this," I say calmly. "We can do this another time. It's okay. We don't have to talk about it."
"No," he says. "I've waited long enough. It's not fair to you to not know this. I should have told you a long time ago."
He takes a deep breath and continues.
"Mark was my best friend. We were inseparable. When the first shots happened, we all responded the best we could, but I didn't know he'd been hit until it was too late, until I saw the blood."
Sean starts sobbing now, crying louder, and I forget his no touching rule. Instead, I wrap him in my arms. What the fuck is going on? His best friend? Aside from my dad, I've never seen a grown man cry. The way his entire body shakes is unbelievable. The way he's breaking is unbearable. How am I supposed to be the strong one here? How am I supposed to support him through this?
"He died. He died in my arms. He died and I didn't save him. Couldn't. Didn't. He died. And I...I should have saved him."
"Sean," I hold him tighter. "Sean, it's okay. You did everything you could." I struggle to find the right words to offer comfort, knowing the entire time that nothing I say will be enough. He lost his best friend, his brother, his companion, during a time when there was nothing he could have done. He did everything he could have, but it wasn't enough.
How do you comfort someone when they're dealing with that?
Sean stops crying and pulls away, wiping his eyes.
"I'm sorry," he says. "I'm not trying to freak you out. You just...you need to know this about me, Violet. If we're going to make this work, you need to know what you're getting into." I know that he's right, but it doesn't make this any easier. It's not easy to
"Sean?" I ask. "Are you okay?"
"Let's sit down." He walks to the couch and slumps down, downing the rest of his whiskey. He slams the glass onto the table and leans his head back. I don't say anything as he closes his eyes, obviously struggling. What is it that's so horrible? What is it that he has to say?
"Baby?" I put my hand on his knee, but he jerks away. What the fuck is going on? This isn't the Sean I know. This isn't the Sean I've fallen for.
"You can't touch me, okay?" He says it slowly and deliberately, as though it's painful to say, as though he can't quite express what he wants to. It's almost like touching him is a distraction and he needs all of his energy just to get the words out.
"I'm right here," I tell him. "I'm not going anywhere. Take your time."
"I was in the military," he says, but I already know. I saw the pictures in the guest room. I know that he served. With what branch or for how long, I don' t know. He's never talked about it and that information wasn't exactly in his Wikipedia article.
"And I was overseas," he tells me. "I was happy to serve. I even volunteered to go. My dad tried to talk me out of it, said it was no place for me, but I wanted to do something. I wanted to give back." He pauses and I resist the urge to place my hand back on his knee. I want to touch him, to reach out, to have some sort of connection, but it's not what he needs right now.
He needs me to just be.
So I'll be.
"Everything was fine for the first few months," Sean continues. "We got into a routine, sort of. Things were normal. Things were fine. But one day, everything changed. One day, we got shot at."
I try not to gasp, but I can't help it. Shot at? Seriously? How terrifying is that? I've never even held a gun, much less heard one go off. The pain in Sean's eyes is evident, though. The horror he's feeling is real. He survived combat. He was in war and he walked away, unscathed.
Sort of.
"We didn't know what was happening at first. When it happens, you've been trained for it, you know what's going on. You get it, logically, but you don't really get it. There's a disconnect. It seems like it's happening to someone else."
Sean sniffs, and I look back into his eyes. Tears are running down his cheeks.
"Baby, we don't have to do this," I say calmly. "We can do this another time. It's okay. We don't have to talk about it."
"No," he says. "I've waited long enough. It's not fair to you to not know this. I should have told you a long time ago."
He takes a deep breath and continues.
"Mark was my best friend. We were inseparable. When the first shots happened, we all responded the best we could, but I didn't know he'd been hit until it was too late, until I saw the blood."
Sean starts sobbing now, crying louder, and I forget his no touching rule. Instead, I wrap him in my arms. What the fuck is going on? His best friend? Aside from my dad, I've never seen a grown man cry. The way his entire body shakes is unbelievable. The way he's breaking is unbearable. How am I supposed to be the strong one here? How am I supposed to support him through this?
"He died. He died in my arms. He died and I didn't save him. Couldn't. Didn't. He died. And I...I should have saved him."
"Sean," I hold him tighter. "Sean, it's okay. You did everything you could." I struggle to find the right words to offer comfort, knowing the entire time that nothing I say will be enough. He lost his best friend, his brother, his companion, during a time when there was nothing he could have done. He did everything he could have, but it wasn't enough.
How do you comfort someone when they're dealing with that?
Sean stops crying and pulls away, wiping his eyes.
"I'm sorry," he says. "I'm not trying to freak you out. You just...you need to know this about me, Violet. If we're going to make this work, you need to know what you're getting into." I know that he's right, but it doesn't make this any easier. It's not easy to
Similar Books
