by Brooke May
Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Epilogue
Note from the Author
Acknowledgements
About the Author
Books by Brooke
Coming soon:
Honoring Those Who Serve
Love, Mercy
Copyright © 2019, Brooke May
Printed in The United States of America.
ISBN 9781698813301
First Edition
Edited by Editing4Indies
Cover Art by Dark Water Covers
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
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To the Men and Women of our Armed Forces; past, present, and future.
Prologue
It wasn’t instantaneous.
It wasn’t a moment that had my heart stopping, my breath freezing in my lungs, my soul searing to his when our gazes locked, and it most certainly wasn’t love at first sight.
The day I met Daxon Logan, I was about to knock a fifth grader out for picking on me and my friend, Angelica. My fist almost went into his cute face instead, but he was bigger and was able to stop me from even fully extending my arm toward the older boy.
I was a fourth grader, a year younger and far smaller than either of them. It didn’t stop me from putting Daxon in his place, though. I laid into him, telling him I was perfectly capable of handling my own battles and that I didn’t need a boy to step in.
Little did my younger self know, the boy before me would play a larger part in my life.
Our friendship wasn’t something instant or constant after that point. Daxon had his own friends and life to lead while the same could be said for me. Our parents had become friends. Our fathers served in Vietnam together and were reunited after Daxon’s family moved to Centennial. Their friendship grew strong, and our mothers became close. That meant Daxon was around a lot after our initial meeting.
Our friendship was finite. We remained strictly friends until everything began to change for me during the summer after my sophomore year of high school. I no longer saw Daxon as a boy with a hero complex who always wanted to step in and rescue someone—mainly me. He was no longer the boy who was the only one willing to take me serious on the playground when I wanted to play soldiers rather than hang out on the monkey bars and pretend I was a gymnast. He was the only boy who thought my dream of becoming a soldier like my dad was great.
I had spent the entire summer watching him through the dark lenses of my shades. I grew tongue-tied and sweaty, and my pulse was irate whenever he was close to me. I learned my body’s reaction to him was something deeper than I could truly understand, and I didn’t particularly care for it at first. I was the tough girl, the one who never shied away from conflict and who was more comfortable being around boys.
My observations lasted only for those three months before I had finally mustered up enough of my ever-present courage to ask him out at the beginning of my junior year.
He was starting his senior year, and he said yes.
We went through thick and thin that year. Girls trying to steal him was our main issue. I was always seen as the little sister type or one of the guys, so there was never a worry about a guy hitting on me. At least in my mind. It also helped that most guys were terrified of me, but Daxon was still very diligent about who was around me.
When he told me he was going to join the Army and follow in our fathers’ footsteps I was thrilled for him. It was a dream that both of us shared, and I planned on joining him a year later.
I couldn’t wait for the opportunity to serve my country alongside the man I loved.
We were kids filled with dreams, and sometimes, those dreams just don’t come true.
Daxon was there the day I went to the recruiter. To say excitement pulsated around us was an understatement. We talked about the world that would be opened up to us as we drove there. He held my hand as we walked into the building and cradled me to his gradually growing chest as we left. He soaked up my tears after I was told the twist in my spine would never allow me to join any branch of the military. Even if I were to have surgery to correct it, the possibility of joining was still slim.
And like the few other times, I was left in tears–which was rare–Daxon did what he always did best and replaced my sorrow with joy. He took me on a hike, and even with the brisk air beating around us, I didn’t feel the cold. I was led to an overlook we had run to whenever we had the opportunity to get to in the mountains over our home. The wind was strong, the scent of fall filled our lungs, and the view was spectacular as he sank to one knee and asked me to be his forever.
I have never regretted saying yes.
I didn’t envy Daxon for living his dream while I was left behind. Instead, I focused on being the best supportive wife I could be to him. With each tour that took him away, I knew we were okay. I was left to plan our wedding for the following year while he was in Iraq for the first time. Care packages were sent as often as I could put them together for him and I was the first person to greet him, when he stepped off the plane.
We wrote our own vows. Mine were written on a tear-spotted paper while his were on a worn sheet he kept close to him throughout his tour.
I loved the man I married, and I love his duty to his country. I was honored to call him my husband as well as my hero and learned to admire his hero complex that he never quite got rid of. I knew that no matter where he was in the world or what he was doing, I was always one of the first thoughts he had when he woke up and the last when he was able to get a decent night’s sleep.
This isn’t your typical romance story.
Chapter One
Light pressure glides against my legs and then vanishes, only to appear a little higher up on my thigh.
“Mmm, that feels so good.” My body wants to stretch, but I won’t. Not with the delectable weight of my husband on top of me and his heat warming my uncovered body.
�
��Not as nice as you feel.” His lips dance across my naked flesh as puffs of air send sensations throughout my body. “Good morning, babe.”
“Good morning.” My eyes flutter open; the benefit of my lack of make up the day before makes the move easier than if I had yesterday’s mascara crusting around my lids. Instead of reaching above my head to pop my arched back, my fingers find their way into the short hair on the top of Daxon’s head. He hasn’t had anything longer than the required military cut since high school. I love it this way. It means I get to see more of his face and handsome build as I look down at his massive body.
Tightly packed muscles from rigorous workouts and skin pulled taut over those fierce cuts cage my legs under him as he slowly creeps his naked perfection up my lounging body.
“You. Are. So. Beautiful. Mercy.” He speaks between kisses, and my stomach tightens as it comes to life with flutters. No matter how many times I’m close to this soldier and hear the words in his deep timbre, I feel like the giddy schoolgirl I was when I first asked him out.
“I love how you wake me up.” We don’t have to have sex to be intimate. It’s like breathing between him and me; an ease for us to have this deep and satisfying connection. Not that the sex isn’t mind-blowing each time, but I love just being near him.
“And I love how responsive you are to me.” Finally, his strong jaw is level with my rounder one. Leaning forward, he envelops mt naked body with his warmth as his lips press against mine. Tender and nearly to the point of tears, he kisses me. It shows how much love he has for me.
I know he dotes on me as much as possible because our little bubble is about to burst. Our time is drawing to an end … for now. Duty is calling him away once more, and I long to keep the clock hands from moving even half of a second just so I can hold onto this time with him a little while longer.
All too soon, our kiss is broken, but he pauses before he moves away. I know he senses what I have passed from my lips to his. The darkness in his already dark gray eyes reflects the sadness slowly consuming me.
“I don’t want you to go.” I feel so selfish stating this. I know better than anyone what his career entails.
He gets off the bed, and my gaze fixates on the firm globes of his toned ass.
Yes, perfection.
And he’s all mine. Every time I see him, clothed or naked, I feel the need to pinch myself to make sure this isn’t just a teenage dream. And thankfully, it isn’t. Daxon Ray Logan is all mine.
“Mercy, you know I can’t back out.” There is no note of irritation in his voice.
“I know.” Rolling onto my stomach, I don’t bother to cover my nudity. We are in the privacy of our little home I had to find by myself and then email to him to make sure it was what we both wanted. His duty will always take him away until he is ready to retire and step away from all of it. We are still in our twenties, so he is far from retiring from what he loves doing. And I understand that the Army will always be a mistress in our relationship.
But I adore his honor.
At the threshold of the en suite bathroom, Daxon turns to me. Every solid muscle in his tall body is on display as he braces himself against the doorframe. His arms cross, and my eyes lock onto the strong yet delicate tattoo of my name on his forearm and the Army symbol on the other.
“Our country needs me, babe.”
“I understand.” My shoulders fall. I am a strong woman, but sometimes it is a little too much to be strong when the one person I love more than my own life isn’t by my side every night.
For his build, he is incredibly quiet as he quickly closes the distance between us. I’m lifted with ease off the bed and cradled into his arms. His nose pressed against mine. I don’t mind the morning breath as he speaks. The heat of his wide eyes fills me with honesty as his grip around me reinforces the strength of his words.
“I promise you, Mercy Jessica Logan, that no matter what situation I find myself in, I will always find my way back to you. I love you so much.”
“And I love you.”
Daxon,
I hope this email finds you safely. I wasn’t sure what way to write to you. Normally, emails have worked just fine for us, but seeing as everything has changed, I decided to give this a try before resorting to putting you through the torture of attempting to read my handwriting.
I miss you. As if you didn’t already know that, but it’s as true as the first time I ever said it. I’m doing okay. Work is slowly picking up. We aren’t in a popular energy area in the state, as you know, but I have enough to keep me busy.
I went to our spot last week to celebrate our anniversary early. It wasn’t the same without you by my side but I knew that wherever you were, you were thinking of me at the same time as I was looking up at the blue sky and seeing your handsome face.
Our dads have decided to take up black powder shooting. They were watching something the other day and decided they needed it as a hobby. Our mothers are thrilled. Can you sense my sarcasm? I know you can. You know me too well. Anyway, they are working on building their own guns and then are going to attempt to put a club together. This should be interesting.
I guess that’s all I have for now. I hope you are safe and that this reaches you soon. I can’t wait to hear from you.
Love,
Mercy
Mercy,
As much as I would love to see your fabulous handwriting, see I can do sarcasm too, emails are the best bet to reach me for the time being. Everything is going as well as can be expected and that’s all I am at liberty to say, even to you. For that, I’m sorry.
I miss you, too. I have this picture of you in my mind I wish I had a hard copy of. But then again, it’s a full-frontal nude, and I don’t really want the guys to see you in a state only allowed for my eyes. Maybe if I can get you an address for a care package, you can send me a picture of you in something sexy like one of my shirts or something?
I’m glad work is keeping you busy and I’m sorry I couldn’t be there for our anniversary, but as you said, I was thinking of you. The sand has nothing on the mountains, but my imagination works well enough to fill in that void.
As for our dads, good for them! Those two need something to do on the weekends. Keep me posted on the progress they make with their guns. I hope they don’t mess up and end up blowing themselves up like they almost did with their homemade cannon.
I don’t have much more time on the computer. I can’t wait to hear more from you, babe.
I love you,
Daxon
Chapter Two
Being a military wife isn’t something to take lightly.
The hours, days, and months of loneliness can be debilitating at times. Being unsure of your future with your husband can leave you feeling on edge and lead to anxiety issues every time you turn on the news and see something has happened where your man is supposed to be. It’s even worse when you don’t know where he is because he isn’t allowed to share that information with you.
But each time he walks through those doors or steps off a plane, you cherish and embrace the rare moments he is on loan to you from the government. You fill those times with as much love and great memories as you can before you lose him again, and you’re okay with that. Yet you kid yourself that he is completely yours until he is gone once more.
I’ve been through this process three times after we got married.
I have had plenty of me time to complete my degree in environmental biology and get a great job at an energy consulting firm for this part of Montana. To fill the giant Daxon-sized void in my life, volunteered at the VFW. I spent time there after working all day, I didn’t feel as lonely by the time I got home.
I did end up welcoming another male into our home to keep me company when I hit an all-time low during Daxon’s second tour. It was longer, and I felt isolated.
No, I’m not one of those women who run around on her man when he is away fighting for our country. I’m talking about a little guy who has a permanent black eye
and is mostly white with tan and black spots on his back and legs.
Trigger was a gift to myself when the loneliness became too much. I had gone from a constant of Daxon in my life to barely speaking to him. Sure, I had our family but they couldn’t be with me all the time at home. Trigger is an adorable Australian sheep dog I found at the local shelter after I started volunteering there on the weekends.
He’s been my constant, and Daxon absolutely loves him.
Yet sometimes even his companionship isn’t enough to fight off the loneliness, which leads me to where I am tonight.
After work, I was on my way home when my friend Angie called me and suggested we head to the bar for a couple of drinks. It had been a while since I’ve been out, so I agreed to come out for a drink and something to eat. It beat the alternative of going home to make a meal for one and then watch mindless episodes of a random show until it was time for bed.
I thought it would be fun to catch up with her and her friend Patience, who is slowly becoming one of mine and it was until Angie’s single status won out over our friendship and Patience’s rounded belly caused her to call it an early night. And now I’m left to deal with the pain in the ass currently sitting next to me.
My wedding ring, though simple, has always been on full display since the moment Daxon slipped it onto my finger. The symbol of our love is something I can’t live without when he isn’t with me. Yet men still think they are welcome to hit on me.
No matter how many times I tell them off and then get mean about how they have absolutely nothing enticing for me, they don’t get it.
“Come on, love, just one dance.” His words are close to being slurred.
My nose wrinkles up as I look out at the bar behind us. The dance floor is mostly empty on this weeknight. Instead, sports are playing on the TVs that the owner is slowly installing around the building. I’m not in the mood for dancing. Not that I ever am. I’m not the dancing type.