by Scarlet West
“Hello?”
“Sweetie!” My mom sounded excited to hear from me. Happy as that made me, I also felt a little guilty. Why had I not called her sooner? She hardly ever heard from me nowadays. “How are you my Hayley girl?”
I took a deep breath. “It’s good to hear your voice Mom.”
It was. My voice was shaky as I said it. I took another breath in. I couldn’t believe how comforting it was to hear her. I suddenly felt weak.
“It’s great to hear from you, too. How are you? How’s that gorgeous grandson of mine?”
I felt my heart flip over. Mom had never not accepted Joshua – he had been unplanned, and a surprise for everyone, but Mom had been amazing. She’d been excited for me, of all things. I think most of the fact that my life had turned out so well could be attributed to how she’d received my news.
Now, I drew a deep breath. “Everything’s okay. Joshua is good. Mom, you haven’t heard from Josh’s father? Have you?”
“No, sweetie,” she said. “I heard from him once after you moved from Oregon. But I haven’t heard from him for ages. Why?”
I let out a long breath. “And you wouldn’t have said anything? Like, we’d moved to California. Would you?”
“No!” My mom sounded quite shocked. “Of course not, honey! I would never do that. I know what a danger he is. He did ask if I knew where you’d gone. I said I didn’t know. That maybe you’d gone to your dad’s folks in Wyoming.”
“Thanks Mom,” I said. “That was a good cover.”
“Why?” she said. “Hayley, are you and Joshua alright?”
I swallowed hard. “Mom, I’m scared he’s found me.”
“No! Do you want to come and stay here with me?”
I sighed. It was tempting, but I knew that Joel would find us there too easily. We’d already considered it. It was too logical, and besides – I didn’t want to put my mother in any danger.
“No, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I said. “I would love to see you, though. Joshua too.”
I looked up to see him watching me. I waved, trying to be reassuring. He waved back, but I could see from the little frown on his face that he was worried, too. I hadn’t fooled him. He knew the worry was still there.
“Okay,” my mom said. Her voice sounded shaky. “Well if there’s anything I can do. Making a statement to the police, anything, just ask. Okay?”
I nodded. “I will. I’ll call you later. I love you Mom.”
“I love you too, sweetie. Take care.”
After I hung up I started crying again. Not desperately and frightened, as I had before, but sad, soundless tears cascaded over my cheeks now. I sniffed and wiped my cheeks to try and conceal my distress from my son. He saw me and came running over.
“We won the game!” he said, punching his fist up in elation.
I sniffed. “You won. That’s great, Josh.”
“Why’re you crying, then?” he asked curiously.
“I’m not crying,” I said, taking a shaky breath. “It’s something in my eye. That’s all.” I blinked, feigning that dirt had blown into my eyes.
My son gave me a sidelong glance. “I’m ready to go home,” he said.
I nodded, standing up. “Okay,” I said.
We went out of the park and up the street toward my car. As we did, we passed an ice cream stand.
“Want an ice cream?” I asked him.
“Yes please,” he replied enthusiastically.
We walked to the stand and waited in line.
“I kicked the best goal of the day,” he added casually. “Even Randall had to say so, and you know he doesn’t like me. So if he said, then it must have been awesome.”
I smiled. “I’m sure it was.”
As we waited for the vendor to fill our cones, my son cleared his throat.
“Who were you talking to on the phone?”
“Granny,” I said.
“Oh.” He grinned. “Is she coming to visit?”
“No.”
“Aw.” He made a face. “I was going to put pebbles in her shoes again.”
I bit back a grin. Playing pranks on my mom was one of my son’s favorite pastimes. “Well, maybe don’t do that again,” I cautioned. “I don’t want granny to have a heart attack.”
He chuckled. “Poor granny. I never saw anybody have a heart attack.”
“Don’t start,” I warned. Even though the situation was serious, I couldn’t help laughing.
We shared a smile and walked down the road with our ice creams. As we reached the car, my son gave me a sidelong look.
“Are we really going to have to move again?” he asked.
I opened the car and we both slid inside. “I’m not sure yet sweetheart. I hope not, but we’ll just have to see.”
He nodded his head sagely and it made me sad and angry. A boy his age shouldn’t know such horror.
“That man in the parking lot this morning seemed nice,” he said, taking me by surprise.
“Oh. Yes he did, didn’t he?” I answered, not quite sure what else to say. I couldn’t really tell my seven-year-old that I was confused about the man’s behavior. I couldn’t tell him that Reid had been a colossal asshole the two times I’d seen him before today and that even so, I couldn’t help but imagine what it would be like to be with him.
I certainly couldn’t tell him that when Reid had approached us in the parking lot and asked if we needed help, that it had been the safest I’d felt in years.
It didn’t make sense, and yet there it was.
13
Reid
I was working on my computer when Brendan arrived. Or, to be more precise, I was swearing at my computer, trying to download my tax forms. They were due soon, me already having filed one extension when I’d been deployed, and I was stressing about that as much as about everything else. I had my savings – six months’ worth of living expenses, more or less. I wasn’t sure what I was going to do if I hadn’t found a job when that was spent.
“Damn thing,” I swore.
The doorbell rang.
“Damn you too,” I cursed under my breath, going to the front door of my apartment and peering cautiously through the fish-eye lens. It was an old habit; after your body has gotten used to running on enough adrenaline to keep you alive in a war zone, it’s hard not to be alert to danger.
I saw the dark curly hair and earnest square-jawed face of my friend.
“Come on in,” I said, rolling my sore shoulders and opening the door. “I’m doing my taxes.”
He grinned. “I’m an accountant. I know how bad that is. Should I run away now?”
“Don’t you dare. Now that you’re here, I might ask you to fill out the forms.”
“You can’t afford me, bro,” Brendan joked.
He came in and sat down on my couch, groaning as he took the weight off his legs. He stretched them under the coffee table and looked up at me as I sat down.
“ Can I get you anything?” I asked, standing up again as I remembered my manners. “Coffee? Something else?” I was still unused to the whole social scene. I needed to relearn it all over again.
He nodded. “Thanks. Coffee would be amazing. I’m still half asleep.”
I laughed. “It’s two P.M.”
“Yeah well, the guys and I closed the bar down last night. I’m getting too old for that shit man.”
We drank our coffees in the kitchen. I winced as I tasted the bitterness, and recalled the café earlier.
“Brendan?”
“Yeah?” He tossed back the last of his coffee, grimaced and set the cup on the sideboard.
“You know you mentioned something about that girl…” I squirmed, feeling too embarrassed to ask more.
“Oh! Hayley.” He raised a brow. “Hell, Reid.”
“What?” I felt irritable. He was grinning at me and I felt put on the spot.
“You’re interested,” he said grinning. “Not that I blame you. I would be, too. Ask her out!”
“So tell her she caught you on a bad day. Show her the true sparkling personality you’re hiding under all those muscles,” he teased.
I couldn’t help but laugh. Even before I’d gone to war, I doubt that anyone would have called my personality ‘sparkling.’ “Yeah, maybe.”
“Friend, life is too short for maybe.”
I felt something in me go cold. “Yeah,” I said. “Tell somebody who hasn’t seen young men die.”
I saw Brendan’s face fall. He knew he’d gone too far. I felt sorry for him, having to put up with my bullshit. But at the same time, I couldn’t overlook his comment. It was trite.
“Sorry,” he muttered. “I did forget. I’m really sorry, Reid. Shit.”
“Yeah,” I said. “Shit.”
We both stood there in the silence of the kitchen. I wanted to stay mad at him, to tell him to get out, what the hell did he think he was doing here, judging me? But at the same time, I felt like I knew where that road led, all too well – to me being left here alone and friendless, bereft of the one person who could stand beside me in the dark moments. I frowned.
“Sorry, man,” I said. “I’m just a mess.”
“Any time you want to talk about it…” Brendan began cautiously.
“I’ve already told you all I can,” I said.
“Yeah. But you could tell somebody else. I’m an accountant, man. I don’t know shit that’d help.”
“You’re a friend,” I said. “I don’t need anything else.”
He just gave me a skeptical look and I gazed out of the window.
“I could do with your knowledge,” I said after a while. “You are an accountant. Any idea what I should do. I’ve got six months’ worth of savings. That’s it.”
“Well, what do you want for starters?” he asked. “I want a job,” I said. “I really do. I need to start earning again, to do something. This inaction is going to drive me insane.”
He nodded slowly. “I get it,” he said. “What kind of job?”
I frowned. Now that he mentioned it, I realized I’d never thought about it before. I had stopped making plans about my future when dad died. Baseball – my only real plan – had become inaccessible after that, as had college. So I’d kind of shelved my whole existence at age seventeen.
“You know, I never considered one.” After I joined the Army, I had thought that was it. My life was planned. Not much point in making long-term plans when you might die, was there? I foresaw a career with the military and, if I survived, a retirement.
“What did you want when we were kids?” he asked, surprising me.
“Baseball,” I said automatically. “You know that.”
“Yeah,” he said. He waited a bit. “And what else?”
“I don’t know,” I said, frustrated. “I guess college. I thought about doing sports medicine. Helping people with injuries to rehab. That kind of thing.”
It came to me as a revelation. I’d forgotten that dream. My inner seventeen-year-old seemed to be prompting me, reminding me of a conversation I’d had with Dad.
“I want to help people. Make a difference in people’s lives.”
My dad had just looked at me patiently. “Son, it’s not easy,” he’d said.
I sighed. Dad worked for the local government – he had put his life into trying to find ways to make things better. “I know,” I said. “But it must be possible, right?”
He just smiled, that weary, tired smile I knew so well. “You’re young, son.”
That was all he’d said. Something inside me had shrunk in that moment. I’d never talked about my burning desire to help people again.
Now, my throat tightened. “It’s dumb, isn’t it?” I said.
“Why?” Brendan looked mystified. “Sounds like a plan to me.”
“Huh.” I shook my head. “No, it doesn’t. I’m not a healer. I’m a killer.”
I turned away, looking into the sitting room. I could feel Brendan behind me, almost sense his worried stare drilling into my back. I felt my fist clench and I tried valiantly to resist the urge to punch the kitchen wall. I wanted to break something; to scream.
“You need to talk to someone,” Brendan said again.
I whirled round, feeling the adrenalin pumping. “Brendan, just get out.” I hissed. “Please. Before I do something I can’t take back.”
I saw Brendan’s eyes widen, and then narrow. He looked scared, and then he looked calm.
“Fine,” he said. He went through to the front door. When I followed him in, he was shrugging into his jacket.
“I’m sorry,” I murmured.
He looked up at me. “It’s okay,” he said gently. “I get it. I wish I could help. But you do need to talk to someone. And…” He frowned, getting ready to leave.
“And what?”
His honest brown gaze held mine. “And, just ask her out, already?”
I was still staring in amazement as the door clicked gently shut, leaving silence behind him.
14
Reid
I filled out my tax forms, I cleaned the apartment, I went grocery shopping and I still couldn’t clear out Brendan’s words from my mind.
Just ask her out. Life is too short.
I checked my tires, went jogging, cooked dinner for that day and the next, and the words still went around and around my head.
“Damn it, Brendan,” I swore. Everywhere I looked, I saw Hayley’s face. Her inviting smile, those green eyes that glinted with danger and humor and warmth. I ached for her with every part of my body. All the workouts in the world were not going to make me forget her.
I needed to see her.
I had to go into town to my bank, and on the way there I passed the coffee shop where she worked. I looked in through the door, but I couldn’t see her. I shrugged.
It must have been her day off.
I was moody until dinnertime.
When I was in bed, I felt my hand drift to my cock again. I gripped it, trying not to think about Hayley as I touched myself. It was impossible, though. I closed my eyes, imagining her touching me, imagining her undressed. Her body would be curvy and firm, I imagined, her nipples big and pink-tipped.
I told myself to go to sleep, but I couldn’t.
I couldn’t think of anything but her.
I went to the job center on Monday. They had a few desultory posters up, one of which was about volunteering for the UN. I read it. It made me feel more depressed. I had just come from a war zone. Why would I want to go back?
I left, feeling demotivated and annoyed. I should really get a grip on myself, decide what I wanted for my future.
I just had no clue. My life had been cut off at seventeen when Dad died. In between me and seventeen-year-old-Reid was a whole lot of blood and pain. How could I rejoin the thread, catch up with the decade or more of unfinished business?
I went jogging again.
On Wednesday, still plagued with thoughts of Hayley, I went to the local grocery store. It was five P.M. and I had just realized I was all out of anything edible. I was walking up the aisle of canned goods when I heard a voice and I tensed.
“Josh, I can’t reach. Can you help me?”
I tensed. My whole body started tingling and throbbing. It was her. I could see her on my right. She was reaching up for a tin of mushrooms; just out of reach.
“Lift me up, Mommy,” her little boy offered. “I’ll get it.”
I saw her bend, about to lift the little guy up. He was heavy, I reckoned – too heavy for her. It was more than I could stand to see them struggling together.
Life’s too short.
Grinding my jaw in annoyance at the advisory voice of Brendan in my head, I stepped forward. “Too high?” I asked, pointing up at the tins.
“Oh!” she stared at me,
startled. I saw a brief inquiry pass across her face – clearly, she was wondering why I was being friendly. Then she shrugged. “Yeah, it is.”
“Here,” I said, reaching up for the tin. “This one?”
“Yeah,” she nodded. “Thanks.”
She took the tin from me and my fingers touched hers. I felt a blast of electricity rocket through my body like a thunderbolt. I wanted her so badly in that moment that I bit my lip.
“No worries,” I said.
“Thanks,” she said again. She was looking down into her shopping cart, avoiding my gaze. Then she looked up again and our eyes held, wordlessly.
She wet her lips. The innocent gesture set fire to my loins, making me clench my jaw in an effort to control it. With her big green eyes staring up, her moist lips, red and so inviting, I had to ball my fists at my sides to resist the urge to lift her off my feet and press her soft, sweet body into me.
“Hey, mister.”
We both swung round, staring at Joshua, who’d greeted me.
“Hi,” I said. I stooped closer to the boy’s height and held out a hand. “I’m Reid.”
He raised a brow. “Joshua Jones,” he said. “I’m pleased to meet you.”
He stuck his small hand into mine and I felt my heart twist at the trusting expression in his eyes. Feeling my throat choke up unexpectedly, I shook his hand.
“Good to meet you, too,” I choked.
“We’re getting dinner ready,” Joshua said candidly. “Mom’s making spaghetti.”
“Oh?” I raised a brow. “Great. That’s my favorite.”
“Mom makes the best spaghetti in the whole wide world,” Joshua informed me seriously. “You gotta try it. Mom?”
I saw Hayley go pale. She looked at her son, shock warring with neutrality. “Yes?”
“Mom? Can he come for dinner? Spaghetti’s his favorite – you heard.”
Hayley looked at me and wet her lips again.
I was about to excuse myself, say that I had other plans. She looked in shock, and I didn’t want to put her on the spot, but to my surprise, she nodded.
“Sure,” she said. “Why not? Reid?”