Spun Out

by Lorelei James

  “Did that help?”

  She glanced up at him. “No. Then I began sleeping through my alarm clock. Showing up late or missing duty days entirely. Sometimes when I reported for duty, I didn’t recognize my coworkers or know how to do my job. That was not typical behavior for me. My CO had to write me up, which forced a medical intervention of sorts, because given my erratic behavior, I think she believed I had a substance abuse problem. I spent a week in the hospital, convinced I had cancer or some weird disease I’d picked up overseas that they couldn’t find a cure for. But they finally narrowed it down to one condition that’s difficult to diagnose anyway. Lupus.”

  “Lupus,” Streeter repeated. “What is that?”

  “It’s an autoimmune deficiency. It’s prevalent among women of color, which is why it took so long to narrow down because I have no idea who my father was. Given my dark hair and skin tone, he could’ve been Native American or Mexican. Anyway, finally having a medical diagnosis should’ve been a relief, but that’s when all the issues of living with this disease manifested.” Bailey drained her coffee.

  Without a word, Streeter got up and refilled both of their cups and settled back in. “I’ll admit I don’t know anything about lupus.” The fierce look in his eyes indicated he’d change that ASAP, and Bailey wasn’t sure if fear or relief was her stronger reaction.

  “I can give you the basics. It’s incurable, for one thing. It’s not contagious. It can affect your organs, like shutting down your kidneys. Not everyone responds to the medications the same way, so it takes time to get that sorted out. But the medication can stop working entirely for no apparent reason. Then you have to start all over again trying to figure out what will work. So I’ll be going along with my life, having lupus mostly under control and then . . . bam! The disease reminds me who’s really in charge of my body and I have a flare-up.”

  “What’s a flare-up like?”

  “It depends. Rashes, blisters, fever, aching joints, headaches, loss of cognitive skills, extreme exhaustion for the major flare-ups. Sometimes it’s minor, a twinge here and there. Or I fall asleep in agony and wake up fine. This time I woke up in the middle of the night with fever sweats, excruciating joint pain and the inability to even get out of bed.”

  “When did that happen?”

  “Saturday.”

  “How often do you have them?”

  “It depends.”

  “Okay. How many have you had since you’ve been in Wyoming?”

  “Three. The first weekend after I got here. I checked into a hotel in Casper when I sensed one coming on.”

  “Who knew about that?”

  “No one.”

  “And the second one?”

  “Two weekends ago. When I said I’d be at the Turner Ranch.”

  “Where were you?”

  “A motel in Rawlins.”

  “Jesus, Bailey. Why didn’t you—”

  She held up her hand. “I didn’t tell you because there’s nothing that you can do. I have to ride it out.”

  Streeter leveled that hard glare on her. “I get you shutting yourself away and tryin’ to survive the flare-ups.”

  “But?”

  “But why didn’t you tell me you have lupus? And before you get pissy, baby, I told you the very ugly truth of my past and what I’ve dealt with. Did you honestly believe I couldn’t handle you havin’ a medical condition?”

  “No, I knew you could handle it. That’s why I didn’t tell you. We agreed to no strings.”

  “Which has been a big goddamned lie for both of us since that first night. Yes, we fuck each other stupid at every opportunity, but that’s not all we do. That sure as hell isn’t all we are to each other, Bailey.” He paused. “Is it?”

  Lie. Lie and let him move on before he digs any deeper.

  But . . . she couldn’t. “No.”

  He visibly relaxed. “We’ll circle back to us, but I wanna know how this diagnosis affected your military career.”

  “Basically, they’re kicking me out. Because of the unpredictability of the disease, I’ve become nondeployable. The new government regulations are weeding out military personnel who are nondeployable. So I failed my last FFD.”

  “What’s FFD?”

  “Fit For Duty. The MEB—Medical Evaluation Board—has my case and will make a ruling any day on my military pay disability rating. I have a dozen years of military service, so my severance package—”

  “Hold up. There’s no way you can stay on active duty?”

  “No. During bad flare-ups I can’t keep up with the physical requirements. My judgment is off too, which isn’t as big a deal since I’m in supply and requisitions rather than operations. But I don’t need my CO babysitting me.” Again went unsaid. “She has enough shit on her plate without worrying that I can’t do my job, which affects how our unit functions as a whole. We’re only as strong as our weakest link and when I know that’s me, it’s time to let someone else step up.

  “It sucks because I’d planned on being career military. I don’t know what else I’m qualified for—that’s part of the reason I’m in Wyoming. I had a ton of leave saved up and I knew the VA placement offices here would be less booked than the ones at my home base.”

  “So that’s the reason for your vague answer about whether you’re leavin’ the military.”

  “Technically I’ve already left. I completed the outprocessing paperwork; I’m just waiting on confirmation of my disability rates and burning my leave.”

  Streeter drained his coffee and set the cup aside. “Given your reaction to me talkin’ to Harper when I thought you were sick, I’m guessing she doesn’t know you have lupus.”

  Bailey shook her head.

  “Without bein’ a dick . . . Jesus. You’ve had it for two and a half years. Doesn’t she have a right to know?”

  “I’d planned to talk to Harper about it, but after getting here and seeing her stressing about everything, I refuse to give her another thing to worry about.”

  “It’s her right to worry about you. To be there for you. How do you think she’s gonna feel when she finds out you’ve had this disease and didn’t tell her—but you told Liberty.”

  “Harper has always been way judgier about me than Liberty has,” she retorted. “Harper didn’t even know that I had babysitting jobs all through high school. She thought I was lazy and I’d be living off her because that’s what Mom told her, and she believed it.”

  “What has changed?”

  She blinked at him. “Excuse me?”

  “You’re back here and instead of tellin’ her that you’re here to deal with your career and health issues, you’ve let her believe all is just fine and fucking dandy with you. You’re here to help her. Except, you ain’t livin’ at the Turner Ranch because then she’d know when you were havin’ a flare-up, wouldn’t she?”

  Her face turned crimson.

  “You’re keepin’ things from her like you’ve always done.” He stood and paced. “I wish Danica would’ve been honest with me one goddamned time about what she was goin’ through. One. Time. Oh, I’m certain she didn’t want to worry me either. So I went on thinkin’ everything was fine. But it wasn’t even close to fine.”

  “Not the same thing at all.”

  His gaze bored into her. “You’re fine with lyin’ to your sister about why you missed work for three days?”

  “Again, Streeter, what could Harper have done if she knew it was a lupus flare-up?”

  “Because she can’t fix you, she doesn’t get to be there for you in any capacity?”

  Bailey told herself he had a right to his anger. “I don’t want her pity.”

  “Before I met you, pity and love were so hopelessly intertwined I never thought I could separate them. But you showed me I was wrong.”

  How was she supposed to respond to t
hat?

  Especially when her head pounded and her body felt battered?

  She didn’t want to fight with him. So she made the only concession she could. “I’ll talk to Harper about it. Not when I’m like this.”

  “What better time for her to see firsthand how this disease takes a toll on you than when you’re incapacitated?” he demanded.

  “I’ll tell her, but on my time frame—no one else’s. Don’t push me on this.”

  Whatever he started to say ended when he snapped his mouth shut. Then he spun on his heel and headed for the door.

  Bailey closed her eyes. “Thanks for checking on me. I know you’ve got to get to work, so don’t feel obligated to stay.”

  “Obligated.” He released a mean chuckle. “I’ve been against spanking Olivia when she gets smart with me, but woman, after that comment, I’m obligated to tell you when you’re feelin’ better I’m gonna paddle your smart ass but good.”

  Startled, her eyes flew open.

  Streeter was taking off his boots, using the bootjack she’d placed for him by the door.

  He wasn’t leaving?

  When he said, “Nope,” she realized she’d asked that out loud.

  Then he sauntered toward her as he started to unthread his leather belt from his jeans.

  “Whoa, wait a minute, cowboy. When you said spanking, I didn’t think you meant with your belt.”

  “I believe I said we’d play a little slap-and-tickle when you’re feelin’ better, which obviously ain’t right now.”

  “Oh.”

  “I’m takin’ my belt off so the buckle doesn’t dig into you when I’m holdin’ you. We snuggling up out here or in your bed? You choose.”

  “Bed.”

  He said, “Hold on,” and the next moment she was airborne.

  It felt too good to be close to him to protest his manhandling ways.

  After he deposited her on the bed, Streeter stripped down to his boxers and T-shirt before he crawled in next to her.

  Despite the fiery feeling of her skin, she snuggled into him. Before she spiraled into that dark hole of exhaustion, she filled her lungs with his clean, comforting scent.

  Bailey woke up when her comfy pillow moved.

  Soft lips landed on her forehead. “I hate to leave but I gotta get Olivia pretty soon.”

  She hated losing all track of time during such deep sleep. “You’ve been in bed with me all day?”

  “I got up to eat and check my phone. But you weren’t as restless when I laid next to you, so I crawled back in as soon as I could.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Are you gonna punch me if I ask how you’re feelin’?”

  “No punching today. I’m feeling less achy.”

  “That’s good?”

  “I hope so. I’ll know more after I get up and move around some.”

  “You too achy for a kiss?” he murmured into her hair.

  “Never.” Bailey tilted her head back to rest on his biceps.

  “God. I’ve missed you the past three days.” He brushed his lips across hers, back and forth, just a sweet glide. A gentle tease. “Kickin’ myself that I didn’t check on you sooner.” His tongue swept in to taste the inside of her bottom lip. “I’m imagining all the ways to punish you for goin’ radio silent on me.” He sank his teeth into her lower lip and tugged. “Thanks to some of those erotic images I fantasized about, I’ve spent most of the day tellin’ my dick to stand down.”

  “Poor neglected dick.” She licked the seam of his lips, loving that he parted them for her on a deep groan.

  The kiss was slow. Thorough. Sweet and gentle and tender. Though they often kissed in this unhurried manner, Bailey couldn’t help but wonder if Streeter knowing the truth of her condition would change how he kissed her.

  Then Streeter’s mouth wandered down her neck and his hand followed the contour of her body, over her hips, stopping between her legs.

  “Need a taste of you, baby. Wanna make you ache in a whole new way.” He blew in her ear. “But if you’re not up for it—”

  Her fingers circled his wrist when he tried to pull his hand away and she pressed his palm over her mound.

  He chuckled against her throat. “Guess that means you are up for it. Take them panties off.”

  She might’ve given her ass sheet burns, she whipped her panties onto the floor so fast.

  Streeter clutched the backs of her thighs and spread her wide open. “Think you missed me too. This sweet cunt is weeping for me.” He licked her from her opening to her clit. “Three days without. No tease, I just fucking need this.”

  And he dove in, eating her with gusto. Licking, sucking, groaning against her soft wet flesh, making her entire body tingle and shake. And ache in the best possible way.

  Parting her folds and lapping up her musky essence, rubbing his whole face against her intimate flesh, marking himself with her scent.

  His obsession with making her come with his mouth was way sexier, way hotter than anything she’d ever experienced. He knew when she reached that tipping point and he shoved her over the edge, keeping her pinned so she didn’t accidentally squirm away, latching his mouth to her sex as he drank her pleasure down.

  After she was spent, he rested his face on the inside of her thigh. His free hand found that spot just below the crease of her leg, the erogenous zone he claimed as his.

  When she came back to herself, she slowly opened her eyes to find him staring at her. “Wow.”

  “I could do that at least a dozen more times today.”

  “Mmm. I’d love it but I think your dick might feel left out.”

  He smirked. “He was kind of a needy prick today when you were sleepin’ so I’m ignoring him.”

  “Harsh.”

  He planted his hands next to her head and kissed her. Lots of tongue, giving her a thorough taste of herself.

  “I gotta go,” he murmured against her lips.

  “I know.”

  “Feel better, baby.” One final smooch and he was on his feet, getting redressed. “Text me later so I know you’re okay.”

  “I will.”

  Once again Streeter paused in the doorway.

  She waited.

  “Will you trust me with it someday?”

  “Trust you with what?”

  “The real reason you hide that you have lupus.”

  She watched him watching her.

  “It’s not an uncommon disease,” he said softly, “and it’s not a self-inflicted condition, so I don’t understand why you treat it like an ugly secret. I’ve lived ugly secrets, and believe me, darlin’, this ain’t one of them.”

  Oh, sweet man, you don’t know the half of it.

  But rather than taking the chance and telling him the truth, she said, “And you know about lupus . . . how?”

  Grinning, he held up his phone. “I Googled it.”

  She threw a pillow at him.

  “You’re definitely feelin’ better.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Streeter’s thoughts meandered as he drove back to the Split Rock from Tobin’s ranch—or rather the “All Hale” ranch since he’d be living there soon enough.

  Holt had been on-site today, and they’d gone over a few things that hadn’t been addressed. All in all, he felt really good about the progress being made and the move-in date of mid-November.

  He’d brought Bailey out to the site last weekend before they went to Tobin and Jade’s for supper. Olivia had been more excited about the equipment on the site than the fact they’d be living there. He’d forced her to hold his hand after she’d raced off and tried to climb on the backhoe. His daughter hadn’t minded holding his hand, which was a big step for her.

  Bailey hadn’t said too much about the place except it would have a great view.
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  He didn’t know what he’d expected.

  Maybe he had a fantasy where the first time she saw the space, she admitted it finally felt as if she’d found her home. And after she kissed him and confessed her love for him, he spun her around in a circle as she laughed, and the sun reflected all around them and everything slowed into slow motion.

  Bunch of romantic crap. That wasn’t him. It definitely wasn’t Sergeant Masterson either. Bailey hadn’t even told him she loved him. He didn’t understand why she withheld those words. It was obvious in the way she acted around him she loved him. It was obvious in the way she treated his daughter she loved her too. Since the discussion about Bailey’s lupus two weeks ago, things had changed between them. He, Bailey and Olivia had become a unit. Sharing breakfast at Bailey’s every morning when Olivia skipped down to ask Bailey for her drums back. They spent evenings together, the three of them playing games or watching TV. Even splitting up into groups of two—Bailey and Olivia coloring at the kitchen table, or he and Bailey watching TV while Olivia played in her room with her kitten.

  Then there was the adult time after Olivia was in bed. When they lost their heads in the passion they created together. Bailey didn’t stay over past five a.m., and it frustrated him. Wouldn’t it be better for her to have a solid night’s sleep rather than getting up and stumbling to her trailer?

  But he didn’t bring it up because she’d make excuses.

  Like when she refused to talk about how she was feeling physically.

  Like when she told him to back off if he asked whether she’d brought up her lupus diagnosis with Harper yet.