Rescuing Mary

by Susan Stoker

  She felt worse and worse as Truck fielded questions about his health. The old her would’ve been glad she didn’t have to talk about her appointment and happy the attention was deflected from her. But she’d promised herself she would try to curb her bitch tendencies. She hadn’t meant to out Truck, but she had anyway. And now she felt like shit about it.

  Rayne came over to her as Truck was reassuring his friends. “Did you do that on purpose?” she asked.

  Mary didn’t even try to pretend she didn’t know what Rayne was talking about. “No.” When Rayne looked skeptical, Mary went on. “I didn’t. It just came out, I wasn’t trying to get him in trouble with the guys.”

  “Why?”

  “The nurse wanted to know why I hadn’t rescheduled the appointment I’d skipped.”

  “And you haven’t told Truck about the cancer yet,” Rayne correctly deduced.

  “Nope.”

  “Oh, Mare. You need to.”

  Mary sighed. “I will.”

  “When?”

  “I don’t know, okay? I want to enjoy being just me. Not the poor woman with no boobs who almost fucking died.”

  Instead of being put off by Mary’s harsh words, Rayne glared at her. “Boo-fucking-hoo,” she said.

  “What?” Mary asked in shock.

  “You heard me. We’ve already had this conversation, but it seems as if we need to have it again. I want to know where my kick-ass friend went. The girl who never let anything get her down. Who was like one of those fucking weird Weeble toys.”

  “Huh?” Mary couldn’t get over the fact that the shoe was on the other foot, and Rayne was being a bitch to her.

  “You know…Weebles wobble but they don’t fall down. Mary, I’ve always admired you because when the shit hits the fan, you don’t stand there and cry about it. You deal. But you are not dealing with this cancer situation at all.”

  Now Mary was getting mad. “You don’t understand.”

  “Bullshit. I do.”

  “No, you don’t. You haven’t almost fucking died—twice. You haven’t had your tits try to kill you so you had to chop them off. You’ve got a killer fucking body with beautiful curves that your man loves to put his hands all over. I’m still too skinny, I’m flat as a board. Excuse the fuck out of me for wanting Truck to keep looking at me the way he does now. Without pity.”

  “He’s never once looked at you with pity,” Rayne fired back. “If you’d open your eyes and see him, you’d know that. He loves you, Mary. Not your body, not your boobs.”

  Mary wanted to keep the bitch up, but couldn’t. She wanted to believe Rayne, so fucking badly, but she was scared. Scared that the second she let down her guard, Truck would come to his senses. Or he’d remember everything. How awful she’d been to him when she was sick. How he’d seen her at her lowest. How he thought she’d married him only for his insurance when the fact of the matter was that she’d married him because she loved him.

  She needed to apologize to Truck. To tell him she hadn’t meant to blab about his continued headaches. “I need to talk to Truck,” she told Rayne.

  Rayne’s voice gentled. “Tell him about the cancer,” Rayne urged. “It’s eating you alive, Mare.”

  “I’ll think about it,” Mary told her.

  Rayne leaned forward and hugged her, hard. “You do that,” she said. “Call me tonight, bitch. I’ll give you the update on Emily and the baby.”

  Nodding, Mary knew she didn’t deserve a best friend like Rayne. They might fight, but they always made up and never held grudges. She loved that about their friendship.

  Mary took a deep breath and walked over to where Truck was standing talking to Ghost. “Truck?”

  He turned to her, and she almost flinched at the frustrated look on his face. Ghost stepped away, giving them some privacy.

  “I’m sorry,” she said immediately. “It just popped out.”

  Truck ran a hand over his jaw and nodded.

  Mary swallowed. In the past, Truck would’ve immediately told her it was okay and let her off the hook…thus making it easy to keep being a bitch, because she didn’t suffer any consequences from it. But now that she had to own up to what she’d done, and he wasn’t giving her an automatic out, it hit home just how much she’d taken advantage of his easygoing nature.

  Feeling uncomfortable, and knowing she needed to retreat to lick her wounds, she bit her lip. “I need to get going,” she said.

  Truck simply stared down at her.

  Shifting awkwardly, Mary knew she was doing what she always did—running—but couldn’t help it. “I’ll talk to you later.”

  When Truck didn’t respond, just continued to look at her with that disappointed expression on his face, she couldn’t take it anymore. “Tell Annie bye for me,” she whispered, then turned and headed for the exit.

  Truck watched in frustration as Mary left. She was keeping something from him. Something big. And he hated it. He believed her when she’d said she hadn’t meant to tell the others about his headaches, and he’d already forgiven her for that. But he’d wanted her to explain why she’d felt the need to change the subject earlier.

  He wanted to find the nurse Mary had been talking to and demand she tell him about the appointment Mary had missed, but he knew she wouldn’t talk to him. It was frustrating as hell.

  “You sure you’re all right?” Ghost asked for the tenth time.

  “I’m fine,” Truck said…again. “Enough.”

  “It’s been three weeks,” Coach said. “The headaches should be receding.”

  “The doc also said there was a chance they wouldn’t. That it would take longer for the bruises on my brain to heal,” Truck told his friend.

  “Are you remembering anything more?” Beatle asked.

  “Maybe.”

  “Maybe?” Blade asked. “What kind of answer is that?”

  “An honest one,” Truck said with a chuckle. “I don’t remember anything specific, it’s more like feelings, as if I’ve been somewhere before or done something before.”

  “Like?” Ghost asked.

  “Like earlier today when I entered this waiting room, it felt as if I’d done it before.”

  “You have,” Coach confirmed. “When Kassie had her baby.”

  “Right. That’s what Mary said,” Truck agreed. “But it’s more too. Scents are big for me. I can smell something and get an immediate sense of déjà vu. I might hear something and get the same feeling. It’s…odd.”

  “It’s good,” Ghost said.

  “Yeah, I think so too. Which is why I’m not too concerned about my headaches. They’re really just a nuisance.”

  “So why did Mary make such a big deal out of them then?” Blade asked.

  “Because she’s worried about me,” Truck said without hesitation. “I honestly don’t think she meant to get me in trouble with you guys, but she missed an appointment of some kind and the nurse was asking her about it. When I asked what the appointment was for, she clammed up, which isn’t like her. She usually has no problem answering my questions, especially when it’s something she knows I’ve forgotten.”

  He waited for someone to tell him what he wanted to know—but suddenly everyone was extremely interested in their watch. Or the floor. Or the walls.

  Damn it all to hell. He was done with this shit.

  “I’m out of here,” Truck told his friends.

  “Truck, wait,” Ghost implored.

  “I’m sick to death of being kept in the dark about things from my own fucking life. I thought we’d gotten past that shit?”

  “It’s not our place to tell you,” Coach said. “It’s Mary’s.”

  “It was your place to tell me about your women,” Truck fired back. “But you didn’t do that either. Mary did. Someone tell me. Right fucking now.”

  He gave his friends ten uncomfortable seconds, and when no one said anything, Truck shook his head and headed for the door.

  He was pissed. Beyond pissed.

 
A woman was about to enter the room when he stormed out the door, and she squeaked in alarm when she saw him. But Truck didn’t care. He usually did his best to not seem intimidating when he was out in public, but he was beyond caring about that at the moment.

  He was sick of all the secrets.

  Sick of not knowing what the hell was going on around him.

  But more than that, he was worried.

  About Mary.

  He couldn’t stop thinking about her on his way home.

  He thought about her as he went up to his apartment.

  He thought about her as he made something to eat for dinner.

  He thought about her as he sat on his couch and watched the news.

  He thought about her as he brushed his teeth.

  And he definitely thought about her as he lay in his bed.

  When he closed his eyes, Truck could swear that he felt Mary’s body next to his. He actually reached for her, but when his hand encountered nothing but cool sheets, he knew he was hallucinating.

  Or was he?

  Could he be remembering?

  Mary had stayed the night twice since they’d slept together on her couch, but both times they’d stayed out in his living room.

  So why could he practically sense her here in his bedroom?

  Opening his eyes and turning over, Truck flicked on the light next to his bed. His eyes slowly roamed the room, looking for something, anything, that would tell him he wasn’t making things up that he just wanted to be true.

  His eyes stopped on a section of wall next to the door leading out to the hall.

  He stared at the white wall for several minutes, trying to bring something into focus that was just out of reach.

  Sighing in frustration, Truck flopped back on the bed and stared at the ceiling.

  Mary was his. He knew it down to the marrow of his bones, but he didn’t know how to break through the barrier that was still between them. It was frustrating. He wanted to tell her that no matter what had happened with them in the past, it didn’t matter now.

  But he had a feeling it did matter. A lot.

  Tomorrow, he’d start getting to the bottom of things. He was a Delta Force soldier, for God’s sake. One who was currently on a forced break. It was time he tried to find out about his and Mary’s past on his own.

  Feeling better now that he had some sort of plan, Truck closed his eyes once more. His imagination kicked in, and his hand moved of its own volition. He brushed it against his dick and felt himself immediately harden.

  “Fuck it,” he whispered and pushed his boxers down, freeing his cock. Then, bringing the feeling of having Mary against his side to the forefront of his mind, Truck got himself off. After he’d gone to the bathroom and cleaned up and returned to his bed, he felt much more relaxed.

  Mary was his.

  Period.

  And no one would keep him from her.

  Not his friends, and certainly not Mary herself.

  Chapter Twelve

  The next morning, after Truck had made a pot of coffee and a spinach and mushroom omelet, he heard a knock on his door. He was shocked to see Mary standing on the other side when he looked through the peephole.

  He opened the door quickly and said, “Mary.”

  “Surprised to see me?” she asked a little hesitantly.

  “Actually, yes,” Truck told her. But he was just glad she was there. He’d had time to think about what had happened the day before, and he’d realized the more abrupt she was, the more emotional she was feeling. Whatever had happened right before she’d told the others about his continued headaches had obviously touched her deeply.

  “Can I come in? We need to talk.”

  “Of course,” Truck said, opening the door wider. He inhaled deeply as she walked past him and, once again, the feeling of familiarity swept through him.

  * * *

  Mary was lying in bed in front of him. Her head was resting on his arm, using it as a pillow. His chin was resting on top of her head and his free arm was curled around her waist. She was moaning softly, and Truck was murmuring quietly to her.

  He felt helpless to help her. He couldn’t take away the nausea. He couldn’t magically fix her. All he could do was hold her and let her know that she wasn’t alone. That he was right there with her. Loving her.

  He moved his hand to run his fingers lightly up and down her arm. Neither spoke, but he was letting her know without words that he was there. That she could lean on him. That he’d take care of her.

  * * *

  “Truck?”

  He blinked and the vision was gone. It had been so real, he knew it had to be a memory.

  Keeping it to himself, Truck said, “Sorry. Did you say something?”

  “Are you okay?” she asked.

  “Yeah. Just haven’t had enough coffee this morning.”

  She smiled at that. “You do love your coffee,” she said under her breath. Then louder, “I have to get to work, but I didn’t want to leave things between us the way they were, and I didn’t want to text you or talk over the phone.”

  Truck was surprised. He didn’t know why, but this didn’t seem like the Mary he knew. She was more likely to hold a grudge forever, and he’d have to make the first move. “I always have time for you, Mary,” he said gently.

  She looked at the floor. “I’m sorry about yesterday. I know I said it before, but I need to say it again. I’m not only sorry for blabbing about your headaches, but I know it’s not fair of me to tell you some things then clam up about others. I…I want to talk to you, but I’m scared.”

  Truck took a step toward her and put his hand on the side of her neck. “Do not be afraid of me,” he ordered a bit gruffly, put off by the mere thought that she might be scared of him.

  “I’m not scared of you, per se,” she said immediately, without pulling away from him. “I know you won’t hurt me…physically.”

  “You think I’d hurt you emotionally?” he asked.

  Mary nodded. “Every man I’ve ever gotten close to has.”

  “I’m not them,” Truck said, willing her to believe him.

  “I know. Which is why I’m here,” she admitted.

  Not able to stop himself, Truck leaned down and kissed her on the forehead. It was a chaste kiss, but it felt more intimate than almost anything they’d done. It was a promise of sorts. “Whenever you need me, I’m there.”

  She gave him a shaky smile. “Okay. As I said, I have to get to work. We have a meeting this morning with our boss. I think she’s going to announce layoffs, which sucks.”

  “Fuck. Are you going to lose your job?” Truck asked with concern.

  Mary shrugged. “I don’t know. Probably. But I think I’m okay with it if I do. I…missed a lot of work last year, and it just hasn’t been the same since I’ve been back. I was surprised my boss let me leave early yesterday, but I think it’s because she’s just collecting reasons to can me. I think she’s bitter that she couldn’t fire me, and I’ve found that I just don’t have the same kind of drive to work there as I used to. Not to mention the assholes we’ve had to deal with recently are making things really tense.”

  “What kind of assholes?” Truck asked, his hand tightening on her neck.

  Mary shrugged. “That’s just it, I’m not sure. I mean, I’m sure they’re assholes, but they haven’t really done anything to make my boss do anything about them.”

  “Mary. Spit it out,” Truck said.

  “Sorry. It’s just that there have been lots of young men coming in and asking questions about renting safety-deposit boxes. Which, on the surface, is fine, but they’re sketchy. They seem too young to really care about renting one—statistics show that most renters are older—and I just get a bad vibe from them. And I’ve told Jennifer, but she says that I’m just being paranoid.”

  “This doesn’t sound like something to fuck around with. What if they’re casing the place?” Truck asked. “They could be coming in to get information, to see the
layout of the bank, to see how many employees are working, stuff like that. The last thing you need is someone holding up the place.”

  Mary’s eyes fell from his, and he wondered what that was about, but she simply nodded and said, “I know. But for some reason, as I said, my boss doesn’t seem to think it’s an issue. Anyway, so all of that stuff combined makes me not so upset at the idea of being laid off.”

  “What would you do instead?”

  “I’m not sure. But there are a ton of organizations around here that I could probably volunteer for until I figure it out.”

  Truck had a feeling she knew exactly what she wanted to do, but wasn’t comfortable enough telling him yet. Again, he let it go. “You want to come back over after work?”

  “Yeah, if that’s okay.”

  “Of course. My home is your home,” Truck said, and he got the impression that he’d said that to Mary before.

  She smiled. “Okay. I’ll text before I come over. Thanks, Truck. I’m sorry that I’m so bitchy sometimes. I…it’s just how I am.”

  Truck leaned forward and put his forehead on hers. Their breath mingled together and he could feel the warmth of her body against his. Her fresh smell was sharper this close and he reveled in it. “I like how you are, Mary. And your bitch doesn’t bother me. I know what’s under her.”

  “What?”

  “My Mary,” Truck said simply.

  She swallowed hard and closed her eyes. They stood like that for a long moment before Truck reluctantly pulled back.

  Mary looked up at him and nodded. “I’ll see you later then.”

  “You will. And, Mary?”

  “Yeah?” She paused with her hand on the doorknob.

  “It’s going to be okay. Whatever you need to tell me, I’ll treat you with care.”

  She stared at him for a few seconds, then nodded. “I know. I’m just scared you’re gonna be pissed enough to not want to do this anymore.”

  “Nothing will make me pissed enough to not want to do this,” he gestured between them with a hand, “anymore.”