Christopher's Medal by S.A. Laybourn Read Free Book Online Page B

* * *
    Christopher sat on his bed, leaning against a pillow. The phone sat on the bedside table amidst a clutter of loose coins and old receipts and he couldn’t bring himself to pick it up. Conversations just weren’t enough anymore. When he heard her voice, it made him hurt. He wanted to be with her, curled up in the tangle of sheets while she slept in his arms. He would wake her with a kiss, a lot of kisses, along her shoulder, her neck, the curve of her jaw. It scared him how quickly he’d fallen for her, how much he ached for her. He replayed the time he’d spent with her over and over in his head, picking over each memory, loving each one—Grace in the morning, rumpled and sleepy, her hair a tangle of dark chocolate silk on the pale yellow pillow, the cool satin of her skin beneath his fingers when she moved with him, her soft sighs, her purrs.
    Christopher wondered if he should try to forget her. He was going to Afghanistan in October and he didn’t think it would be wise to fall in love then bugger off. He would have enough to worry about trying to stay alive. He didn’t want to have to worry about missing her, or her missing him. He’d gone to the officers’ club earlier and tried to drink her away. Three double Irish whiskeys had left him maudlin, slightly dizzy and wanting her more. He knew he’d have a hangover in the morning, he knew he would wake aching for her. He had never fallen so far and so fast and he was frightened. Christopher didn’t think it was supposed to happen like that. He’d thought that kind of romance belonged to fairy tales and to his mother’s soppy Sunday afternoon films. But, here he was, late on a Saturday night, alone in his quarters, slightly drunk and staring at his phone.
    Things had moved beyond casual conversation about racing and training drills, of gossip and music. He couldn’t talk about everyday things with Grace anymore because how he felt would get in the way. The things that he needed to say to her couldn’t be talked about on the phone. He wanted to see her, he wanted to confess, but he knew it would take more than whiskey to give him courage, he knew he needed to be sure.

Chapter Four
    Grace rode to work on Friday morning, pounding along the Flat Gallop with Billy riding Allonby alongside. Her father wanted to gauge his fitness and had put her on the only horse in the yard who could match him for speed. Horses were so much easier to understand. The bay colt she rode, Crow Bait, was full of quirks like his sire, Green Desert, but he loved to run and she was sorry to pull him up. At least she had a horse to take to the July course that night. It would be good to confront her memories and put them to rest. She was even thinking about staying for the music because Take That were playing and the nostalgia would do her good. It would remind her of a time when things didn’t hurt and puzzle her so much.
    “Penny for them.” Billy lit a cigarette and passed it to her.
    Grace inhaled then exhaled slowly, watching the thin blue smoke drift into the warm air and disappear. “They’re not worth a penny. They’re not even worth repeating.”
    “Grace…don’t try and flannel me.” There was a note of disapproval in his voice.
    “Chris hasn’t phoned for a week. I haven’t heard from him. I’ve put the phone in the cutlery drawer and that’s where it’s staying. That’s all. I knew it was all too bloody good to be true. I’m not his type. I’ll never be Debutante of the Month in Country Life . Old Slapper of the Week in the Shit Noir, more like.”
    “Jesus, you’re stubborn. What did I tell you last week?”
    “I know, I know. Can we change the subject? I’ve managed to avoid thinking too much all week. It’s better that way. I just need to get on with my job, get on with my life.” She offered him a wry smile. “The house has never been cleaner. I even managed to fix the dripping tap on the bathroom sink.”
    “There could be a perfectly logical