Sweet Dreams

by Kristen Ashley

  His hands at my head lifted me up a centimeter and his head slanted, his mouth taking mine in a wet, thorough kiss that would have been fantastic if it hadn’t made my breathing erratic which made my wound hurt.

  When his mouth let mine go, I whispered, “I love you kissing me, honey, but –”

  “Right,” he muttered, cutting me off, then he let me go, stepped back, bent and lifted me in his arms. He carried me to the living room, set me gently on the couch, threw the blanket over my legs and then put his fists in the couch on either side of my hips, his torso bent, his face in mine.

  “I’m gonna go talk to Jonas,” he said softly.

  “Good idea,” I replied and smiled but he didn’t move away, instead his eyes did a scan of my face.

  Then his hand lifted and cupped my jaw.

  Then he whispered, “You humble me.”

  I blinked then breathed, “What?”

  “Your strength, Ace, it’s got nothin’ to do with boot camp.”

  I somehow managed to swallow and smile at the same time even while fighting back tears.

  “Tate –”

  “You gonna help me have sweet dreams again, baby?” he asked softly.

  “I’ll try,” I answered.

  “It’s fresh and it ain’t gettin’ any less fresh,” he shared.

  “We’ll settle,” I promised him.

  He didn’t look like he believed me and I’d know why when he spoke again.

  “That hour, Lauren, that hour he had you, that’s an hour I’ll never forget in my whole fuckin’ life.”

  My hands came up to frame his face. “I’ll help you.”

  “I know you’ll try but I’m tellin’ you, I’ll never forget it, not in my life.”

  “Baby, don’t let him do that to you.”

  “He took your hair, he took your blood and that’s what he took from me.”

  “My hair will grow back and my wound will heal,” I told him. “And we’ll get back what he took from you, Captain. I swear, we’ll get it back.”

  “Ace –”

  “You gave me sweet dreams, Tate, now I get to return the favor.”

  Tate stared at me and I held his handsome face in my hands as I stared back.

  Then he whispered, “Love you, Ace.”

  “Love you too, Captain.”

  He touched his lips to mine then he ran his nose along mine then he pulled away and went to his son.

  I looked to the TV and then grabbed the remote to switch channels. On my third press of the button, I saw Tate’s picture on another halftime show and I hit the button to turn off mute.

  Then I turned the volume down so Tate wouldn’t hear as I listened to the commentators bragging about my old man.

  Epilogue

  Special

  I walked out of our bedroom wearing a robe, my long, wet hair combed back, a wide headband pulling it away from my face, my cell phone in my hand.

  Jonas and Tate were camped out on the new furniture in the living room watching Saturday morning, collegiate football pre-shows.

  I was pretty pleased with the results of my seven month search for the perfect living room furniture. The couch and armchairs were wide-seated, comfy and inviting and nearly brand-spanking new but not in a way where you didn’t feel like you could eat spaghetti or drink Kool-Aid on them. The new tables were rustic and sturdy so you didn’t hesitate putting your drink on them (though I bought coasters and nagged my boys to use them, something I had to do often considering they were clearly deaf to my explanations of the importance of coasters). The new carpet was thick pile, wool and cost a mint but looked freaking fabulous. The newly-painted walls were studded with pictures – not paintings or prints – family and friends. Some small frames, some large, some multi. There were photos of us on the beach in St. Thomas last Spring Break. There were photos of our trip to Indiana last summer. There were photos of the New Year’s party Krys threw at Bubba’s because Jim-Billy was out of the hospital and getting around; photos of barbeques at our house, Pop’s house, Wood’s house; photos of us horsing around in Ned and Betty’s pool; photos inside Bubba’s of the staff and the regulars, some of them just our friends, some of them me or Tate or both of us with our friends.

  The biggest was the photo of Tate, Jonas and me and it hung on the wall over the TV. In it, Tate wearing his dark suit; Jonas wearing his dark suit; me wearing a form-fitting, cream silk, boat necked dress, the hem hitting above my knee, sexy, pink strappy sandals on my feet and a massive bouquet of delicate, pale pink peonies and roses in my hand. Tate had his arm around my shoulders, my front was to his side, my arm was around his waist, my other arm, hand holding my bouquet, around Jonas’s chest. You couldn’t see it for the flowers but Tate’s fingers were curled around Jonas’s shoulder. Jonas was standing in front of us, his back pressed tight to our bodies. Jonas and me were smiling straight into the camera but Tate’s head was tipped slightly back and to the side because he’d just burst out laughing.

  Our wedding day.

  I poured myself a cup of coffee and Tate’s eyes came to me as I pulled out the stool to the island and sat at it. I smiled at him and I knew it was a soft smile, barely there. I felt my eyes get soft too, just from seeing my old man lounging on our new couch.

  Then I looked down at my phone and went to my contacts, found who I was looking for, hit the button to call and I put my phone to my ear.

  “Hey, honey,” I heard in my ear.

  “Hi, Matt,” I said back.

  It was my birthday.

  “How you doin’?” Matt asked.

  “Peachy. You?” I asked back.

  “Good. This is early, something up?”

  “Got big plans for the day,” I told him.

  “Yeah? What’re you doin’?”

  I told him and we talked and laughed and about fifteen minutes in I saw Tate move. He got up off the couch and I heard him say, “Bub, shower, we gotta go soon.”

  Then he came to me, pulled my wet hair off my shoulder, bent and kissed my neck then his hand came out to mine lying on the island. When it did, his thumb tweaked the two rings there, my engagement diamond and a very wide, gold wedding band.

  Then he pulled away and turned to the living room to see Jonas hadn’t moved.

  “Bub, I said shower,” he repeated and Jonas sighed, got up and started to slink out of the living room.

  “That your man?” Matt asked in my ear.

  I twisted my neck and watched Tate walk down the hall toward our bedroom.

  “Yeah,” I replied and I knew it sounded breathy and I figured that was uncool, considering Matt still hadn’t moved on from Ellen.

  But I couldn’t help myself.

  * * * * *

  I was standing in my undies in the bathroom, putting the finishing touches on my hair.

  Buster was sitting on the bathroom counter, her ginger eyes watching my hands in my hair.

  Tate was standing in the doorway, wearing his suit pants and a dress shirt not done up, leaning against the doorjamb, arms crossed on his chest, watching my hands in my hair.

  “You should wear it down, babe,” he noted for the fifth time.

  “Krys wants it up,” I replied.

  “Looks better down,” he told me.

  “Okay, but Krys wants it up,” I repeated.

  He didn’t answer. I finished my hair and then reached across the basin to the shelves where I kept my hairspray. This meant Buster scampered. I didn’t often use hairspray but Buster had made a habit of hanging with me in the bathroom, she’d been there when I’d given my hair a good shot and she was a smart cat. She learned quick she wanted to be nowhere near the bathroom when I was wielding a can of hairspray.

  I was about to give my hair a good dose when Tate’s body hit my back, his hands sliding along the skin at my belly.

  His mouth dropped to my bare shoulder and he muttered there, “Like this underwear, Ace.”

  He would. It was pale yellow and all lace, a strapless bra and
barely there panties.

  “Captain –”

  His big hand roamed up from my belly to cup my breast.

  “I like it a lot,” he murmured, his lips moving up to my neck.

  “Tate, we’re already going to be late.”

  I watched in the mirror as his head lifted and his eyes caught mine.

  “Right,” he muttered but the tips of his fingers trailed the lace at the edge of my bra and I shivered.

  Tate felt the shiver. I knew this because he grinned then he let me go and walked out of the bathroom.

  I dosed my hair with hairspray. Then I walked into the bedroom and dosed my body with perfume.

  Then I went to the closet to put on my bridesmaid dress.

  * * * * *

  “How many kinds of fool am I?” Krystal, standing at the back of the church about to walk down the aisle, asked. “I’m marrying Bubba in a church.”

  I stared at her in shock.

  And this was not because somewhere between seeing her yesterday at the bar and seeing her today she’d dyed her hair a deep, auburn red (that looked fantastic, by the way).

  No, it was because Krystal was nervous.

  I looked over her shoulder at Jim-Billy who looked hilarious wearing a suit with a yellow rose in his lapel. I’d never seen him in anything but jeans, t-shirts, ball caps and hospital gowns.

  He was giving Krystal away. Krys didn’t have a good relationship with her parents, so not good, they weren’t even invited. Several months ago, right in the bar, Krys had asked Jim-Billy to walk her down the aisle and she’d done it in her usual Krys, no-nonsense type of way. Even so, when she did, Jim-Billy had stared at her, then he’d burst into tears and he’d sobbed huge man sobs in his beer for at least five minutes.

  Then he said yes.

  I got close to Krys. “You’re not a fool, this is good,” I assured her.

  And it was.

  Bubba was still working construction. Bubba was also still devoted to making certain Krystal felt safe and loved at all times. Bubba didn’t drink at all anymore, even when he did shifts at the bar occasionally or when he hung there not occasionally. He never went fishing. Ever. Krys was his world and he’d devoted himself for over a year showing her that.

  It took awhile but she cracked. Then she let him back in and a week after she did, he wasted no time and tried to put a ring on her finger.

  She didn’t wear it for three weeks but eventually she gave in.

  Now, today was the big day.

  “It’s good, honey, but I don’t trust it,” she told me.

  “Krys –”

  “He’s Bubba, I know –”

  I interrupted her. “He’s Bubba and I know he’s had a taste of a world without you and he wants no part of that.”

  “Right,” she whispered, not believing me.

  “I know something else,” I went on. “I know what it’s like to give up thinking there’s something special out there and I know what it’s like to have it walk into your life and I also know what it’s like not to believe. But, honey, now I know what it’s like to live something special every freaking day.”

  “Tate is –”

  “Lucky,” I cut her off again, “’cause the something special I have is in me and I give it to him so he gives it right back. And that’s what you’ve got. You’re special, Krystal, and you deserve this and you deserve to know that Bubba finally gets it and he’s going to do everything he can to give it back.”

  She shook her head. “Darlin’, I ain’t special, I –”

  I got even closer and broke in yet again. “Took a chance on me and, doing it, gave me a shot at a beautiful life. Took a chance on Twyla when no one else would hire her because she’s crazy. Took a chance on taking back Bubba even though you were scared. And you take care of everyone around you, you aren’t sweet about it, but, honey, that doesn’t mean you don’t still do it.” Krystal stared up at me and I finished, “Now, walk up that aisle with Jim-Billy and grab onto a bit of your something special.”

  “Okay,” she whispered.

  I looked in her eyes, saw she was settled and wasn’t going to bolt. Then I looked at Jim-Billy and he smiled at me so I smiled back. Then I walked to the door of the church and saw Bubba, looking far more nervous than Krystal, Tate at his side at the front of the church. I grinned at Tate then nodded my head at the organist. She started playing Pachelbel’s Canon.

  I darted away and grabbed Krystal’s bouquet from Holly and handed it to her then Holly handed me mine then she dashed down the hall to enter the sanctuary by a side door.

  I went to stand in the doorway and held my flowers in front of me. In my strapless, pale green, to-the-knee, skintight, way-too-sexy-for-a-church-wedding dress (but Krystal insisted), I walked down the aisle smiling at Bubba then smiling at Tate.

  After I arrived at the front, the organist trailed off with Canon and started playing the wedding march.

  Everyone stood. Krystal and Jim-Billy walked down the aisle. I felt tears sting my eyes.

  After the pastor declared them husband and wife and told Bubba he could kiss his bride, Twyla shot straight up from her pew and shouted very, very loudly, “Yee ha!”

  I burst out laughing but Bubba and Krys made out through Jim-Billy jumping up and adding, “About time!” Then Nadine jumped up and yelled, “Woo hoo!” And others shot up, catcalling and shouting encouragement and screaming out cheers.

  Bubba quit kissing Krys and they turned to face the congregation and, to be heard over the clapping and shouting, the pastor had to yell his introduction to the new husband and his wife.

  Krys and Bubba walked down the aisle having to stop to shake hands, receive tight hugs and weather hearty back slaps.

  Tate came to my side and grabbed my hand, I leaned into him, grinned up at him and then we followed.

  We had to stop too as Krystal and Bubba accepted a variety of biker-type congratulations and I felt Tate’s mouth at my ear.

  “Ace, have I told you how much I fuckin’ love you in that dress?”

  I kept my eyes glued to Krystal and Bubba’s back as my breasts swelled and my mouth murmured, “Um… no.”

  “Minute we’re home, that skirt’s around your waist, baby,” Tate whispered, mouth still at my ear.

  My nipples got hard and my neck twisted. “Tate, we’re in a church,” I hissed and his brows shot up.

  “You sign the marriage certificate?” he asked.

  “Yeah,” I answered.

  “So did I so I figure God doesn’t mind. Fuck, babe, he made you that hot.”

  I glared at my old man.

  Then I burst out laughing.

  * * * * *

  I was naked, straddling Tate, his cock still hard inside me and he’d just come (though I’d come earlier, twice).

  I bent and pressed my torso to his, tilting my head back to kiss the underside of his bearded jaw.

  “Jesus, Ace,” he muttered, his arms going tight around me.

  “What?” I asked.

  “Danced all night, drank yourself stupid and you still rode me hard.”

  I lifted up to look down at him. “I didn’t drink myself stupid,” I objected.

  “Baby,” he whispered, his eyes dancing. “You’re hammered. You just let me do things to you that –”

  I smiled because I had and the things he’d done were fabulous.

  “It’s my birthday and all day I’ve been at someone else’s party. What? I don’t get my own party?” I asked.

  “Yeah baby, you can have your own party every fuckin’ night, you wanna party like that.”

  “Excellent,” I breathed and heard him chuckle.

  Then he rolled, pulling out of me, taking me to my back, him mostly on top of me and he reached out toward the nightstand. He pulled open the drawer and came back with a square box wrapped in pale blue paper and tied with a wide, see-through, darker blue ribbon.

  “Happy birthday, Ace,” Tate whispered and I looked from the box to him then I gr
abbed the box, pushed up so my shoulders were to the headboard, Tate pulled up too, so he was resting on his elbow in the pillow and I ripped off the bow and paper.

  The box said bangles and I couldn’t wait to see them. Tate more than occasionally brought me custom-made silver jewelry he got from a talented jewelry designer in Gnaw Bone by the name of Jenna. Since Christmas, he’d added so many pieces to my stash that I’d lost count. They were all one-of-a-kind and they were all fabulous.

  The paper fell away and I opened the top of the glossy, cardboard jewelry box and in it I found a big, black key fob and on the key fob was an unmistakable insignia.

  I blinked at it then I hooked the ring with my forefinger, pulled it out of the box and tossed the box to the floor beside the bed to join the paper and ribbon.

  “What is this?” I asked.

  “Escalade Hybrid. It’s parked at Wood’s garage. We’ll go down tomorrow to get it.”

  I blinked again and stared at him.

  “You bought me an SUV for my birthday?” I asked.

  “Yeah,” he answered.

  “You spent tens of thousands of dollars on a Cadillac SUV for my birthday?”

  “Uh…” he mumbled, “yeah.”

  “Tate!” I screeched.

  “Babe,” he whispered, his eyes going to the door before coming back to me, “keep it down.”

  “Are you nuts?” I hissed and watched his face go hard.

  “No,” he answered.

  “You are. That’s… a Cadillac… it’s… insane!”

  “Your fuckwad ex buy you that Lexus?” he asked and I stared hard at him.

  Then I answered, “Yes.”

  “Then that’s it, it’s gone. I’m puttin’ you in a caddy that’s far safer on mountain roads than that fuckin’ Lexus that dickhead bought you. We get rid of it and there’s nothin’ left of him and your old life. It’s just us. You, me, Jonas –”

  I cut in. “And a Cadillac.”

  His face went soft and he grinned. “And a Cadillac.”

  “Tate, you don’t even drive that fine of a ride.”