8. 1942

CHAPTER EIGHT

1942

CYRIL

I haven't spoken his name aloud in years.

I expect Teddy to pull his hand away, but he doesn't. He knows I won't sneer and punch him in the face for looking at me with unguarded lust. Somehow, he understood he was safe to rest his hand on my thigh and that he could coax my secrets out into the open. "There's no nurse, is there?"

That's an easy lie to tell other soldiers, the same way I tell them my wife is dead. No one pushes when they hear that.

"There is, and I can confirm that he isn't married because he told me." He gives my thigh a squeeze.

Me? I'm his nurse? How much vodka has he drunk?

I need another drink. I bring the bottle to my lips and take a long swallow. This cannot be real. "There are rumors that start if you're too friendly with another man."

"I have never been friendly with a man…or a woman," Teddy says.

"You should have dealt with that before you shipped out." There are places a man can go if he wants male company, but they are the places one hears about from other men with the same tastes.

"It didn't seem right to be that close to someone I didn't care about and who didn't care about me."

I nod, even though he can't see me.

"Is there a difference?" He asks.

I'm not sure what he's asking. "Between what?"

"Between being with someone you love and someone you don't?"

"I did love my wife in a fashion, and I hoped I'd grow to love her the way she loved me, but I loved James with everything in my being. He lit me up…" I smile at the memories, even though they only serve to remind me of what I pushed away. Walking away from him hurt so much. I drank and was terrible to everyone who cared. They all blamed the death of my wife, not the guilt consuming me for loving James. For still wanting him even though it was wrong and I don't deserve love. "It's like comparing a warm coal to a roaring fire. He was the first and last person I thought of every day."

I close my eyes, remembering his smile. He was there for me in those first few days afterward, but the guilt ate me from the inside, leaving only a rotten core. She haunted me through him.

"You speak as though it's over," Teddy says.

"It is." James won't be waiting for me to return, and I would never ask that of him. I killed any future we may have made. "And I vowed not to make the same mistake again."

"Marrying the wrong person?"

"Falling in love." It hurts too much, and my heart can't take the loss. I remove his hand from my leg. "I need a smoke. You?" He doesn't, but it's polite to ask, anyway .

"No."

I get up and trace my way back to the opening, one hand trailing over the wall. The wind slices through, stirring up the sand. I lean next to the opening and light the cigarette, breathing in deeply.

I shouldn't have told him.

There was no need to spill my guts.

But he fancies me.

Me.

I'm ten years older. I'm damaged, and I don't want to swoon in anyone else's arms. I don't want the high of their kisses and destruction of their loss. And I can't keep secrets the way I once could.

There's been no one since James.

But it's hard not to look sometimes. To listen to other guys as they talk about their sweethearts and feel so utterly alone. I draw in the last drag and drop the butt in the sand, grinding it beneath my boot. Teddy is sitting in the dark, wounded and seeking some kind of connection, and I'm too broken to even give him that.

I'm not what he wants or needs.

He's not thinking right.

He'll find a nice young lady…it's not a woman he wants. He already knows that while I was still lying to myself at his age.

"Fuck," I mutter under my breath. "This is a dog's breakfast."

I consider having another smoke to kill time, but leaving Teddy on his own isn't the right thing to do. I carefully pace around with one hand on the wall, able to make out the solid shade of his body in the gloom.

I sit next to him and lean back against the wall. "So what now? You uncovered my secret. "

"You don't like having friends with a shared interest?"

I lick my lower lip, not sure how to respond. We aren't friends. Or we weren't… Perhaps we are becoming friends. "The last one I had didn't stay a friend." We'd become lovers. "Nothing can happen, Teddy."

Not at HQ, anyway. Leave in Cairo is a different matter, but I don't want to encourage him.

He huffs. "I don't want to die not knowing what it's like to be kissed?—"

"You must have had girlfriends."

"By a man."

Oh. "You're not going to die."

That's a piss weak response. If the storm doesn't pass, we'll both die of dehydration. We might make it out only to find no one can pick us up because the Italians are too close, in which case we are dead again. I'm not walking back to HQ and leaving Teddy on his own.

The only way we survive is if the storm blows through, and when I radio for pick up, a patrol comes and gets us. Or, I suppose, if the Italians reach us first and we become prisoners of war.

"You were just contemplating all the ways we can die. You get a look on your face when you're running through options."

"You can't see my face," I grumble, annoyed that he knows me so well.

"I can hear you thinking. I've been riding next to you for nearly a year."

He's been watching me for that long, wanting to crawl beneath my blanket while I was busy convincing myself it was admiration and nothing more. Because it couldn't be more. I don't want the whispers…the distrust…the hate. "What gave me away? "

"The way you looked at me when you thought I wasn't paying attention." There's too much hope in his voice, and I can too easily imagine the heat in his eyes.

If he noticed, did others? Or did he notice because he was looking and hoping? I need to change the topic before it strays back into dangerous territory. "What are you going to do after the war?"

"Go back to helping Dad run the grocery store…and keeping my head down. What will you go home to?"

Pain.

Living in the same town as James will kill me. Seeing him but not touching him. Knowing that he has someone new.

"I'll probably return to the farm." I like animals. I understand them. And I enjoy being out in the open. Or I used to. Now, I'm always scanning for danger. I won't be able to relax by the stream the way I once did. I can't remember what it is like to be happy. I shake my head. "I don't want to go back, as there are too many memories, but I don't know what else to do." I haven't thought that far ahead.

"I can get you a job in the store. Want to deliver groceries?"

I laugh. What a rusty sound that is.

"That doesn't sound too bad." Instead of delivering soldiers, I'll drop off bags of potatoes and bread.

Teddy leans against me. "No one will think anything of two friends who survived the war living together."

His fingers lace with mine, and his palm is cool and clammy. My fingers curl around his hand.

"They wouldn't question it." I agree. There's no harm in giving him hope, even though it scares me, but I'm not sure I can love again. My heart is too damaged from the loss. My soul too wounded from the killing. I don't know how much longer I can survive the war.

I never thought I'd want to go home, but that's all I want. No more sand. No more guns. No more blood and death.

If I'd stayed home, perhaps I could've worked things out with James. Or perhaps I'd have drunk myself to death.

After what seems like minutes of silence, Teddy speaks. "Could you light that fire for a bit? It must be night because I'm getting cold."

"Of course." I flick on the torch and pull out my knife, cutting the netting into pieces. Before making a neat pile about a meter away. It takes a couple of goes to get it burning, but then we have a merry little fire.

Teddy is watching me. His gaze burns into me. He's not hiding the heat of his hunger, and my body wants to bask in it. It wants to give him everything he asks for because it's been so long since anyone has touched me.

"How's your side? Want me to check?"

"It's fine, painful, but I don't need a shot. I don't want to fall asleep and never wake up." He licks his lips. "I should write something for my mum. Just in case." His voice is low as if saying it too loud will give it power.

It's never a good sign when an injured soldier gets the urge to say goodbye to his loved ones. It means death is hovering nearby.

"We're getting out of here." I hope I sound convincing.

He looks up at me, lips curved and eyes dark. "I know…but I've got nothing else to do." He pulls the map out of his pocket along with a nub of pencil.

I hand him my fountain pen.

"Thank you. I'm going to tear up the map. Any objections? "

"Give me the section with our location."

He tears the map and marks our coordinates on my part.

I fold it up and put it in my pocket. "I'll take a walk, give you a little privacy."

"Thank you." He smiles, and I remember why I took a shine to him the moment he joined my team, even though I was determined to ignore every flutter of attraction.

It's much harder now. My heart wants something, someone, to hold on to.

"Right." I stand and grab the torch. The cavern isn't that big, but I don't want to stumble over a snake that is also taking shelter.

I'm in no rush as I trace the outside of the cavern. Every couple of steps, I glance back at Teddy, sitting in the firelight, writing his letter. A lump forms in my throat at the idea of him dying. He's always been so full of life…so dangerous to me.

Now the door has been opened. I cannot suppress the attraction. And if I give in? Why shouldn't I take a few moments of joy out of this whole shitty situation?

Because I will unravel.

I cannot be the man that he wants or deserves. My heart is too scarred. He should be with someone who adores him and who wants to take every adventure with him, not a shell of a man who fears his own reflection.

My boot connects with something hard, and I scan the light over the sand. There's metal in the sand. A weapon stash? Casings from a fight?

I kneel and brush the sand away. Not weapons, but gold.

An intricate gold and lapis armband lies in the sand. It's beautiful and worth a fortune. There are people in Cairo who buy artifacts, and I wonder what else is buried. I eagerly clear away more sand, glad to have something to do and something else to think about.

My fingers sweep over more metal, and I pull a little lioness out of the sand.

Bast, one of the Egyptian goddesses. Maybe she listens where the other gods don't. Not that I know what I'm praying for. An end to the bloody war would be a good start.

Peace.

Peace in my heart.

A heart capable of love.

A wave of vertigo has me reaching for the sand to stabilize myself. When I open my eyes, I'm not in the cave.

I don't know where I am or who I am.