Page 8 of Blade
“I used one from an early age. Whittling wood, skinning rabbits, that sort of thing. When I got older, I kind of kept it close, and when I went into the military, it came in useful in a different way.”
“The military?” Her eyes widen. “Why the military?”
“Why not?”
I shrug, expelling a deep breath.
“Let’s just say it was the easiest option. Without my military training, I would be dead by now.”
“Dead?”
“Yeah. Excessive drinking and drugs can kind of ruin a guy’s life, and the military cleaned me up to a degree.”
“But not entirely.”
“I still drink, but strictly no drugs.”
“I see.”
“How are your hands?”
“Better, thanks.”
She smiles guiltily. “I’m not sure what came over me. I didn’t even register the pain.”
“Your mind zoned out. What were you thinking of?”
I note her cheeks turn red and she bites her lip nervously.
“You don’t have to tell me if you’d rather not, but sometimes it helps to share.”
“Memories of Angela. Perhaps I should write a book of them one day.”
Her attempt to lighten the mood doesn’t discourage me, and I snap.
“What memories?”
“Slavery.”
I can tell she’s uncomfortable and don’t want to make things worse.
“Nothing you say would shock me, darlin.”
She nods but offers nothing more than that.
“So, Delilah, should I call you that, or would you prefer to take on another identity?”
Her soft smile is surprising because it drags one from my usual surly lips.
“Darlin’ is just fine.”
I nod toward the cabin.
“I can fix you some coffee, or something stronger if you like.”
“That sounds good.”
I jump up and reach out, noting the hesitation in her eyes before she smiles and reaches for my hand.
