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  Sitting on the deck, overlooking the ocean whilst enjoying a cold beer, I’d felt at peace for the first time since I returned from that hellish desert. Cam had buggered off with some young student who’d been eyeing him up since we arrived. I was left with her friend, who looked willing, but I wasn’t. Part of me was scared of what happened with Georgia, whilst the other part of me just wasn’t interested. I’d rather enjoy the tranquillity of the view and my surroundings.

  Day two of our journey found me waking from the best night’s sleep I’d had in as long as I could remember. I felt rested for the first time in ages. There was no hangover from a nightmare I could barely remember, but knew had terrified me. It was a refreshing change. We’d another five hours on the bikes that day, but were moving away from the coast. I persuaded Cam to stop off at Observatory Point where I sketched the bay and rocks before we headed inland. It’s these moments that calmed me. The night was spent at an old country pub and was nightmare free again.

  Caiguna was our stopping point for the next day. It’s unlicensed and Cam was not impressed. It wasn’t as peaceful as the previous two locations as it was a 24-hour food and fuel stop. I barely slept. I had to ask myself if I'd become reliant on alcohol to ease me into sleeping, or if it was just the noise and hustle and bustle of the location. I really hoped it was the latter. I’d woken shaking with terror, images of the vehicle burning at my back and the child standing innocently in the road ahead of me. There was an echo of Max’s screams from where he was trapped in the transport. I could almost feel the heat from the flames and the smell of burned flesh tortured my senses. It had taken a cold shower and a good few hours on the bike for the flashbacks to dissipate fully.

  An eight-hour slog finally saw us cross into Southern Australia, and whilst we had enjoyed the beauty of the coastal road, I was more than grateful that the hotel we'd booked into for the night had a swimming pool. Yet again Cam picked up one of the tourists and went back to her hotel leaving me to entertain her friend. Despite half a bottle of Jack Daniels earlier in the evening, I was surprised to find myself hard enough for her to start giving me a blowjob. She was pretty good at it, but my attention strayed. The sight of her on her knees and the cheapness of the motel room made the moment feel cheap and tacky. I pulled out of her mouth, and instead of feeling disappointment when she cursed at me and left, I just felt relief.

  I opened the journal, hoping I could put what had just happened into words. Nothing came. I couldn’t even think of anything I wanted to sketch. Looking back over the pages I’d already filled I could see that each sketch represented a moment or a scene that had inspired me. Nothing about that evening had been inspiring. Time was, and not too long ago, that I’d have been delighted to find myself in that position. What was wrong with me that I turned down a blowjob? That night my nightmares were of Georgia. Her naked skin felt real and soft under my fingers, right to the point where my hands closed around her throat, almost choking the life from her. There was no soundtrack to this nightmare; just the haunting look of absolute terror on her face when she looked at me after I finally released her. Sleep proved elusive for the remainder of that night.

  We were close enough to Severed that we could have reached it by the end of the next day, but the prospect of a long drive didn’t appeal to either of us. As enjoyable as the route had been it had started to wear us out. We stopped off in Port Pirie for the night. Having fallen asleep easily I was soon woken by yet another nightmare. They were still a frequent part of my nights. My journal showed a collection of scribbled dark clouds and unclear images to represent my nightmares. I couldn’t write the content of them down, as I could only remember traces of them. A look, a touch, the only sounds were when I dreamed of Afghanistan and then it was the sound of Max’s tortured screams. The fear of almost ending Georgia’s life haunted me for the rest of the night every time, and when I dreamed of Afghanistan it was the knowledge that I’d ended a child’s life that tormented me.

  When we pulled into Severed the following day I was delighted to find it soothing, despite being so far from the coastal roads that I had craved. It had wide streets and old buildings that were kept cool by the shade of the trees. It was probably that there was nothing about the place that reminded me of Afghanistan. I think it was smaller than Harvey, perhaps that’s another reason I felt safe there.

  The first night sleeping in the old pub was dreamless, a bonus that my shattered body and soul desperately needed. I almost felt rested. It turned out that Severed wasn’t as peaceful as it appeared. The local MC had lost a few members recently, and there were rumors of a drug gang trying to move into the area. The thought of drugs in this peaceful place raised my hackles. It was also a stark reminder of how we’d lost Max. I couldn’t stand the thought of anyone else being lost to them.

  We’d been in Severed for a few days before I came up with a brilliant plan that I may well live to regret. The landlord of the pub we were staying in was an old friend of Cam’s family and had been trying to sell the pub so he could go stay with his sister on the other side of the country. She had cancer and he felt he needed to be nearer to her. There was something about this town that made me feel sane. Whilst I still had guilt and self-doubt, the nightmares were a lot less frequent. I was putting that down to the peace and calm I felt there.

  Cam didn’t seem as enthused about my idea to buy the pub as I thought he would. He didn’t think it was a good fit for me considering our history. That’s exactly why I thought it was right for me. It was so different to the war zone. There were far fewer triggers for my flashbacks in Severed. The memories from Afghanistan were becoming more vivid. They felt so real. It was almost as though I was back there on that road. I could taste the dry grit of the sand, feel the heat of the fire, and hear the screams from behind me. I could see the child in the road ahead of me. He was barely a teenager. Friend, or foe? How was I supposed to tell in this hellish place? It had been drilled into us that no-one, man, woman or child was to be trusted. Simple human decency almost destroyed the whole team; I couldn’t possibly shoot a child. Gut instinct saved us, and left me with guilt I wasn’t sure I could ever overcome.

  The hardest part of my plan was telling Gran, but being the strong character she is, she supported me all the way. Within days the deal was done and Luke, one of our team from Afghanistan, was on a flight to help me pick contractors, fixtures, and fittings.

  Helping the contractors with the refit had left me exhausted at the end of each day, and my sleep had been better. Cam had gone home but frequently told me on the phone that I was using this refurbishment project to hide from my feelings. He was pushing me to go back to the therapist and actually talk this time. The journal had sat abandoned on my bedside table since I arrived. I understood where he was coming from. I wasn’t dealing with my emotions and feelings; I was hiding them with strenuous effort and mental exhaustion. I didn’t have time to think about them right then.

  Being here in Severed was almost an opportunity for me to reinvent myself. When my new bar staff had asked me about my past I'd been almost curt in my dismissal of the subject. I decided there and then that the past was past. Unless I decided to talk to a therapist it was dead and buried just like Max and the child that I killed. It was time to invent a new me.

  Opening night caught me out, not with how busy the bar was; I’d kind of expected that. It was the way a certain brunette brought back feelings I thought I'd never experience again. I actually felt sexually attracted to her. That's something that had been missing the entire ride here with Cam, no matter how many friends his conquests had left me to entertain. The girls had been attractive enough, and the old me would have had them in bed before you could shake a stick, but since the incident with Georgia, the mere thought of taking anyone to bed repulsed me. Until that night. Holly was part of the local MC, and that meant I’d have to tread carefully if I didn’t want to upset the status quo around there.

  I picked up the journal for the first time in weeks a
nd sketched her, the memory of the way her hair fell on her shoulder and the smile in her eyes came clearly to me. The sketch was a pretty good representation of her, but I took my pen and scratched through it. I couldn’t risk a relationship. What if it became a repeat of that night with Georgia? I needed to forget about her.

  Severed lost a little of its shine the following day when the MC sent a couple of its guys to visit me. There was a touch of bravado from all of us, jostling for seniority, but we ended the meeting with a healthy respect for each other, despite my refusal to reveal my past. There was a drug problem in Severed, and they had wanted to make sure I wasn’t it. I had made it very clear how I felt about drugs, without letting on why. The whole thing with Max was still too raw, the guilt too fresh.

  The guys from the MC were unaware of the contacts I still had from my military days, and I decided to use them to find out what was going on in my new hometown. The news wasn’t good. I may have left Afghanistan behind, but it turns out I hadn’t escaped conflict, far from it in fact. I had a horrible feeling that the shit was about to hit the fan big time.

  Despite my caution about her, Holly had a way of drawing me in. Bit by bit she was capturing my heart and making me feel again. Good feelings, not the terror and horror that I’d become used to. Even though I needed to spend time concentrating on resolving the shit storm I’d walked into in Severed, I allowed myself to be talked into a moonlight picnic with her.

  The evening was like something out of a cheesy romance, lying on a blanket under the stars at the side of a creek. She even looked the part in her tiny denim skirt and chequered shirt. We made small talk through the picnic, and it turned out she’d lost someone close to her as well. I could feel the guilt she was hiding. You can’t bull shit a bull shitter, I could sense a kindred spirit, although I didn’t think she was struggling as deeply as I was. Hers seemed a healthier and more natural level of grief. It was like fate had decided we should be together to heal each other.

  I felt like a teenager again, back at the creek on my gran's farm, making out with one of the girls from school. I don't remember how it happened, but before long we'd practically undressed each other. She’d traced her nails down my bare chest towards the top of my jeans and it had felt like an electric current was running through my body. Before I could get my hand in her panties she’d undone my jeans and grabbed hold of my hard cock. Fuck, that felt so good. Managing to pull aside her panties I’d pushed my finger into her, using my thumb to tease her clit. God, she was so wet. She’d tried her best to give me a hand job but had become distracted by her impending orgasm. Watching her explode was amazing; it had made me feel warm inside. It had never been that satisfying for me before, normally I’d become too focussed on reaching my own release to take much notice. Removing her underwear I’d hesitated, waiting for her confirmation that she wanted more. No sooner had she whispered an acknowledgment than I was reaching for a condom.

  Thrusting into her felt so good, she fitted me perfectly. It was almost like we were made for each other. Her legs wrapped around me, pulling me deeper. Moving one of her legs down on the ground, the other still on my back, put us almost side by side facing each other and allowed me to thrust even deeper. Groaning in ecstasy, and unable to ignore her exquisite nipples, I’d drawn one into my mouth, biting down and relishing the sound of her crying out. I couldn't help the loud roar as my orgasm hit and my cock filled her warm pussy with its release. She had the smuggest grin I've ever seen on her face as she lay back sated afterwards.

  I wanted to see Holly again, I knew I shouldn’t, but there was a connection there that made me feel whole again. The timing couldn’t have been worse as the trouble had started escalating in Severed. The tattoo shop that the MC own got trashed along with several of their bikes. It was a response to them warning off a drug dealer. I was reluctant to get involved, but then the clubhouse of another MC got bombed and people died. This shit was way out of the MC’s league. It was obvious that the dealers had some serious connections, and it had become time for me to call on mine before Severed turned into a war zone.

  It was on a trip to Melbourne to see my old army buddy Chris that I realized I couldn't be with Holly anymore. Whilst staying at his apartment he'd woken me in the middle of a nightmare and I almost strangled him. He's a bloody tough guy and it was obvious that I'd scared the crap out of him. If he hadn't been so strong he might not have been able to fight me off.

  If that had been Holly… the thought haunted me. I returned to Severed and tried to stay away from her. It was easy at first as I had the excuse I was helping her MC deal with the drug problem and needed to stay away from her to keep her safe. Holly's a strong character, that's probably why I was so attracted to her, and that meant she wouldn't take no for an answer.

  Holly and I had a row on my return from Melbourne; she couldn't understand why I couldn't be around her. She'd caught me off guard when I was tired and apparently I'd fallen asleep on her. I'd woken up next to her, angry that she was still there after I'd told her to go home. She kept pushing me and I'd finally told her about having nightmares, although not the details or the reason behind them. I also told her that I thought I was a risk to her when I was in that state. She shocked the hell out of me when she told me I'd had a nightmare sleeping next to her, but that she'd held me and spoken to me and calmed me down. I'd touched her throat, tracing the unmarked skin and questioned why there wasn't any evidence of me trying to strangle her. Her response was that she'd hugged my nightmare away. I couldn't believe her. We'd had sex then, brutal, wild sex. I'd fucked her from behind, slapping her arse and we'd rutted like animals. It was harsh, hot sex and I'd hoped in a way it would scare her away. Instead, she'd loved it. We both had. We'd then had sex in the shower. I needed to end it with her, but she was like an addiction I couldn't give up.

  The drug situation came to a head, and I called in support from Cam and the rest of my team. One night we joined forces with the MC and sorted the problem once and for all, the way only the military in us knew how. It was dawn the next morning before we walked away from the wreckage. Holly ambushed us as we returned, refusing to accept that there was nothing between us.

  When she finally left, tears in her eyes and vowing to return, Cam collared me. He asked me why I was being such a bloody fool, and for the first time, I told him just how bad things were. How scared I was that I'd hurt Holly, that I couldn't keep her safe from the nightmares that haunted me, and that I was afraid of a repeat of the Georgia scenario. He didn't tell me I was stupid, he didn't tell me off. Instead, he begged me to see a therapist, to try again even though it had failed before. His argument was that now I had something to fight for – Holly – and that made all the difference.

  I'd still not been able to write in my journal, but at least now I wasn't scratching out the images of Holly when I sketched them. Everything about her felt so right if it hadn't been for the nightmares and the guilt and shame I still carried deep in my soul, I wouldn't have thought twice about a relationship with her.

  I’d also had a talk with Chris before he returned to Melbourne. He’d come to Severed along with the rest of my team to help us and brought a load of military hardware with him. He’d told me that I was the only one who could make the decision to be with Holly; but that he liked the Declan he saw when I was with her. He was right. I was the only one who could make the decision.

  Sitting in the bar I'd looked around and realized that being in this place did make me happy. That was a feeling I didn't think I'd ever have again. It wasn't just the bar and Severed though, Holly was a huge part of that happiness. I made my decision.

  I picked up the phone and made the appointment with the therapist. I was a military man, it was in my core, and now it was time that I chose to fight for the most important thing in my life… my woman.

  About the Author

  Ava is a passionate reader, blogger, publisher, and author who loves nothing more than helping other Indie authors publish their books b
e that reviewing, beta reading, formatting or proofreading. She will always be a reader first and foremost.

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  As Ava says: “I took a chance and followed a dream when I wrote my first book. It was scary, challenging and hard work, but above all it was worth it.”

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  Wrecked

  by

  T.A. Mckay

  Blurb:

  Ralph can only think of one thing. Returning home to the man he loves after being stationed away for five months. Unfortunately it doesn’t work out exactly the way he hopes. Abandoned at the airport and kicked to the kerb, Ralph is left with nowhere to go and no one to help him. Luck is on his side in the shape of Aiden. The kind driver takes pity on him and gives him a bed to sleep in until he can get everything sorted.