As Gray sat watching television, he couldn't pull his hand away from the smooth skin on her leg. It had always intrigued him how Monty and Sofia touched in little, often nonsexual ways. Suddenly every inch of skin felt sexual. Maybe he was just lonely or horny or both.

If the unexpected kiss was any sign, Katherine was a sensual woman. Maybe they should enjoy each other while she was his guest. He still knew so little about her except she was close to her siblings and partook in recreational drugs. She should be off limits for the drugs alone, except she wasn't going through withdrawals. Gray knew first hand about withdrawals.

While he finished his tour, he buried his pain deep within. When it appeared, it was through anger. As soon as he was stateside, he discovered alcohol took the pain away. He drank to feel completely numb. It was impossible to hold a job. After three months at home, he couldn't stand the disappointed looks from his father. 'Grow up. Get a job.'

At twenty-four, he had seen more than his father had in his lifetime, but none of it prepared him to live life with the memories that haunted him. Afghanistan was a place of extremes: hot and cold temperatures, explosions and quiet, death and life, friendship and isolation, love and agony.

Katherine sat up. He looked at her and asked, "Are you okay?" She really looked a mess, and the anger rose in his throat. "Tell me the name of the bastard. I'll break his nose for you."

She reached out and put her hand on his cheek. It felt soft and warm. "Violence won't trump violence. Besides, he has too much clout and money, he'll ruin you."

Gray shook his head. "I have friends with clout including cops."

"Let's just leave it as I learned my lesson. I should have listened to my brother. He kept warning me I'd end up with the wrong crowd. I never want to acknowledge he was right."

As if controlled by a part of him he didn't know existed, he turned his head to brush his lips against her hand that had warmed his cheek.

She shut her eye, and a tear leaked out. "You are so gentle, but you want to fight. I'm a fighter too."

His eyes danced. "Not with that brute."

"Not physically, but I like to support the underdog. My family teases me because I fight against misogynistic men."

He laughed. "I appreciate women. I know some strong ones." She and Sofia together could be scary.

"I've given my brothers hell for using words like chick or boobs."

He winked. "The second one can be exciting in the bedroom." She frowned. "Do you prefer tits?"

"What do you prefer? Cock? Pecker?"

He leaned towards her. "Either, even dick, as long as my penis is happy."

She threw her head back and laughed. "The happy penis."

"Although it's his favorite thing, I would never say the word for CU next Tuesday."

"His favorite thing?" She laughed.

He smiled. "What can I say, he's friendly. Maybe if we had met another way, but you just ended a, um, situation."

"It was a situation, alright. It was like one big orgy, but I was stupid enough to think he and I were into each other. I should have read the sign when he got pissed off at his friend for talking to me."

"You seem smarter. I blame it on the drugs. I did stupid things when I was drinking."

"I don't have a problem. I'd hate it if I'm the last one to figure it out."

Gray shook his head and looked at her with his hazel eyes. "I thought maybe last night, but you would be sick coming off the shit. I didn't realize how bad I was until I went through my first withdrawal."

"What happened?"

He never talked about his past. He patted his shoulder and stretched out his arm. She shifted, so she leaned against him. His heart sped up, and he almost asked if she heard it, but felt like an idiot. He had no reason to trust her, except she trusted him by staying.

"The drinking started when I came home. War is ugly, and I experienced the ugliest."

"How old were you?"

"Just twenty-four but I felt like an old man."

She frowned. "How old are you now?"

"Thirty-four, but I feel younger than I did then. How old are you?"

"Almost twenty-seven."

He smiled. "Almost?"

She sighed. "Fine. Twenty-six and a half. I'm older than my brother, by a few minutes."

"You're a twin? Are you close? Won't he know something happened to you?"

"I doubt it, but he is my best friend. So you were home from hell."

"Ain't that the truth. My parents were proud I served. There's a flagpole in the front yard with the American and Marine flags on it. The problem is being proud and understanding are two different things. I didn't know how to live, so I sat around and drank." And mourned. "Then I left and traveled around to my buddies' for a while."

"I feel shallow. I had been willing to wander doing nothing, except be some guy's bitch. It's not like I was in war or anything else I can't imagine. The worst thing I did was almost let my sister marry a guy I knew was cheating. She didn't and is in love with one of the good guys now, so all's well that ends well."

"The good guys?"

She laughed. "Like you. Heart of gold although don't hurt his loved one, or he turns into a shark."

"Is that a warning?"

"Not for you. He would team up with you to seek revenge for me. So you left home."

"I was lost."

After he left his parent's house, he traveled around couch surfing with guys from his unit (the ones that made it home). He needed the camaraderie and often stayed up all night drinking. When the pain gripped his heart he drank. When he laughed and felt guilty to be alive he drank. He crashed in Texas with Dougie, one of his buddies. The small town, population next to nothing, had more heads of cattle than people, but there were two Baptist churches and Dougie went to his twice on Sundays and Wednesday nights. Unfortunately, Dougie didn't drink or allow it in his house, so Gray experienced his first withdrawal.

"I honestly didn't know I couldn't stop until I stayed with Dougie. I thought I might die, but as miserable as I was deep within I knew I didn't want to die."

He went to see Doug because he had helped him get through his tour after the vehicle Beth was riding in hit an IED. Gray had a future planned for when he got out of the desert hell. He thought he would have the life the other occupants of the brownstone were having with a helluva lot less money.

Dougie listened and cried and prayed over Gray. Then he put him in his truck and drove him to church on Monday night. In the hall with basketball hoops, they had folding chairs near a table with a coffee urn. Doug stayed with him for his first ever meeting. Half way through Gray stood up abruptly, knocking over his chair.

"Doug tried to help me. He took me to AA. I stormed out saying it was bullshit. I made a scene, but I was angry because I knew it wasn't. I just wasn't ready to face my pain like I heard the others in the folding chairs do."

"My brother is always threatening to send me to rehab. If I ever lost control enough to need it, I would be angry at myself. I guarantee my big brother would suffer the brunt of my anger."

"He loves you like Dougie loved me. Do you want to call him?"

She shook her head. "Do you ever call Dougie?"

"Yeah. He knows I'm sober. He knows enough not to convert my atheist Jewish ass."

She laughed. "Glad to know where you stand on religion. How did you get to Boston?"

"I came to stay on the couch of a couple guys who had a shitty apartment in Southie. They had joined the force. They drank and still do. I thought about joining too, but they told me I wasn't the right material. It hurt. One day, I was walking down the street and saw a bunch of people smoking outside a church. I felt like shit because I wasn't even good enough to write parking tickets. I knew it was a meeting, and I went in and sat down."

"And that was it?"

He laughed. "Not by a long shot. That was just the beginning. Maybe I'll tell you the rest another day."

It was hard to tell her about the cocky kid who strolled in late and sat next to him. He kept going back and the kid never spoke, but he seemed like he had it all figured out.

Gray finally worked up the courage to ask him to go for a cup of coffee. It was then he asked him to be his sponsor.

Monty looked at him long and hard. "Here's the thing. I'm not an alcoholic. I drink for all the wrong reasons, but physically I can stop. If you want me as your sponsor, I won't sit home to be at your beck and call."

"I want to get better. I want to get a job."

He stared at him a long time. "Maybe we can help each other. I'll even give you a job. How do you feel about traveling?"

"I've been traveling for six months."

"I could use a guy like you to come with me on my travels. I go to some rough places."

He didn't know what to think. "Is it legal?"

Monty laughed. "Absolutely."

Gray squeezed her soft tiny body. "How about I start dinner?"

She stood. "Sounds good. I'll be right back to help."

He watched her walk away and wondered if she had ever been a dancer.

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