“What do you mean?” Harley tilted his head.
“I was a sniper, Harley. I had to take lives to protect the innocent. A part of me, that dark, ugly part, was equipped to deal with that. I needed a reminder that there is a light inside of me as well, a light that reminds me that I have a soul.”
“I’ve seen you, you know. I would never think you were a monster. You take care of people, Achilles. Why would you ever think you’re a monster?”
“Because I have it in me, Harley. I wouldn’t have been able to do my job if I didn’t. The day we were ambushed, I killed so many people, Harley. My guys were dying all around me and I was…” I turned away from him. “I didn’t care, do you understand? I took those lives and I didn’t fucking care. I wanted them to pay, to suffer horrendously for what they’d done.”
Harley’s hand crept into mine and he turned me back to face him. I was expecting disgust or pity, what I saw was anger.
“Don’t you ever apologize for what you did, do you understand? My brother,” Harley stopped, took a deep breath, and continued. “He didn’t die right away. They tortured him first.” Harley wiped at his eyes. “So don’t ever apologize for what you did.”
“I’m so sorry,” I whispered.
“Holden knew going in that it could happen one day. I got to talk to him a week before he died. We were online, laughing and talking about how we were going to take the bike out on the highway. I needed it, ya know? My parents were the same as they’d always been, but it was really starting to bother me. Then he died, and it was like, I don’t know, like somehow I didn’t exist anymore. At least before, they kinda talked to me. They’d ask me to take out the trash or pick up the mail, go grocery shopping. When Holden died, the silence was so loud.”
I wiped the tear that cascaded down his cheek with my thumb.
“I don’t know why I’m telling you all of this,” Harley snuffled.
“Because you’ve had enough, I think. Or at least, I hope you have. Did you get Holden’s letter?”
“What letter?” Harley asked, confused.
“When we deployed, we all wrote letters to loved ones, in case we didn’t come back. Every soldier does it; well, almost every soldier.”
“Did you?”
“Yes, I did, but my parents never got it because I was in Germany in the hospital. Somehow, I lived.”
“I’m glad, Achilles. I know I bitch, whine and moan, but I’m glad you’re here.”
“How ʼbout we swim?” I motioned to the pool. “I think my sweat is freezing to my back.”
“It’s not that cold,” Harley laughed.
“To you,” I pointed out.
“Come on.”
We spent the next hour in the pool. Harley was laughing, and the sound of it bounced off the walls. It was good to hear him laugh. I wanted to smack myself for having let my guard down. There was a reason I’d kept my distance from Harley. I knew about his tattoo, I’d seen it in California when the guys were there for Singers. I didn’t want to have to explain it, to see the look on his face when he found out exactly what kind of person I was.
We dried off and stepped back into the heated house. Harley went to take a shower as I checked my emails and messages. Harley came out of his room dressed, still drying his hair. I grabbed my rucksack and flung it over my shoulder.
“Okay, I’ll take you to the studio, then I’m going to head home and clean up. I’ll come back with the Tomahawk and meet you there.”
“You have a home?” Harley snickered.
“Yes, I do. I live with Buster and Hammer. Stan set us up in a house among all of you.”
“You don’t have to take me, you know. I can drive.”
“I figured you’d want to drive the bike back home.” I cocked a brow.
“You’d let me…drive it?” Harley gaped at me.
“Of course. Just don’t wreck it with me on the back.”
Harley grinned and ducked his head, and I swore my heart fluttered in my chest. What the fuck? I needed to man up, dammit.
I dropped Harley off and continued on to the house Stan had rented for me, Buster and Hammer. Both of their vehicles were in the driveway as I pulled in. Unlike me, they didn’t have one guy specifically assigned to them. I jumped out of my truck and strode up the walk, unlocking the door. Hammer was in the kitchen making something and Buster sat at the table reading the paper.
“Marc, Kirk.” I nodded as I walked in.
“How’s Harley?” Hammer asked.
I sat down at the kitchen table and Marc, otherwise known as Hammer, brought me coffee. I’d sparred with him. ‘Hammer’ fits him nicely.