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“Just because… because the sky is blue and the sea is green.”

And then he started to cry. He fisted his hands over his eyes and sobbed into my arms. And, at last, I could hold him. I wrapped my arms around him and held him tightly, willing the darkness away, trying to heal him with my body, with my touch.

“I love you, Sebastian, please don
’t push me away. I love you.”

“
Oh God, Caro. I just don’t know what I’m doing any more; I’m so fucked up – I feel like I can’t fucking breathe. Don’t give up on me, Caro. Please don’t give up on me. I need you, baby. I love you so much. I’m so sorry.”

I could forgive anything now that he
’d let me touch him.

I held him for an hour, just stroking his hair, as he rested his head in my lap, my fingers
running over his rough beard. I realized he’d taken one small step towards me, towards living again – I needed him to take another.

“It
’s time to go out now, Sebastian,” I said, softly.

He closed his eyes and swallowed.

“I don’t know if I can do that, Caro.”

“You don
’t have to do this by yourself, Sebastian. We go together. Come on, tesoro. Together.”

I could tell he was nervous, so we took it slowly. I gave him my
Yankees baseball cap, which he pulled down over his eyes, and he wore his old biker jacket, which hung loosely from his shoulders, emphasizing how thin he’d become.

I took his hand, and
, with Sebastian leaning heavily on his walking stick, we made our way slowly along West Beech Street. Sebastian kept looking over his shoulder, checking the windows of buildings along the road, and I knew he was unconsciously looking for snipers. I didn’t hurry him, we went at his pace, but the feeling that flowed through me from being with him outdoors at last, was almost overwhelming.

“There
’s a café over there, Sebastian. Why don’t we go have a coffee?”

“I don
’t know, Caro… sitting outside? I wouldn’t feel… safe.”

“Sebastian, you know rationally that there
’s nothing to worry about. Let’s just try it for a couple of minutes: if you really can’t handle it, we’ll leave.”

He twitched unhappily, but didn
’t argue.

The waiter came towards us and Sebastian flinched away from him.

“I’ll have an espresso… Sebastian?”

His eyes were wide with fear, constantly flicking nervously about him.

“And a Bud Light,” I answered for him.

The waiter wandered away: he wa
s used to a bit of crazy among his customers.

I couldn
’t say that Sebastian truly relaxed, but he sipped his beer and began to look a fraction less anxious.

He seemed happier once we were moving again. I could tell he was tired, but I wanted him to see the ocean up close, and not just from the windows of our
small home.

The boardwalk was busy, full of people strolling in the sunshine. A teenager on a skateboard swept past and my poor, wounded man trembled with terror at the sudden noise.

“It’s okay, tesoro. You’ll be okay.”

“Fuck, Caro,” he said, his face white with fear.

We carried on walking, Sebastian clinging onto my hand and trying to control his rapid breathing.

It hurt badly to see him so scared when he
’d always been so strong, but I knew the only way to help him was to force him to face his fears. We’d face them together.

When we reached
the end of the Boardwalk, we found an empty bench and sat looking at the ocean. He breathed in deeply, and I saw that it calmed him. The waves tumbled across the sand and the repeated, rhythmical motion soothed us both. A couple of kids were playing on body boards, shouting out happily. Sebastian leaned forward to watch them, his face alight with interest. The ocean had always been his place of refuge, somewhere his parents couldn’t touch him, and the beach had always had a special significance for us. I became determined that we’d walk here every day, because I believed it would help Sebastian to get stronger. And it would bring us together.

“The ocean always reminds me of you, tesoro. It
’s the same color as your eyes today.”

He looked at me in surprise, then
lifted my hand to his lips and kissed it.

“Caro.”

He breathed my name softly, like a prayer.

As we sat in the sunshine, a light breeze ruffling my hair, I felt life flowing back into his body. He closed his eyes, relaxing in the summer warmth, his face held up towards the light like a young plant that had been kept in the dark.

“Thank you for this, Caro,
” he whispered.

I leaned against him and he wrapped his
good arm around my shoulder, pulling me in.

“Ready to go home, tesoro?”

He nodded, and we stood up to walk back to our home.

I
led us back by a different route to the bungalow, and we strolled past a café that I’d not seen before: it must have opened while we were living as hermits. Three men with black hair, olive skin and dark eyes, seemed to be arguing loudly. I wanted to take the long way around in case they reminded him of Afghanistan, but something about them intrigued Sebastian. He looked up, and I could tell he was listening to what they were saying. I realized they must be speaking a language he recognized, which could mean they were Afghans.

I was really worried, wondering what to do for the best.
I glanced around, seeing if there were any taxis nearby. And then I was astonished to see a small smile lift Sebastian’s lips.

My heart soared. I hadn
’t seen him smile like that since he’d come home.

As we walked past, Sebastian threw in a comment. The men stared at him in amazement. One called out something else and Sebastian replied. Suddenly all the men started shouting at once. They came towards him, and I was worried it might be too much, but soon they were deep in conversation and I could tell they were asking him questions. Then Sebastian grinned at them. It was like seeing the sun after a month of rain, and I dared to feel hope.

They talked a little longer and then Sebastian introduced me. The men greeted me respectfully but with little interest, and eventually, after several more minutes where I didn’t understand a single word, but stood happily as Sebastian stroked my hand, watching him chat away, he said goodbye and we carried on walking.

“What on earth were you talking about for so long?”

“Baseball,” he said.

I stared at him doubtfully.

“You’re kidding me?”

He smiled again, “Universal language, Caro.”

And just like that, the world began to turn again.

The first change was that Sebastian started doing the exercises that the
therapist had given him: exercises to help build up dexterity in the fingers of his left hand, and leg stretches to help the damaged muscles of his right thigh, and he even used the exercise bike that I’d ordered for him – although he’d shouted at me the day it had been delivered. He also began doing sit-ups and push-ups with a vengeance.

The second change came
a week after meeting the Afghan men. It was evening, and I was standing in the kitchen, cooking pasta arrabiata for our supper, when Sebastian poked his head around the door, a quizzical expression on his face.

I stared at him for a moment before I
realized what was different.

“You
’ve shaved!”

“Well, you didn
’t like the beard, did you?”

“That
’s putting it mildly, Sebastian.”

He looked so beautiful, my heart gave another, small, hopeful lurch.

The third, and most startling change, was that he slipped his hands around my waist and nuzzled my neck. I was so shocked, I froze. His smile fell away and he let go.

“No, tesoro, no!” and I pulled his arms back around my waist, laying my head on his chest. I couldn
’t help the tears spilling down my cheeks, soaking into his T-shirt.

“I
’m so sorry, baby,” he said, stroking my hair.

“Oh, God, I
’ve missed you, Sebastian.”

“I know, baby,” he said, gently, “but I
’m here now.”

It felt so good to have his arms around me after
months of his numb coldness and distance.

I lifted my head to look at him, and he wiped my tears away with his thumbs.

“I’m sorry I made you cry, baby,” he said, softly. “I never meant to hurt you. I know that I did.”

I locked my arms around his neck and pulled his head down, kissing his lips, gently at first, and then with increasing hunger and need.

He hesitated for a fraction of a second, then his lips parted and I felt his tongue sweep into my mouth, and sudden, hot, unexpected arousal flooded through me.

I moaned into his mouth, the intensity of my desire taking me by surprise. Sebastian gasped and stepped back half a pace, gazing down at me.

Inside, I was begging him not to reject me again, but I felt strongly that the next step needed to come from him.

“I want to make love to you, Caro.”

His voice was so quiet I could hardly hear him.

“You do?” I breathed.

“God, yes, baby. Only if you want to.”

I stared at his face, and found the love in his eyes that seemed to have been hidden for so long.

“I’ve waited and waited to hear you say that, tesoro.”

I turned off the gas stove, abandoning the pasta.

He held my hand, gazing into my eyes as we walked into the bedroom.

Chapter
18

The last time we
’d made love it had been in a small, stinking mud-built room, in a former police compound in Nowzad; now it was very different.

He stood hesitantly next to the bed, and it reminded me so much of our very first time together. He
’d been broken then, too.

I pulled the curtains, but the sun was still high in the sky and the room was filled with a soft, muted light.

I walked back over to him and reached up to stroke his face. He leaned into my hand and his eyes closed.

“I don
’t know if I can…”