Broken Soldier: A Novel Read Online Free

guess.”
    Christa rolled her eyes. “God save us from guessing psychologists.”

Chapter 5

    R AFA  double-checked his phone, making sure he was at the right place. It said “Gulliver’s Bar and Grille” over the door, but the sign was cracked and the paint was peeling. It was not the kind of place he expected Emily to frequent, but the name was right.

    He peered through the windows, trying to get a feel for what kind of people were inside. It looked like a yuppie skiing crowd. His slacks and button-up shirt were a touch overdressed, but the crowd was probably safe. He entered quickly, closing the heavy door behind him to keep the bell from rattling. A susurrus of sound hit him, conversations and laughter and the clink of glasses on the long granite bar top.
    Emily waved from a small table across from the bar. He passed through the crowd, eyes on her the whole way. She looked amazing. Another dress, this one navy and with sleeves. Her legs peaked out from beneath, and he could see the full shape of her calves. He sat across from her, taking care to tuck his injured right leg under the table where it wouldn’t be a tripping hazard for anyone else.
    “I’m glad you could make it,” she said.
    “I’m glad to be here.” It bothered him to have his back to the door. He tried to tell himself that he was in the middle of the US. Men with guns weren’t going to just burst through.
    “You okay?” she asked.
    “I’m good. Have the police found your car yet?”
    “They found it Thursday night.”
    That sounded ominous. He waited for her to continue.
    “It was totaled. Whoever had it ran it into a telephone pole north of Denver.”
    “That’s terrible. You have a rental, no?”
    “I do. I’m going to look at new cars tomorrow.” A waiter--thin, maybe forty, not dangerous--came over and took their drink orders. “So that’s me,” Emily said when the waiter left. “How are you doing?”
    He shrugged. “I’m good.” As good as he could be, all things considered.
    “So you’ve traveled a lot, right?”
    He smiled. Innocuous conversation. That was a good thing. Probably. At least it meant that she wasn’t trying to analyze him. “You could say that.”
    “So what was your favorite place?”
    He spent a while talking about hiking in the Pyrenees and snorkeling off the coast of Portugal. She talked about jogging in the mountains in the warm weather months, skiing in the colder ones. It made him keenly aware of his leg, but it caught his attention, too. He yearned to run in the mountains again. Say what you would about Afghanistan, but it had pretty scenery. The mountains were what had brought him to Boulder, after all. That and the VA down in Denver.
    “So what are you going to do after you’re discharged?” she asked. It caught him by surprise. His eyes narrowed.
    “What do you mean?” Had she just been trying to lull him?
    “I talked to Christa and she said that you were probably leaving the service. You said your family had been in the service for generations. It made me wonder if there was any other family business.”
    “I see. The family business has been... I guess you could say conquest. My father is a consultant at a Washington firm now that he’s retired. I could probably find something like that, but I do not think it is for me.”
    She leaned forward, balancing her elbows on the edge of the table. “What is for you, Rafa?”
    “I don’t know. Perhaps I will write a book?” He studied his good left hand. “Though typing one-handed is not the easiest thing in the world.”
    “You could dictate it,” Emily said. “Take a recorder, go out on the trails and hike. Dictate a chapter or two. It works for a lot of people.”
    “Are you a writer, too?”
    “I dabble when I can.”
    Rafa took a sip of his beer. It was weird how all of their conversations turned into a sort of jousting match.
    He loved it.
    So many people were just “nice.” They abhorred conflict, content to take the